#and i hate that i miss him so much because i stopped talking to him for a REASON

[half-oz-eddie]

Sorry I missed you (on purpose)

Buck knew Tommy's schedules and habits, and he knew exactly when Tommy wasn't home.

Tommy's schedule fluctuated from week to week, so how did Buck know this? Well, Buck started anti-stalking Tommy, which is...still stalking, but he was only doing it to avoid running into Tommy. It doesn't make sense. To you, to anybody, but it makes sense to Buck, and Buck's gonna Buck, right?

Tommy liked to keep the porch light on because he fed a neighborhood cat whenever he was home, and he wanted the cat to know it was safe to come on his porch and have a bite to eat. Tommy was just good like this.

It's so hard not to love him.

Monday. Porch light on. Tuesday. Porch light off. Wednesday. Porch light on, and the curtain was open. Buck's heart raced when he saw Tommy walk past the window. What was he doing? Was he alone? Buck didn't intend to stick around too long and find out, so he drove off.

Thursday. Porch light off. Perfect. Buck left a post-it note on Tommy's front door.

"Wanted to drop some things of yours, but you weren't home and I didn't want to leave them on the porch. Feel free to call or drop by anytime! -Buck"

There. Simple enough. Now Buck just had to get the hell out of there before Tommy returned.

Two days passed and Tommy hadn't called, texted or stopped by. Why?

Did the post it note blow away? Did the cat eat it? Maybe he should've reinforced the post-it with some tape or something.

Or maybe...Tommy didn't want to talk to him at all. Maybe he just hated him.

Buck carried that thought to bed.

The next day after Buck's shift, he returned home to find a post-it on his door.

"Sorry I missed you. I have some of your things as well. You can drop mine off and pick up yours this week. Or I can stop by. Your choice. -Tommy"

Buck read the note over and over again. He could hear Tommy's voice in his head with every syllable his eyes scanned on the note. It even had the lingering smell of Tommy's cologne.

Buck stuck it to his fridge.

He missed talking to him.

The next day after his shift, Buck drove past Tommy's house. Porch light on.

Buck kept driving.

The day after, Buck returned to Tommy's again. Porch light off. This was his moment.

"Sorry I missed you again. I just can't seem to remember your schedule. Stop by whenever you can."

He stuck the post-it to the door, but he was unsatisfied, so he pulled out a second post-it.

PS: hope you're taking care of that knee that was bothering you a few weeks ago. You never took that compression sleeve. Should I bring it? -Buck"

It was a little ridiculous, sure, but Buck was talking to Tommy again. Sort of, and it was great.

Buck stopped baking as often, and everyone at the firehouse thought he was making some sort of progress. He told them he was. He just didn't explain the sort of progress he was making.

When he returned home from his shift 3 days later, there were 3 post-its on his door and his eyes lit up with excitement.

"We've gotta stop (not) meeting like this. I can't seem to remember your schedule either. I'm sure we'll sort this out soon." Buck smiled as he grabbed the first post it, before reading the second.

"My knee's better, but I'd still like that compression sleeve. Do you think you could drop it off with my stuff? Or I'll pick it up." Buck smiled wider. He was glad to know Tommy's knee wasn't bothering him as much anymore, but he was happy to know he still wanted his help.

"Let me know what works for you. PS: Is that wrist still bothering you? I hope it's all healed up now. -Tommy"

Buck stuck the post-its to his fridge and smiled to himself. He was almost convinced they'd talked via post-its enough to talk via text, but he didn't feel like it was the right time yet.

He continued anti-stalking Tommy for days, waiting for the day his porch light wasn't on. It had been 4 days since the porch light was off.

Finally. He hoped Tommy wasn't too worried. Then again, he probably wasn't worried at all, Buck assumed.

"Sorry again. I just have a lot of things keeping me busy so I stop by whenever I get the chance. I'm going to try again until we get this right." Buck stuck the first note to the door.

"PS: my wrist is fine now, thanks for asking. I've been putting it to use a lot lately because I'm baking so much."

Buck stuck the second note to the door, but wanted to leave three post-its like Tommy did, just to seem equally as invested in this post-it tag.

"PPS: I almost tripped over the bowl by your front door. Are you still feeding that cat? -Buck"

Buck stuck the final note to the door feeling satisfied. He even laughed to himself when he realized he stuck them to the door in the shape of a heart with the first two on top, and the third beneath.

Tommy probably wouldn't even notice.

When a week passed and Buck hadn't seen a single post-it on his door, he was beginning to worry that Tommy grew tired of their game of tag.

The next day, there was one, single post-it on his door.

"I think maybe I should text you."

Buck's heart was beating out of his chest. Was Tommy going to text him finally?

When? What time? What day? Today? Please be today, Buck hoped.

Buck was back to checking his phone for the next few hours. He started baking again to pass the time so he'd stop obsessing over his phone.

When he heard his phone ding, he nearly jumped across the counter for it.

Buck and Tommy continued to occasionally text for a week. Occasionally became frequently, and frequently became constantly, until they were talking again about any and everything that crossed their minds.

When Tommy addressed them finally meeting in person to exchange their belongings, Buck dreaded the thought. He was convinced that exchanging their belongings would end their text exchanges, so he blew Tommy off several times with various excuses about why he was too busy to meet.

Tommy was willing to wait and continue to text Buck, until one day, the texting turned into a phone call.

"Are you avoiding me on purpose?" Tommy asked.

"I-uh-no-I-I'm not. I'm not avoiding you. Not...intentionally." Buck stammered.

Tommy laughed on the other end of the phone. "Evan." There was that teasing voice Buck so dearly missed.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I am. I wasn't ready to do this face-to-face, in case this was going to be the last time we ever saw each other. So first, I dragged it out with the post-its..."

"I knew I saw your car that night! I thought maybe I was imagining it. Maybe...I dunno, wishful thinking."

Buck listened to the momentary silence and the soft sigh on the other end of the phone.

"The notes were cute, though. I...liked them. I suppose I was avoiding you too. Just to keep this going for a little bit longer."

"Really?" Buck smiled. "Y-you were? I didn't think you even wanted to talk to me anymore—"

"Are you kidding? Of course I do. I just...I know we broke up so suddenly. I...thought maybe we wouldn't work out. I guess it all felt too real and I...ran. I've done nothing but act cowardly since that night."

"I don't think you're a coward, Tommy. I didn't mean to scare you off. If you don't think I'm ready, I can promise you that you're wrong. Since the moment you left, I haven't stopped thinking about you. The baking was just to keep me from reaching out to you so I could give you space."

"I hate space. I hate avoiding you. I miss you, Evan. So much."

"I miss you too."

There was another silence while they each gathered their thoughts.

"Do you uh...do you still want your stuff back?" Buck worriedly asked.

"The only thing I left at your apartment that I want back is you."

Buck smiled so wide, his cheeks were aching. "You mean it?"

"Of course. When are you free?"

"For you? Whenever your porch light is on." Buck answered, getting a lighthearted laugh out of Tommy.

"Well...they're on right now."

"Yeah? I'll be right there."

Leave me kudos <3

[requiemforthepoets]

broadway darling 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x sainz!reader

SUMMARY: you and lando never met each other in person despite him being best friends with your brother, but when carlos had dragged him to your opening night, he hated to admit it but he was charmed by you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n in the narrations, photo do not belong to me and all photos are taken from pinterest, inconsistencies of photos, use of y/n on the smau, not proofread, magui, profanities, mean comments, and typos

WORD COUNT: 696

FACE CLAIMS: taken from pinterest

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i missed writing for lando 😭 i made this one shot/smau to appease my broadway x f1 racer agenda in my mind, and since i’m a big fan of les miz and hamilton. though let me know if you want part 2 lol i hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it! this one’s for all the theatre girlies out there (i hope i did you justice 🥹)

It was an unspoken rule that opening nights were sacred in your family. The excitement, nerves, and anticipation of the curtain rising for the first time in Melbourne—it was all part of the magic you had fallen in love with since your broadway debut at sixteen. Tonight was no different, the backstage bustle surrounded you, but you remained calm, dressed in your costume for Fantine, the tragic heroine of Les Misérables.

The makeup team finished their final touches, ensuring every detail conveyed the pain and hope of the character. You took a deep breath, whispering a quiet prayer as the stage manager gave the fifteen-minute warning.

In the plush velvet seats of the packed theater, your family had taken their places. Carlos was flanked by your parents on one side and, to your surprise, his best friend, Lando Norris, by his side. You had heard of Lando countless times through Carlos’ stories, seen him in the occasional instagram post or race weekend interview, but never met him in person. Lando was not exactly the type you imagined sitting through a three-hour musical, but there he was, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, looking slightly out of place but undeniably intrigued.

“I still don’t understand why you brought me with you.” Lando murmured to Carlos as they flipped through the program.

“Because you need culture in your life,” Carlos teased, his voice low to avoid drawing attention. “Besides, it’s my sister. I’m always there to support her.”

Lando just nodded, unsure what to really expect. He had heard of you, of course, Carlos never stopped talking about his little sister’s accomplishments, but he had never seen you perform. Lando wasn’t even sure how someone who belted out ballads for a living would compare to the thrill of racing, but as the curtains rose and you stepped onto the stage, he felt something shift.

When you sang I Dreamed a Dream, the theatre fell silent, and Lando forgot to breathe. He didn’t know much about broadways and musicals, but even he could tell this was something special. There was a rawness in your voice, an honesty that made him feel like you were baring your soul to every person in the audience, him included.

“You good?” Carlos asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Lando blinked and sat up straighter. “She's…really good.”

“Told you,” Carlos smirked, “she’s a broadway darling for a reason.”

Lando did not respond, his eyes fixed on you as you poured your heart into the performance, and by the time the curtain fell and the audience erupted into applause, he was on his feet, clapping so hard his palms stung. Carlos laughed as he nudged him.

“I think you liked it more than me, mate.” Carlos chuckled.

“She’s, uh, really talented.” Lando flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Carlos raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Backstage, you were surrounded by castmates and well-wishers when Carlos arrived, with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“You killed it out there!” He said, pulling you into a bear hug. “Mamá and Papá are so proud, they couldn’t even stop crying.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, wiping a bit of makeup from your cheek. “It felt good tonight.” You admitted, though your eyes flicked curiously to the familiar figure a few steps behind Carlos.

Carlos caught your glance and stepped aside. “Oh, right, this is Lando. You know him, my best friend.”

“Hello.” You said warmly, extending a hand.

Lando stared at you for a second too long before quickly shaking your hand. “Hey, uh, you were amazing. Like, really amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at his slightly awkward demeanor. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it. I never pegged you for a theatre type.”

Carlos snorted. “Oh, he’s not. He didn’t even know who Fantine was before tonight.”

“Hey, I know now.” Lando muttered as he shot Carlos a look, which made you laugh.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Lando,” you said. “Thank you for coming.”

As you turned your attention back to Carlos to discuss dinner plans, Lando just stood there, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, feeling like he had just been hit by a train.

ynsainz

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, lesmizofficial, iamrebeccad, landonorris and 456,736 others

tagged: lesmizofficial

ynsainz do you hear the people sing? 🇫🇷❤️

opening night of les misérables in melbourne was nothing short of magical. i’m so grateful for the chance to bring fantine’s story to life again and share it with the people i love the most. a night that i’ll never forget! ❤️✨

view 78,837 comments below

carlossainz55 incredible, hermanita! Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it ❤️

ynsainz AAAAAHHH LOVE YOU 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad you.are.amazing! GIRL THOSE PIPES YOU HAVE!!

ynsainz rebeccaaa, thank you so much!! i’m glad that you were able to come 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world!!! 🥰

landonorris amazing show last night! first theatre experience and definitely won’t be the last 👏🏻🙌🏻

ynsainz thank you lando! glad that les miz was your first theatre experience. well, hoping to see you again soon! 😆

lesmizofficial opening night couldn’t have been more better, it was unforgettable! you’ve brought fantine to life in a way that will resonate for years to come. the team couldn’t be prouder of you! ❤️

ynsainz thank you, les misérables! 🥺❤️

username1 PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION

username2 carlos wasn’t lying when he said he’s sister a star 🥹 i came for the sainz connection and left absolutely blown away by your TALENT!!!!

username3 an icon, a legend, a queen!!!!!!

username4 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THAT I WATCHED YOU LIVE 😭😭😭😭

username4 I NEED TO SEE YOU ON LES MIZ TOUR I CANT LET THIS PASS BY 😭😭😭

username5 THE MEMES 😭😭😭

username6 THEATRE KIDS UNITE!!!

twitter posts

f1gossip

liked by username1, username2, username3, username4 and 20,837 others

tagged: ynsainz, carlossainz55, landonorris

f1gossip is there something more than just racing between lando norris and the sainz family?

spotted: lando norris attending the opening night of les miserables in melbourne with none other than carlos sainz and his family just days before the aussie grand prix weekend.

the mclaren driver, who’s usually more focused on the track than the theatre, seemed to be all flirty and smiles as he mingled with carlos’ little sister, ynsainz—the broadway darling herself! rumors have been swirling around ever since lando was seen front and center at the opening night, and now, it’s got us wondering…is there something between the two off-track?

while lando’s always kept his private life under the wraps, this cozy night with the sainz fam is raising some eyebrows. could les miserables be just the beginning? are we seeing a new f1 power couple in the making?

drop your thoughts below! ❤️

view all 18,636 comments below

username7 okay, but if lando is really into her, can we talk about what an upgrade this is from his usual dating rumors? she’s a literal goddess. broadway, west end, and disney??? ma’am.

username8 so lando’s in attendance at les miz in melbourne? okay, that’s cool, but is it bad that i care more about her perfomance than this so-called gossip? priorities, people!

username9 not at all!! everyone here in the comsec acting like they personally know lando or y/n lmao what a bunch of losers

username10 this is a bit of stretch, don’t you guys think? maybe he’s genuinely wanted to be there for support. he’s literally best friends with carlos and close with the sainz, is it now bad to support a best friend’s family member? not every guy and girl showing support or hanging out equates to dating.

username9 SPEAK YOUR TRUTH!!!

username1 finally, someone saying relevant here for once!!!

username11 can we please stop making everything a love story? maybe she’s just being nice and lando’s just being lando

username12 oh you are so sick for tagging the people involved in your nonsense gossip!!! leave them alone!!!!

username13 now why us, broadway fans, suddenly being dragged into an f1 drama? can we just stay away from this and focus on supporting her and appreciating her talent? we don’t need this kind of drama

username14 lol lando is just tagging along with carlos like they usually do! NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE A SHIP NOR A DATING RUMOR!

username15 she’s just probably using him for clout lmfao

username16 i don’t ship it, but if carlos approves, i guess it’s fine

username2 ????? weirdo

username17 she’s been killing it on broadway since she was young. why do people always have to reduce talented women to ‘who they’re dating/involved’ with? do better people, you all are really embarrassing

username18 honestly, i don’t really care who she’s dating. just give me tickets to see her next performance 😭

username3 oh you’re so really for this

username4 why do broadway tickets have to be so expensive 😭😭😭

username5 bank heist plan meeting at my house at 8pm, pull up

username6 time to sell feet pics 😔💔

username19 she’s just gonna use lando for fame just like *coughs* magui *coughs* and besides, she wouldn’t be famous if it weren’t for carlos LMAO what a nepo baby

username7 DON’T YOU EVER COMPARED THAT VILE AND WRETCHED WOMAN TO Y/N! THE BLANTANT DISRESPECT. SHES BEEN SELLING OUT THEATRE BEFORE YOU COULD SPELL BROADWAY. CARLOS MAY BE HER BROTHER BUT HER TALENT GOT WHERE SHE IS RIGHT NOW. SIT THE FUCK DOWN. I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON THAT COUGH OF YOURS.

username8 username7 SLAYED, ATE, DEVOURED, LEFT NO CRUMBS

username20 yeah, i don’t really trust her. she’s probs only interested in lando bc of the clout that comes with being an f1 wag

username9 you DISGUST me. clout? clout??? mary, she’s the one with standing ovations every night. meanwhile, you’re hating from your couch. maybe try again.

username21 LANDO IN SPECS 😭😭😭 HES SO DREAMY 🥺🥺🥺

username10 people out here are tearing each other apart and so close in inciting civil war, while you’re out here commenting lando looks good in specs is so REAL 😭😭😭

username11 the vibe i bring to the function:

username22 the whole comsec got me laughing my ass off 😭 y’all are really bursting your nerves over this gossip that is completely baseless 😭😭😭 it’s NORMAL for him to hang out with carlos’ family and show support to carlos’ family member. like what the other commenter said, not everything has to be a dating rumor 😭😭😭

username12 EXACTLY.

username22 these people need to unclench their asshole. like omfg relax, brenda!

username23 if this is true, i don’t like it. lando needs someone who understands his world, not some theatre diva who’s only there for the spotlight

username13 ???? theatre diva ???? she’s literally been called the voice of this generation, a generational talent. she DOESNT need lando or his world, she has her own. stay bitter, though

username24 why are people so mean? she’s insanely talented and gorgeous.

username14 some people are just really fucking opinionated, like they know lando personally and that their opinions would matter. well news flash, lando wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at you nor date you all. fucking weirdos

username25 welp, this isn’t the comment section that i was expecting at all 🧍🏻‍♀️

username26 is this a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans? 😭😭😭😭

username27 vroom vroom kids vs. theatre kids

username28 this post alone had incited a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans 😭

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[vellazx]

Inspired by one of my friends prompts — Law x Reader (gender not specified) — Angst / Fluff

You were a Straw Hat.

The most perfect person in the world for him — on a different crew. You were someone who he couldn’t reach, no matter what he did.

He fell for you. Hard.

You always liked him. He was a pretty boy; perhaps the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. Ever since you laid your eyes on him two years ago in the auction house in Sabaody, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Hells, you didn’t even speak to him.

At first, he just believed you were some diehard simp who wasn’t genuine towards him. So he shrugged you off.

He was always rather insecure, not capable of believing someone actually loved him. Romantically, at least.

You talked (pestered) him the whole time he was on the Sunny due to the newfound alliance he made with your captain. Honestly, you didn’t really do a good job at hiding your feelings.

More like you didn’t even bother to hide them in the first place. You were so direct with him about how you felt.

Still, he wasn’t phased by your endless compliments and attempts at making him open up.

One night, however, he wasn’t in the best mood.

He said you irritated him. Bluntly.

After that, you decided to leave him alone. It felt unusual around the Sunny without your constant rambling. For some reason, his heart ached without your warmth by his side.

He told himself you meant nothing to him; only a temporary ally with good fighting skills he couldn’t risk losing.

However, in Dressrosa, when Doflamingo managed to capture you and him both, you acted strangely.

You saw how distressed he was, being helpless before the Warlord. Behind that tough exterior, there was a little boy, scarred from his past.

And, oh, how absolutely protective you got.

Doflamingo was holding you up by strings, blood spilling from every wound they cut into your skin. But you still retaliated.

Risked getting killed to escape the strings, all because you didn’t want Law to feel helpless. His emotions were through the roof whenever he realized you were trying to meaninglessly fight back. For his sake.

When you got out, you were a bloody mess, barely able to stand with how wobbly your knees were. Some of your bones were even broken.

He asked with wide eyes, “What were you thinking?!”

You simply smiled, and said, “You hate him, don’t you? I didn’t want to sit around and do nothing to help. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He met your gaze with an unfamiliar softness you’d never seen before. His heart skipped a beat.

That’s when he realized.

You fell first, but he fell harder. Way harder.

The whole time you were in Zou and Wano with him, he couldn’t stop staring at you. You shone like an angel in his vision. All your features amplified to make you more ethereal.

His teeth ground against each other whenever you got too close to one of your crew mates. Especially the blond cook. He swooned over you, and you laughed so wholesomely in response.

What he would do to just steal you for himself.

When Kaido and Big Mom were defeated, the whole country celebrating by holding a feast, Law offered to look around at all the games set up throughout the capital.

Happily, you dragged him around, completely forgetting that day when he said you were annoying.

He couldn’t stop admiring you as you indulged in the games.

His heart raced.

Ba-dump!

Ba-dump!

Ba-dump!

Gods, he couldn’t take it anymore.

So, he dragged you away, into a nearby alleyway. You flushed, asking him what was wrong. He was so red in the face that he looked feverish.

He hadn’t even touched you, yet he was drunk off of you. That same warmth he craved and missed.

Before you could question him any further, his lips brushed against yours, his hold on your wrist tightening. You gasped against him, not expecting the intimate contact.

Eagerly, you kissed him back.

He loved you too much for his own good.

“Come with me. Please. Leave this country with me.”

“Tra-.. Law. You know I can’t… I can’t do that.”

Fuck.

When he had to leave you behind, it felt like he was leaving half of his heart behind. With someone else. Under someone else’s supervision.

If anything happened to you, he’d steal you away without even asking for your permission.

But if something happened to him…

He just wanted you to know that he loved you.

[maya-caffrey]

Strawberry Froyo

pairing: tasm!peter x reader words: 1.4k a/n: y'all i suck at summaries but trust me, it's good summary: you make a new friend :) warning: none, this is pure unadulterated fluff, there's some language tho; ps: this is from the reader's pov

“Son of a-” I silently cursed to myself when I realized late for science. Again. It was the third time this week and I knew my teacher was not going to be pleased. I didn’t have time to waste so I picked up my big stack of books and raced down the hallway towards the classroom until I was oh so rudely knocked over by Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson who seemed to be in a hurry. Probably to bully some poor kid. Or teacher. Dick. 

“Hey watch where you’re going, Eugene” I yelled. Ah, crap. I knew he hated being called Eugene. Pretty much everyone knew. Boy was I in trouble.

“What did you just say?” Uh oh. Uh oh. Uh oh. Shit shit shit fu-

“Back off, man, come on. Leave her alone.” This was new. No one ever talked back to Flash. Especially not someone who knows him.  On one hand, I was flattered to see that someone was standing up for me, not that I couldn’t, but it was nice and on the other hand, I feared for this guy’s life. He’d banged heads with Flash before and it didn’t end well for him, as I remembered. He was in a few of my classes. Peter Parker. The kid with the death wish. And a really cool camera.

“Shut up, Parker. You’re in my way.” Flash was making his way towards Peter and my heartbeat got faster because 1, this never ends well, 2, I was scared for señor death wish, and 3, I was very late for science. Probably the wrong thing to worry about but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m late. I figured maybe apologizing would get him to calm down.

“Flash I’m sorry about earlier, I really am, but some of us need to get to class.”  Me. I need to get to class you pretentious douchebag. I was compelled to say it but I liked having teeth. 

He just stood there, silent, like he was desperately trying to calm down, or probably constipating, which I figured meant that I could go. I went back to my stack of books, now lying spread out on the ground, thanks to Flash. I started picking them up one by one when I was joined by a familiar face. 

“Here you go,” he said, after giving me a much larger stack than I had gathered single-handedly. Huh. That was fast. Not just in an impressive way but also in a sort of Are you ok? Are you having an acid trip? way. I put a stop to my train of thought and collected my books from him. He was gone before I could thank him. 

Timeskip brought to you by Psyduck 

After coming up with an excuse for why I was late to science (because I’m not the one with a death wish, no way I’m ratting out Flash), I took my seat and caught up on what I had missed from Gwen. It took me some time to realize that Parker was sitting diagonally in front of me and I wanted to thank him then and there. Despite establishing that he was running short of brain cells, ultimately he stood up for me. It’s not something people bother doing for me. I tore a sheet of paper, expressed my gratitude and I got a little brave and decided to add something more. I crumpled it up and threw it towards where he was sitting. Somehow, somehow, he turned and caught the paper ball. It was like he knew it was coming before it did. What. 

He looked behind him, confused as if to ask what is so important that you must interrupt science, you uncultured swine before relaxing after realizing it was me. Not gonna lie, that made me feel nice. Open it I gestured. He opened it to find a hand-written note that read 

Thank you for standing up for me :) Oh yes and also the books. Thank you for the books. What do you say I make it up to you? Froyo place around the corner, after school? -y/n

He looked at me and smiled before turning back and scribbling something down. I’d be lying if I said that smile didn’t make me smile too because oh lord it was the cutest thing ever. Like baby turtles walking for the first time. Or like baby axolotls. Like a ray of sunshine that -ow. I was distracted after the same paper ball from earlier found me again. I opened it to find the words  

I’d love to :) I’m looking forward to it. -Peter.  

Is it possible to find someone’s handwriting cute? Because I did. For some reason, it was adorable. I smiled to myself and then in his direction after reading it. I don’t know why, but I felt the need to save this paper for a long, long time.

I couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. 

Timeskip brought to you by Roadkill restaurant - you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em. 

I made it to the froyo place first, so I saved him a seat at the best table I could find. You could say I was a little nervous, but to be honest, he seemed very comfortable to be around. He was like a warm cloud of comfort. He was like an old friend you’ve known your whole life. He was five minutes late. 

“I’m so sorry. There was some stuff, and there was some more stuff after that stuff, and then I-”

“Dude, relax, it’s fine. Sit down. Breathe.” He was out of breath like he ran all the way here.

“I-Thanks. I’ll uh, yeah I’ll sit down.” He sat down and took a few minutes to catch his breath. I silently observed him in a non-creepy way and I realized that he was much more adorable closer. He’s the kind of guy who you’d thank after he bumps into you. 

The waiter was here to take our order. “strawberry froyo with cookie dough bites”, we both said simultaneously. Surprise is an understatement. 

“No way, I thought I was the only one,” I said.

“It is an elite combination, and no one can tell me otherwise.”

“Exactly. Everyone I’ve had froyo with says it’s trash, and it’s sad how so many people are wrong.” He laughed at this and told me about other bizarre combinations he had tried. 

We spent the rest of the evening at the froyo place and to say it was amazing would have been a huge understatement. We talked about movies, music, books, and other things we were both interested in and it was incredible how great we got along with each other, considering we’d never even had full conversations before. I felt comfortable around him like you didn’t have to run everything thrice inside your head before I said it. You know when you find someone so in sync with you, it’s like you’re the same person? Like you know exactly what they mean when they say something? That, times a hundred was how I felt. 

“Listen, y/n, I had a great time”

“Likewise, Parker,” I said with a smile. He smiled back and I swear to god one day it’s going to be the death of me. None of us knew what to say so we just smiled like idiots and stared at the suddenly very interesting walls and ground. 

“So, I’ll call you? Later?” I decided to break the silence.

“Oh, yeah, sure, do you have my number?” As he said this, he started getting a little restless and I could swear I heard police sirens somewhere in the distance.

“I don’t think I d-” Before I could complete my sentence, He took my hand, and started writing his number on my palm. As he was writing, I started to feel very aware of the fact that our hands were touching. I felt sort of jumpy like I wanted to twirl and hop my way home. He wrote it with utmost concentration and held my hand like a delicate artifact he was scared of dropping. He was so cute when he was focused. As soon as he was done, he walked away out the door and towards traffic while facing me before screaming “Call me!” and disappearing into the alley nearby on his skateboard.  

I realized I was still there, at the froyo place, lost in my thoughts before I decided to head home as well. Oh boy, I’m in trouble.

[walnutcookie]

good day fellow rodger fan, i rlly love your art it gives me whimsy and joy. do you have any headcanons ab him and glisten, perhaps toodles as well? (family dynamics my beloved actually) if not either way i think your stuff is still so rad.

AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!! <333 WEEPS TEARS OF JOY.... i do have some headcanons hehehe... in no particular order/organization heres some of my thoughts on them:

- Rodger is a sleepwalker. Very Embarrassed by it.

- Toodles really enjoys drawing !!! She likes to draw with the other toons a lot (especially glisten, but he usually just watches her and then treats her art like the mona lisa so she feels good about herself)

- rodgers reaction to any sort of physical affection is really funny because he doesnt know how to react. He wants to keep his awesome and mysterious persona but also he doesnt want to be rude or anything. does he reciprocate? does he try to get away before it happens??? does he say something or does he keep quiet? Usually it just results in him freezing up and going stiff

- also adding onto above he tends to be paranoid about peoples intentions. bro gets a hug from goob and freezes and hes thinking "is this an attempt to console me does he think im mentally unwell or is he trying to find my weaknesses so he can kill me"

- in general rodger can be a very paranoid person and starts panicking at the slightest threat but hes pretty good at stopping to think and clearing his head. Logically he knows goob wouldnt kill him and doesnt know his secrets but it is a thought that pops up in his head for a brief moment

- toodles is always very quick to jump in and try to help whenever someone is upset. She wants to help people as best she can so ofc she would but the problem is that shes never sure what to say to cheer people up :'] she tries parroting some of the things rodger has told her when she was sad but also from her experience it never works so she tries to distract people instead most of the time. it makes her feel really guilty whenever she doenst try to help or if she fails to make them feel any better

- Toodles is very close with teagan!! teagan is like her fun uncle :] they take care of toodles sometimes if rodger is busy (or cough missing). Tea parties galore!!!!

- glisten is romo-repulsed i know this in my heart ok. [i know ive drawn him doing romantic things i cant explain the nuances to this in a cohesive way im just projecting ontohim as a romo repulsed person in a relationship]

- Glisten is definitely introverted but not in the "ohh hes shy and hates people" way hes just drained when he talks to people even if he likes talking to people. He needs to take breaks from socializing a lot to recharge his social battery especially since hes always so worried about what people think of him but he also dies if hes alone too long

- toodles is actually VERY fascinated with bugs if theres an ant or a beetle or a roach or something in the facility shes gonna beg to keep it and make a house for it so she can "give it a better life" (glisten will not scream or freak out but there WILL be visible discomfort on his face and he will avoid that bug like the plague)

- rodger smokes cigarettes . He knows which employee(s) carry them around and will snatch one from their pocket at the right moment when nobody is looking... he tries covering his tracks and flushing everything down the toilet and covering up the smell but ofc he gets found out when theres a clog LOL.

- There was also suspicion when toodles started pretend-smoking and saying she was doing the thing that rodger did but most everyone else just assumed it was toodles being a silly little kid

okie dokieee thats all ill do for now !!! Thank you so much for this ask GAUH im so happy people are interested in my hcs for them n stuff 🥹

[heartmaddie]

hi maddie! could i request headcanons for oikawa and suna with a reader who has an rbf but also like squishy cheeks? bc that's what i have and i have a friend who rly likes to poke my cheeks and call me cute and ngl it makes me happy every time 🙈 ofc only if you want to write it!

JULIANA THIS IS SO CUTE.... tysm for the request i had sm fun writing it !!!!!

incl ; post time-skip , fluff , long distance (oikawa) , highschool relationship (oikawa) , intoxication (suna) , established relationships , chubby cheeks! reader , gn! reader chars; oikawa tooru , suna rintaro

oikawa tooru !

⋆ one of the reasons he was attracted to you visually was because of your cheeks!

⋆ he’s always touching/squishing them & talking about them

⋆ he thinks ur rbf is cute, he’ll poke your cheek to stop you from zoning out

⋆ he likes kissing your cheeks and feeling the soft skin against his lips

⋆ when he’s in argentina he misses them more than he can imagine

⋆˙⟡ —

‘long distance relationships don’t work,’

is what both of you had been told endlessly since tooru had decided to move to argentina. he would just dismiss it every time, but when tooru was finally alone on another continent, he couldn't shake the loneliness that gnawed at him every waking moment.

which is why he spent half his day on facetime with you, thirteen hours dedicated to watching you through the minuscule screen of his phone. the two of you would spend your time together in an oddly domestic way, sharing mundane moments, from cooking to cleaning. but in his heart, there was nothing more special than in the early midday when he’d watch you fall into slumber. he was captivated by the chubby skin he’d reminisced about & yearned to squeeze once again, watching delightfully as the puffy skin expanded and contracted with each breath.

so when you were finally in his grasp once again, and after copious amounts of hugs and kisses, he was spending a couple of minutes with his fingers kneading at the soft skin of your face in the cab, accompanied by you looking at him strangely. but the small smile he displayed absentmindedly made you comply.

it all rushes back to him once he sees you in his apartment, lazily flopping onto his bed and curling up in the sheets which smelt like him, blaming your exhaustion on jetlag, but he knows it’s more than that. he missed your warmth as well, after all. 

his heart swells immensely once you’re wrapped up in his arms & sheets once again. tooru’s lips were slightly parted from amazement, watching with full admiration as you slept peacefully. tentatively, his fingers reached out to quench the thirst he withheld for the past years without you, tooru’s fingertips were found prodding and poking your cheeks once again.

it was soft & warm & so greatly replenishing to do once again, he was so enchanted. tooru sported flushed cheeks and a tired smile as he found sleep creeping up on him suddenly. but for the first time in a while, his heart felt at ease with you & his slender fingers engulfing your face.

suna rintaro !

⋆ pretends to not notice your cheeks but gets all dreamy when he sees them

⋆ he uses them as stress balls kinda.. when he gets tensed up he’ll grab your face and squish it LOL

⋆ he kinda has a rbf as well but makes fun of you for yours

⋆ when you’re sleeping he’ll take his time to kiss your cheeks gently (wants to make up for the time you’re awake and he doesn’t)

⋆ he melts a little when you pout and your cheeks get all puffed up…

⋆˙⟡ —

suna was a quiet lover, he didn’t like publicly showering you with gifts and praise, or even physical affection. he hated it, despised it even. he much preferred to convey his affection through small gestures, ones he knew that only you would notice. but of course, this would be thrown away once he’d inebriated, he’d practically been climbing on top of you as you nudged him towards the car.

his arm was lazily slung around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his alcohol tainted breath as you pushed him into your car. your movements displayed a hint of exhaustion, eyes still droopy as you flopped into the driver's seat yourself. 

as you drove, suna sported an uncharacteristically soft smile, watching eagerly as you swiftly navigated the roads. there was this unseen elegance to you that only he could capture. he thinks you’re prettier when his eyes are a bit dazy and all he can make out properly is you.

you decide you kinda like him drunk when he’s whispering compliments into your ear while he’s hunched over your back as you open the door. he’s sweeter when he’s pressing drunk kisses against the expanse of your cheeks and neck. but ultimately, you were surprised when he tugged at the soft swells of your cheeks when you were busying yourself with wiping sweat off his brows.

“you’re pretty,” is what he mumbles against your skin, chapped lips brushing over flushed cheeks as you cradled his head, the other hand grasping onto the glass of water he hadn’t finished yet. 

“thank you.” you muttered in reply, drained from not only the late hour it was but also his incessant and petulant behaviour was maddening when all you wanted to do was wrap yourself in thick duvets.

soon, suna’s tugging you towards the bedroom, his face red when he pushes you against the mattress and bodies you, earning a small groan from your throat which evokes a giggle from him. he shifts up to press his cheek against yours, which was uncommon for him.

you looked towards him quizically,

“just rest.” he mumbles, lips brushing over your cheeks and lips, “i wanna take care of you now.” 

with that, his fingers found their way to the velvety swells of your face, offering you the comfort he somewhat deprived you of. he thought it was cute, the way you’d look up at him with tired, but albeit warm eyes as his fingers massaged into your skin, whispering praise into tired ears until you fell into a deep tranquil.

(can u tell i'm sleepy chat)

please like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed :p © heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work

[thoughtfulfiction]

Little Duckling

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

Warning: pregnancy and childbirth

Saturday 10pm

Justin had been asleep for almost two hours as you folded laundry and put it away in the nursery. Your induction was scheduled for Monday morning promptly at 8am and everyone within the Chargers organization knew that this was happening because your husband absolutely hated taking the day off. But this was understandably a special exception to the rule. You’d spent the last 9 months mentally and physically preparing yourself for this moment but the idea of having a human being relying on you for everything was still such a daunting task that you almost wished the day wouldn’t come. Not until you felt completely prepared at least.

And then the ache in your back and hips reminded you that your baby girl was quickly running out of room and would be making her entrance soon, whether you and your husband were ready or not. On the bright side, your stomach had dropped significantly in the last few days, allowing you to breathe easier and for Justin to poke fun at your pronounced waddle. He affectionately started calling you Mumble last week, from Happy Feet. The dad jokes were coming in strong.

You heaved yourself out of the chair you were parked in and were headed off to bed before a slight pain wrapped itself around the base of your stomach. The pressure moved from the back to the front, settling on a spot underneath your belly button. You stopped walking and used the wall to support yourself, rubbing small circles around the area until it passed. As a Braxton-Hicks veteran, you continued your trek to the bedroom, completed your nighttime routine and headed off to bed.

Sunday 2am

It happened again. The slight twinge of discomfort had you holding your breath for about 15 seconds before letting go and you had to take several deep breaths to recover. After a few minutes everything was normal again and you had to turn around to make sure that Justin was still asleep next to you. Throughout your pregnancy he’d become a much lighter sleeper, often waking up at ungodly hours to get you snacks or a few nights when you caught him talking to your belly, whether it was talking about the playbook or just telling her he couldn’t wait to meet her, it warmed your heart just the same. But you were thankful for now that he just missed that entire exchange because you were definitely not in labor…right?

Sunday 7am

You were definitely in labor. On a Sunday, when the Chargers were playing the Broncos at home. Of course. You’d experienced three contractions so far, just about four hours apart so you had plenty of time. There was no way in hell you were telling Justin. As soon as it was appropriate, you scooted yourself out of bed and went down to the home gym for some prenatal yoga and a good stretch, hoping it would provide a boost of positive energy. Then you hopped in the shower, allowing the warm water would relax your tense muscles and maybe help you delay the inevitable.

By 8:30 Justin was awake and making breakfast for the two of you while you sat on the couch watching New Girl. He brought your plate and a cup of orange juice to you which you were grateful for, but the thought of putting anything but the juice in your body made your stomach turn.

“Are you alright? You’ve barely touched your avocado toast and you’ve been devouring it the last few days.” He ran a gentle hand on your forehead like he was checking your temperature and caressed your cheek when he realized you weren’t abnormally warm. “I can make you something else before I leave if you want?”

“No, I’m fine! Just not hungry yet, I’ll probably eat later.” You lied through your teeth, desperately hoping that he would let it go. The excuse seemed to satisfy him enough for him to head back upstairs to watch some film and get ready. An hour and a half later, he headed downstairs just in time to find you stretching out your back, the cramp beginning to wash over you.

He replaced your hands with his own, slightly lifting your stomach to take the weight off for a bit. “Your stomach is hard as a rock,” he observed furrowing his brows and starting to piece things together. “Are you sure everything is ok?” His soft voice attempted to mask his worry filled words.

“Yeah I’m having a fake contraction, you know they’re so common these days.” You rushed out, attempting to use his extensive research against him. He could probably write his own version of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” with his newfound pregnancy knowledge. It was both impressive and scary how much he had grown to know what’s going on in your body before you did.

Although he nods his head in understanding, his face is still full of distress. And you could tell he was analyzing your words and tone of voice for any sign that you were lying, leaving you to mentally curse at the fact that he knew you so well and you’d need to work extra hard to convince him to go on like this was a normal day.

Although he let out a deep sigh, he didn’t ask any further questions. “I know, I just hate the thought of you being in pain and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

You tap his wrist so he can slowly drop your belly and you turn around in his arms. “You’re so cute, but it really isn’t that bad. A lot less painful than playing with ankle that’s hanging on by a shoestring I can tell you that.” You chuckle, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back and you felt compelled to return the favor, sensing he too needed some comfort. “Here’s what’s gonna happen today though. You are going to go and kick Denver’s ass then you’re going to come home, we’ll celebrate and then tomorrow you’ll be on your way to being the greatest dad to ever live. How does that sound?”

Justin chuckles, giving you a peck on the lips, nose and forehead. “If I’m half as good a parent as I know you will be, then I know I’ll be golden.”

“Stop it before I start crying, you know I’m super hormonal right now this isn’t fair.” You mumble, tears brimming your eyes. He gives you one last kiss before reminding you to call your friend Dani to stay with you, even though your moms were on their way to your home.

Once he pulled out of the driveway you could relax, letting out a deep sigh and patting your swollen middle. Crisis averted.

For now.

Sunday 12pm

Contractions were officially every hour and Dani was trying her best not to freak out in order not to freak you out. But she was definitely freaking out. What started out as more intense period cramps were becoming a lot sharper, so much so that you couldn’t even focus on Encanto, which was the last sign you needed to know that this was the real thing. You did manage to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and take a nap while she was with you, fluffing your pillows and telling you that you were doing amazing. Three hours later, there was a knock at the door and Dani went to open it for Holly and your mom. The two becoming best friends was probably the cutest thing in the world and your mom had even flown to Oregon three days before just to spend time with Holly and drive to California with her. They were the sweetest. And of course they brought snacks. There were lactation cookies for you in the freezer already but they brought more and they brought an abundance of food to eat during the game, which usually would have made your day, but today all it did was make you want to stick your face in the toilet.

You greeted the two women with hugs as Dani helped set up their spread and they immediately asked how you were feeling.

“I just woke up not too long ago so I’m feeling great now. Very ready to not be pregnant anymore so I can see my f—ohhh wow. Ow.” You groaned, one hand on your contracting belly and the other gripping the counter for dear life.

Dani’s eyes bug out of her head as she moves to rub your back. “That was the roughest one yet.” She was right, this one left your whole body sore, a loud reminder that things were definitely moving along.

“This one?” Your mom questions, looking between you and Dani. Then, she and Holly exchange a look.

“Oh my gosh sweetie, you’re in labor!” Holly exclaims, “we need to get a hold of Justin immediately. I’ll call Mark, I’m sure he’s already at the stadium.”

You cannot shake your head fast enough, “there’s no need to call him yet, that was the first bad one. And this game is important.”

“It’s Justin hun, every game is important,” Holly laughs, giving you a loving squeeze.

“But you know what’s even more important to him? You and that baby girl that’s getting ready to meet us soon. Are you sure you don’t want to tell him now?”

“I’m sure,” you sigh, allowing your mom to guide you back to the couch, sinking down into it with a groan. “Once the game is over he’ll be here and we’ll go have a baby. But not a moment before.”

Admittedly, it was getting harder to focus. Justin was playing great, but of course so was Bo Nix. The Chargers would score and the Broncos would answer. The Broncos would get a stop and the Chargers would force a punt. You were entertained but the battle happening within you was the most interesting one to the people in your house.

Your mom had gone down to find your birthing ball, which helped for about half a quarter, just in time for a Ladd McConkey touchdown to put the Chargers up by 10. By the end of the third you were forced into a squat behind one of the couches, spreading your legs to hopefully ease the increasing pressure on your hips. You breathed through the contraction, the sensation sending a pins and needles feeling near your tailbone. Holly made sure you stayed hydrated, having secretly texted her husband halfway through the fourth quarter when the game was firmly in hand to have their son home as soon as humanly possible. Contractions creeped on 30 minutes apart, leaving you panting and groaning in discomfort until your muscles relaxed.

Fifteen minutes later, you were pacing around the living room and you had to stop to hold onto the couch again, your mom helping you roll your hips as you felt thin beads of sweat building around your hairline. Things were getting real and scary and you needed Justin.

“What time is it?” You murmured, cupping your stomach with a hiss as the baby moved.

“It’s 7:15 and he’s on his way home, baby.” Your mom whispers, sensing your increasing distress, “he’ll be here soon.”

“My back hurts,” you state suddenly, a slight tremble in your voice. “Everything really hurts.”

Your mom grabs at your hips, squeezing them together to apply counter pressure, giving you momentary relief.

Dani was in charge of timing contractions and all you knew was the moment in between them where you could actually form a coherent thought. Time was no longer real. You headed upstairs for some time to yourself and a wave of nausea hit you and you emptied probably everything you’d eaten the entire day, which in hindsight probably wasn’t much. But you weren’t in the headspace to think clearly right now. You walked back towards to the bedroom and clutched the doorway, visibly feeling the heaviness of the baby moving down, almost sending you to your knees if it weren’t for the solid, calming presence that was suddenly in front of you.

“Hey babe.” You breathe out, feeling a little unsure that your legs were capable of holding you up until you could sit on the bed.

He pulled you into his arms as close as your belly would allow and pressed his lips your forehead. “Hi. Glad I could make it back in time. I knew something was off with you this morning,” he narrowed his eyebrows at you when he pulled away, walking you slowly back into the room placing a firm hand on the small of your back, making circles with it while holding your hand with the other. “Alright baby…long have you been in labor?”

You let out a dry laugh at his disappointed dad look. “Since 10 last night I think? But let’s focus on the important things, you played great and you won but man you guys really took a minute to shut the door on ‘em.”

“Right, the important things.” He says with a knowing smile. “I know you love football as much as I do now, but if you told me earlier I would’ve been at your side in a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

God, you hoped your baby had his caring heart. “I do know that, I really do. But I also knew that you’d be able to do both. The Chargers are your family too and—”

A contraction creeped up on you, leaving you to hold onto your husband’s forearms with a sharp sound of pain, the pressure reaching an overwhelming peak that you hadn’t experienced before.

“Squeeze as much as you want, it’s okay.” His voice attempts to soothe you but you couldn’t hear him over the animalistic grunt that escaped you. Your body tensed involuntarily and he could see your stomach hardening as the tension continued to build. There was nothing more he could do than hold you through it, until something gave way and the floodgates opened…literally.

Even he sounded breathless by the end of it. “Your water just broke.”

Sunday 10pm

Contractions in the house were terrible. But contractions in the car, with no cushion from the water bag made it feel like she was right between your legs.

“Justin, you have to go faster. Please.” You panted out, desperately clutching the grab handle and leaning your head back with a loud moan. “Can you turn on the air, I’m dying in here. And I need to put the seat back, my back is killing me, I’m sorry.” You felt like a turtle stuck on its back, waiting for someone to turn it over and set it free.

“Yeah, yeah do whatever you need. And you don’t need to apologize,” he pats you on the leg, “do whatever makes you comfortable, we’ll be there soon.” He kept looking between you and the road, slightly worried that he’d have to deliver the baby in the car. The only thing that slightly reassured him the whole drive was your sigh of relief when the fan came on. First babies were supposed to take a while but he’d missed the entirety early labor, so from the sounds that he was hearing he figured you were in or at the very least extremely close to the transition stage. His grip on the steering wheel tightened and remained that way until the birthing center came into view. Your parents had called ahead and would meet you there when given the word, so all you had to do was check in and you were brought to your private suite.

Seven centimeters dilated and without painkillers made your husband question any football toughness he thought he had. You were so close to meeting your baby and he was a mix of anxiousness, nerves and excitement. Most of all he felt so much love and admiration for your determination and strength. Holding off on telling him you were in labor so he could be there to get the job done with his teammates was one thing and it was a complete whirlwind to be there with you while you worked to bring your baby into the world.

Once he was finally able to tear his eyes off the baby’s heart monitor, all of his focus was back on you. He wasn’t going to say anything but the agony in your voice was really starting to take a toll on him. Months of mental preparation for this moment was nothing like the real thing and he felt utterly helpless, desperately trying to maintain some sort of control and be helpful in any way.

“Honey you’re shaking, are you cold?” Without even giving you time to answer he was up on his feet, reaching for his bag to grab the blanket he’d seen you drape over yourself on several movie night occasions.

You shake your head while your teeth continue to chatter, reaching for his left hand, “I think it’s the adrenaline. I’m okay I promise,” you shift uncomfortably in bed, trying to just go along with how your body is feeling and reacting. Your belly tightens, a white hot pain generating an unexpected moan as you palmed your stomach. Justin places his hand on top of yours, whispering to you that the contraction is almost over and constantly reminding you that you’re doing great.

The two of you decided to use gravity to your advantage and walk around the building since the entire floor was closed off at your husband’s request. He couldn’t risk anyone leaking the most private and cherished moment in his life.

“I can’t believe this is our last night as a duo.” Justin whispers, walking at a snail’s pace while you waddled alongside him. “It’s been a great ride, pal.”

“Wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. And I have a feeling this ride is going to get a lot more interesting from here on out.” You gave your belly a soothing pat.

He strokes your back as you sway your hips again, “thank you for choosing me to be the one that gets to do this with you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, more than anything in the world.” You grin, pulling him in for a soft kiss. His hand cups your face as he pulls you in even closer. The kiss oozed joy and gratitude. Your husband wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions spoke volumes.

You squeeze his arm again suddenly as pain bubbles deep in your core and you rip yourself away from him to press your lips together to stifle a yell. “We need to get back to the room. Now.”

The noises leaving your body would have horrified you if you weren’t already sitting backwards on the toilet wearing only an oversized t-shirt, with your legs spread and the man of your dreams digging his thumbs into your back. “Harder please,” you groan, feeling like your tailbone is seconds away from shattering.

“I’m not getting a break,” you cry, clenching your jaw, leaning back and asking him to help you up. He hooks his hands under your arms and basically lifts you to your feet. “It’s not stopping, I can’t—oh fuck.” It felt like you were going to throw up, but out of the other end, which could only mean one thing. “She’s—Justin she’s coming right now. I have to push.” You took a breath and focused completely inward, your entire body going rigid, shaky straining sounds of effort pouring out of you.

The quarterback immediately sprang into action,“easy babe, breathe. I’ve got you.”

You held onto one of his hands and moved into a squat on your shaky legs as he pressed the red button on the side of the bathroom door, allowing your midwife to come in.

The baby felt like it was seconds away from falling out, everything suddenly feeling like it was moving a mile a minute. The midwife was saying something but the ringing in your ears was so loud you couldn’t focus on anything but getting your baby delivered.

After another throaty shove, you came back to yourself a little, feeling a gentle hand rubbing your shoulder. “Babe? You gotta slow down. Take a second, I can already see her a little bit you can give yourself some time.”

“I can’t, the pressure is too much!” Tucking your chin to your chest, you let out a yelp as you push again, using him as a solid wall to rest against as you spread your legs to give your baby more room. “Holy fuck your baby is huge,” your husband and the midwife both laugh, “I’m sorry it’s just—this is really hard.”

Pushing felt good, even though it left you shaking like a leaf in a cold and sweaty frenzy. At some point during the delivery he’d pushed your hair back with his lucky headband that was always around his wrist if it wasn’t on his head. It was the most intense experience of your life but you took one look at those bright green eyes and he reminded you that he was with you the entire time and you knew you could do anything with him by your side.

Remington Grace Herbert was born Monday morning at 1:42am with those exact same eyes that you fell in love with.

“Hi Remi,” Justin sobs, kissing her cheek. “We’ve been waiting for you, baby girl.”

“She sure knows how to make an entrance.”

You hand her off to her dad after scooting over to give him more room on the bed. He wraps a free arm around you, securely holding her in his other one, totally in awe. “She’s so perfect. You’re perfect. You did so amazing, I’m so freaking proud of you.” He kisses the side of your head.

You cuddle into him with a content sigh, “Our perfect little duckling is finally here.”

[sturnswrites]

back to you - pt. 2

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ angst, crying, fluff, kissing 

⤳ you and matt break up after you leave for college but when summer break comes around you both can’t seem to shake the feeling of one another away.

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

The night air was cool as you followed Matt away from the noise of the party. Your heart raced with every step, your mind whirling with questions you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to. The backyard stretched into quiet darkness, string lights flickering above like hesitant stars.

He stopped near the edge of the yard, turning to face you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension hanging thick between you.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what did you want to talk about?”

Matt shifted, his hands finding the pockets of his hoodie as he looked down at the grass. “I just… I wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, your skepticism showing. “You dragged me out here to ask how I’m doing?”

He winced, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, that sounded bad. I just mean—I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I didn’t know how else to say it.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you pushed the feeling down. “Well, I’m fine. College is good. Busy, but good.”

Matt nodded quickly, like he was clinging to every word. “That’s good. That’s great. I figured you’d be killing it out there. What’s your favorite class so far?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is this really what we’re doing? Small talk?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I want to know how you’ve been. I missed you, okay?”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to keep your voice steady. “You missed me? Really? Because it didn’t seem like that when you broke up with me, Matt.”

His shoulders sagged, and he let out a long breath. “I know. I know I messed up. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. To explain.”

“Explain what?” you asked, crossing your arms. “That you didn’t think we were worth the effort? That you thought I’d be better off without you?”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. “That’s not what I thought.”

“Then what did you think?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you—from me, from the distance, from everything that could go wrong. But I was wrong, Y/N. I was an idiot for leaving you.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Matt—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I’ve done since then is regret it. You were the best thing in my life, and I threw it away because I was too scared to believe we could make it work.” He paused, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But I’m not scared anymore. I want to make this right. Make us right.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to let yourself believe that things could go back to the way they were. But you couldn’t ignore the part of you that was still hurt, still hesitant.

“You think it’s that simple?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You say you want me back, and we just forget everything that happened?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I know it’s not simple. I know I have a lot to make up for. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes—if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. “You really hurt me, Matt.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes full of regret. “And I’ll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I’m not going to hurt you again.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you hated how much you still loved him, how much you wanted to believe he meant every word. “I’ve been trying so hard to move on,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His breath hitched, and he stepped even closer, his hand hovering near yours. “You don’t have to move on,” he said. “We can figure this out together. If you still want me—if there’s even a chance—please, Y/N. Let me try.”

You looked into his eyes, and for the first time in months, you let yourself hope. “I never stopped wanting you,” you admitted.

Matt exhaled shakily, and before you could second-guess yourself, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, as if he was pouring every unsaid word into that one moment.

- 

The party was a distant memory as you walked into Matt’s house, the one you hadn’t been inside since last summer. The air inside was familiar, carrying the faint scent of laundry detergent and candles you were sure Nick insisted on burning. Memories tugged at your heart—laughing on the couch with his brothers, late-night talks in the kitchen, falling asleep in his arms on that very couch after a movie marathon.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Matt hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, do you want water or something? I don’t know how long you want to stay, but—”

“Water’s fine,” you said softly, your eyes scanning the space. The house looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Or maybe it was you who had changed.

Matt disappeared into the kitchen, and you wandered into the living room. Your fingers brushed against the back of the couch, your mind flashing to all the times you’d sat there together, tangled in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing.

“Here,” Matt said, breaking the silence. You turned to find him holding out a glass of water.

“Thanks.” You took it, your fingers brushing his, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Do you… want to go to my room?” he asked tentatively.

You hesitated. That room held so many memories, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to face them. But you nodded anyway, following him down the hall.

When you stepped inside, your chest tightened. Everything was the same—the posters on the walls, the rumpled comforter on the bed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air. It was like stepping back in time, except now there was an invisible wall of tension between you.

Matt hovered near the door, rubbing his hands together nervously. “You can sit down, you know. You don’t have to stand there like it’s some kind of museum.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “It kind of feels like one,” you admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He joined you, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you.

“Why does this feel so weird?” you asked finally.

“Because we’re not the same people we were a year ago,” he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your hands. “Yeah. We’re not.”

Matt shifted closer, his knee brushing yours. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I mean… we’ve changed, sure. But the way I feel about you hasn’t.”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your voice steady. “Matt, I don’t know if I can just… pretend like everything’s okay again. You broke my heart.”

He winced, his hand running through his hair. “I know. And I’ll never stop regretting that. But, Y/N, I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. Just… tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked something inside you. “I don’t know what I need, Matt,” you admitted. “I just know that being here with you—it’s messing with my head.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “I don’t want to mess with your head, Y/N. I just want to show you that I’m still the guy who loves you more than anything. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you blinked them away. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “It’s messy, and it’s going to take time. But I’m willing to fight for it—for you. If you’ll let me.”

Your heart was pounding, and before you could overthink it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that felt like both an ending and a beginning. He froze for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening, and then he kissed you back with a desperation that took your breath away.

His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, every ounce of love, regret, and longing pouring into it. When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing hard.

“God, I missed you,” Matt whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smiled faintly, your chest aching in the best way. “I missed you too.”

-

After hours of being tangled in each others embrace, you had decided it was too late to go home and that you would stay the night. 

Matt settled beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, but you couldn’t fully relax.

He noticed immediately. “You okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

You hesitated, then sighed. “I just… I need time to adjust to your existence again.”

He hummed softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words settled something in you, and you let yourself relax against him, his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

-

One month later, you found yourself back in Matt’s room, perched on the edge of his bed. The atmosphere was warm and familiar, but there was a quiet weight in the air that neither of you could ignore. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—reconnecting in ways that made your heart race, stolen moments of laughter, and soft touches that reminded you of the love you once shared. But there was something still unspoken between you, something that needed to be addressed.

Matt sat across from you, cross-legged on the bed, his fingers idly toying with the hem of his hoodie. He seemed nervous, his eyes darting to you and then quickly away, like he was trying to find the right words but was afraid of what they might mean.

You broke the silence first, unable to take the tension anymore. “We’ve been avoiding this conversation, haven’t we?”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, we have.”

You tucked your legs underneath you, the comforter soft beneath your fingers as you fidgeted with it. “We’ve been spending so much time together, Matt, but we haven’t really talked about… what this is.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze finally meeting yours. “I know. And I think about it all the time. I just… I didn’t want to push you. I wanted to give you the space to figure out what you wanted.”

Your heart ached at his thoughtfulness, but it also made you more anxious. “And what about you? What do you want, Matt?”

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I want this. I want you. But I need to know that you’re ready for that too. I don’t want to rush you into something you’re not sure about.”

The honesty in his voice made you feel like the room had shrunk, like it was just the two of you in this little bubble of vulnerability. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, and he immediately took it, holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, Matt. And the thought of going through that again…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “It terrifies me.”

His grip on your hand tightened, his gaze unwavering. “It terrifies me too,” he said softly. “But I’m more terrified of not trying. Of letting you slip away again because I was too afraid to fight for what we have.”

You blinked back tears, your chest tightening with emotion. “What if we mess it up again? What if—”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he interrupted gently. “Together. Y/N, I can’t promise that everything will be perfect, but I can promise you this—I’ll fight for us. Every single day. Because not having you in my life was�� it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. And I’m not making it again.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped down your cheeks. He reached out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the wetness as it fell.

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N. And I’m not letting you go again. Not now, not ever.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, the weight of his words sinking into you. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I never stopped either.”

The relief on his face was immediate, and without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was slow and tender, full of all the emotions you’d both been holding back for so long. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you felt like the world had melted away, leaving only the two of you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. “So what does this mean?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his hoodie.

“It means we take it one day at a time,” Matt said, his voice steady. “No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring it out.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think I can handle that.”

He grinned, his boyish charm making your heart flutter. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go again, Y/N. You’re stuck with me.”

You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. In that moment, the fear and uncertainty faded, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a new beginning.

And for the first time in months, you felt like everything might just be okay.

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

heheh ok i'm actually obsessed with this

⭒ margot

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing XV.V (The missing chapter)

Master list link here (includes chapter links, summary, and character bios)

A/N: I took this chapter out because it made references to things I hadn't talked about in this story (but will in the prequel series!). And because I felt like it would have made the chapter after this one (and in the story's current iteration Chapter 16) less climactic--though it probably would have been pretty climactic with the cliff hanger in hindsight. It's a short one, so please enjoy. The final chapter will be out on its usual post day!

Warnings: physical violence, blood, knife, stabbing, wounds, referenced death, character death, mcd, unconsciousness, referenced heat injury

“You are sadly still so predictable,” Owen drawled as he grabbed for another knife from his bandolier of blades. He had slipped back into their native tongue. He had, Dylan realized, always spoken to Dylan in their mother tongue. Only when it was absolutely necessary did he use the language native to Patricanus.

And you haven’t changed either. “Does it matter? We both know how this ends, Owen. Give it up.” I will end you. I will rip you limb from limb. I will destroy you. You did this. You gave me no choice.

“Yes, it ends with me winning and imbuing your sweet paramour. Do you think she will be as monstrous as me? Or perhaps as monstrous as you?” Owen chuckled as he dodged another attack from Dylan.

Dylan and Owen continued to trade blows. Both weapons fought with their powers, Owen combining his attacks with his physical weapons. Their chests heaved as they panted. Neither had had a fight that required this much strength in nearly a decade. “Isn’t this lovely,” Owen said as he tossed a bent knife to the side before drawing another, “two of the most powerful beings in the world set to destroy one another.” He glanced over his shoulder at Halle. “Perhaps she will join our ranks soon.”

Hold on, sweetheart. I won’t let him hurt you. “Owen,” Dylan said as he raised his fist once more, “it doesn’t have to be this way. If you agree to stop, if you agree to come willingly—“

“You’ll what, kill me quickly? I’m not going to do that.” Owen released a large pulse of energy at Dylan. It missed Dylan by a wide margin, blasting a large hole in the wall behind him. Shouts of pain and alarm rang out.

Dylan gritted his teeth. His side pinched. He could feel blood leaking through his shirt and making his side slick. He didn’t dare check the wound. It doesn’t matter. It is minor. Minor pain. I have had worse. I need to stop him. I need to stop him from destroying everything. He knew he was burning through his vast reserve of energy. But most of all, Dylan hated the loss of innocent human life. “Do you care so little for your minions you would kill them to hurt me?”

Owen smirked. “Yes, wouldn’t you?” Owen sent another energy blast at the wall, vaporizing the scattering men. “That’s what they are for. They are weak. We are strong. We can destroy everything.”

“You cannot do this, Owen. You cannot destroy everything. Think of what we could rebuild. Think of all the lives we could save.” Please. Please don’t make me do this. I…I don’t want to. Dylan realized with a pang of guilt. As much as he hated what Owen had done, as much as he hated the destruction and waste of life, he didn’t hate Owen. And killing Owen would kill a part of him. Please, we were friends once. We can still be friends. Please, don’t make me kill you.

“I can. And I will. Because I can. And because I want to.” Owen lunged towards Dylan again, his knife flashing bright. Dylan easily dodged Owen’s attack once more, but realized his mistake when Owen charged towards Halle.

“No!” Dylan surged forward, realizing too late, this was exactly what Owen wanted. Owen stabbed the knife up and into Dylan’s gut, burying it to the hilt. Dylan tried to breathe through the pain as Owen rode his body to the ground.

“Like I said, Dylan,” Owen ripped the knife up and through Dylan’s body until he hit bone. Dylan gasped through the pain, “so predictable.”

“Owen,” Dylan hissed as he felt Owen rip the knife from his gut. “Owen, please,” he said. “Owen, ahh—“ Dylan cried out as Owen shoved his hand into the wound. His world whited out with pain as Owen wormed his fingers into the wound on his side.

“There, that’s it. Yes, you are where I always planned for you to be, Dylan.” Owen’s face was inches from Dylan’s. “I have been waiting for this moment.”

“Owen, I’m sorry,” Dylan whispered. I cannot let you do this. I cannot let you win. If you win, the world burns. If you win, she dies. I cannot let that happen.

Owen froze. “What are you sorry for? Wounding me?” Owen wriggled his fingers deeper into the wound. Dylan cried out with pain. “What’s the best way and only surefire way to kill a weapon?”

Dylan gritted his teeth. I don’t want to do this. But you are leaving me no choice. Please, Owen. “Owen—“

“That’s right, you destroy the heart. A head shot will probably kill them, but not always. But the heart? The heart is the only way. I’m going to rip your heart apart, Dylan. And then I’m going to wake up your love so she can see your corpse as I turn her.” Owen twisted his arm, shoving it further into Dylan’s body. “I’ll reach your heart either through your belly or through your side. It doesn’t matter. I will have your heart. I will win.”

Destroy their heart. This is the only way. I’m sorry, Owen. I’m sorry this is what it came to. You left me no choice. “Killing me won’t bring them, any of them back. Killing me won’t bring her back.”

Owen froze. Dylan continued. “Killing me won’t change what happened. Killing me won’t bring—“

“You don’t get to say her name. You don’t get to say anything about any of them. And yes, killing you won’t bring them back. But it will make me happier.”

Dylan closed his eyes tight against the sting of tears. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I tried. You left me no other way. I would have found another way. You left me no choice, Owen. Dylan raised his shaking left hand to touch Owen’s chest as Owen tried to dig further and further, searching for Dylan’s heart. He didn’t even notice when Dylan touched his shredded shirt. “I am sorry,” Dylan whispered as he unleashed his power. “I am truly sorry, Owen,” he said to the red mist that filled the air.

You’re free now. Free from pain. Free from all of this. Free from suffering. I am sorry. Fare well, my friend. May the next life treat you better.

Dylan lay in the growing pool of blood for a moment longer, slowly trying to take stock of his injuries. He had worse pain. But he knew it had to be bad. It didn’t matter. He had to get to Halle. Sweetheart. I’m coming. Hold on. I love you. I love you. I love you.

With a stifled howl of pain, Dylan rolled onto his uninjured side and slowly tried to stand up. He pressed his hand to his gut as he rose on shaking legs, gasping with pain as every muscle protested the movement. He couldn’t stop. He had to keep going. He took two tentative steps on shaking legs. Good enough. I can get us out of here. I’m coming, sweetheart. Hold on.

Halle lay where she had fallen after her head struck the wall. She hadn’t moved during his entire fight with Owen. Please, be ok. You have to be ok. Dylan stumbled over to Halle, collapsing to his knees, relieved to see she was alive.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Dylan said as he braced himself. Carefully Dylan lifted her, stumbling slightly as he tried to get his balance. Though Halle was petite, he struggled to carry her. He knew his wounds were much worse than he initially thought as he struggled to balance. “I’ll get us to the team. They’ll look after you. Just hold on.”

Halle hung limply in his arms, her limbs swaying with his staggering. The room spun around him. No. Just a bit farther. Just a bit longer. Dylan refused to give up, refused to let his body give out. She needs help. I have to get her to help. Hold on, sweetheart. I have you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Dylan only managed to get a few steps before his legs gave out completely. He didn't have the energy to get back up, to carry her and go forward. “Oh,” he sighed. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Halle. I can’t. You’re going to have to walk out of here. I….I can’t carry you. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I…Please wake up soon. Please be ok.”

He held Halle tightly in his arms. He rubbed gentle circles on her back. Dark spots flecked his vision. He shook his head. Come on, sweetheart. You have to be ok. I am alive because you are alive.You have to be alive. I love you. I love you. I love you.

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[bloodnikki]

Ekko loves Jinx. He loves every side of her even if he can’t get the name right. He wonders why it’s a struggle to accept her as Jinx until she’s gone and it hits him.

Guilt. It’s guilt that made him unable to let go. It’s guilt for his people. If he accepted as Jinx, and loved her anyway, he would’ve been a failure to them. He wouldn’t have been able to look them in the eyes as he fought to protect them.

Powder’s still in there was code for I’m not a bad person for wanting her. It maybe why he was so angry he wouldn’t let him call her that. Jinx wanted him to remember her crimes. Jinx needed him to see her for who she was.

He gets why she stayed with Silco. He was an awful man but at least he cared for her enough to respect the person she wanted to be. Ekko had been ashamed to love her.

‘Hey, I know we were meant to have this big talk after the battle but I can’t. I’m tired of talking. We run around in circles. Powder, Powder you say and I say I’m Jinx and you give those big eyes and I feel shitty for being me and you feel shitty because I’m me. I can’t do that. So, I’m just gonna listen to Silco. I’m going to end the cycle. He came to me the other day talking about being brave enough to end cycles or some nonsense. He talks too much. I guess it’s finally time I listen. Kinda owe him one time seeing as I killed him.

Ekko, do you ever wonder what we could’ve been? I do. Not all the time. I’m not that crazy but I do. It reminds me of how fucked and jinxed I am and your stupid big eyes and I just can’t do this anymore. It would’ve been easier if you just killed me.

So, no big talk. Instead, I’m ending the cycle. I’m going to this place I heard about from Vander when he was still kicking around. Maybe if we met there things would’ve been different.’

Ekko.hates when he finds the letter stuffed in his things at the lab. He thinks how he thinks of it as their lab but it’s not. It’s all hers and she’s gone. Vi said she didn’t make it. He cries for what feels like hours. He leaves and can’t will himself back to their shared space.

He misses her so much. Everything reminds him of her. His feet take him back to their lab and he’s ready to mourn her all over again when he sees a letter that wasn’t there before. In large pink ink, the top read She Lives.

He flicks it open and the first lines make him chuckle. ‘I just can’t seem to die. So, the world is stuck with me. The world is stuck with me but that doesn’t mean I have to be stuck here. I doubt you’d like to come with. I’m scared you’d say no. So, I’ve gone on ahead. I’m going to check out this place here. If I miss you, which let’s face it, you most likely aren’t gonna come, I’ll leave a note on where I’ll head next. It’ll be like a game.’

Ekko hates how excited he is she’s alive. He hates the idea of not telling Vi or anyone. He tells Scar though. Ekko’s packing a bag and he tells Scar “she made it. I’m going. Things are covered here and ya got this and I’m going and-“

“Good. Go.” Scar understands. “Come back once you both are ready.”

“I… thanks.”

Ekko follows behind her. Some stops, he knows he just missed her. Everyone tells him stories about her and he reads her letters. He cries some nights looking them over. She leaves a photo behind for him. The back reads ‘look at me! I’m finally putting on some pounds. Maybe I’ll finally grow boobs.’ She looks beautiful.

Their messages are a one way street. She can talk to him but he can’t talk to her. It must be justice for all the times he shut her out when he wanted to speak to Powder and only got Jinx. Ekko buys a notebook on the way to the third town. He wants to write down his thoughts to share later with her.

It’s almost two years and he’s just missed her more times than he could count. He wonders if she’ll ever slow down enough to let him catch her. From her letters, it sounds like she’s scared he isn’t coming. He hates that she’s no faith in him. Of course he’s coming. He loves her.

It finally happens. He finally sees her in person and there’s no way she’s getting away, unless she runs. He really hopes she doesn’t run.

“Ekko.”

And that’s it. He’s never letting her out of sight again.

[bqstqnbruin]

Just Friends - Part 3

Dear GOD this was the last week before break and parent teacher conferences so it has been a long one. I have 39 conferences for who knows why between Monday and Tuesday

Read the previous part here

WC: 3774

Warnings: parental death mention, asshole coworkers, swearing

________________

Emeline’s phone was buzzing so much while she was teaching that her students ended up teasing her for violating her ‘no phones in class’ policy. She tried to argue that while the phone was buzzing, she wasn’t looking at it, but as soon as she did that, she had already lost, sending her lesson into disarray and forcing her to rethink the rest of the unit as she had planned it. Jeremy was texting in the newly formed group chat between the five of them about the girls going to see a game at the Garden. 

Emeline had to ignore the messages until she finally had a free period before lunch, silencing her phone as soon as she could, sitting down thankful that none of her students had asked if they could come in for help during what was probably going to be the only time she had to be alone for the rest of the week. She reads through what seemed like a hundred messages from the four of them, Fran and Maddy already agreeing, John letting them know that the tickets were all ready for them.

They just needed to know if Emeline was going.

She didn’t want to go.

First, it was a game in the city after what would be another long day at school and she wouldn’t have time to change or even drop her work bag anywhere before having to get to the arena. She knew the T well enough to navigate the green line, but knowing the public transit in the city, it would mean she would show up to the game at least an hour late, if not later but the time she got home and back. 

Second, she knew nothing about hockey. She didn’t really want to know about hockey, if she was being honest with herself. She already knew about lacrosse and that was enough for her considering how many other things she had to know. Emeline wanted to instill a love of learning in her students, but at a certain point, she understood when someone just got too overloaded with knowledge. Her dad was the one who taught her lacrosse, never really caring about any other sport besides basketball when she was growing up, the ‘08 Celtics team something he never stopped talking about, but she was still confused about the fact that there were ‘field goals’ in the sport. There was no field, and it was a basket, not a goal. 

Third, it meant she had to see Jeremy.

That day in the elevator was weird for both of them, neither of them acknowledging that it had happened. Emeline wasn’t even really sure what had happened between them. She hadn’t even told Fran and Maddy when they told each other everything. And that meant everything. Keelan still wasn’t pleased with the fact that her roommates had a habit of somehow using the birthmark on his lower back as ammo against him any chance they could.

Fourth, Keelan would hate it.

That last one didn’t bother her as much as it should. 

Before she could even begin to try to figure out why, Javier, one of the other chemistry teachers, pokes his head into her room. “Department meeting after school?”

“For fucks sake, what?” Emeline groans, pulling up her email to see the missed message from Anderson letting them know they were all meeting in his room after school, attendance mandatory. That meant she had to push that lacrosse workout the athletic director asked her to schedule by at least an hour, which meant she would have even less time to get to the game tonight. It actually might not be such a bad thing if it weren’t Anderson scheduling it. “God, I would have willingly taken an overload if it meant he didn’t have to share a prep with us.”

Javier laughs, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, because you have time to teach the five classes you have as it is.” 

“He really thinks we have no lives outside of these jobs, doesn’t he?”

Javier comes in, sitting at the desk in front of her. “Well, because of him, we don’t.” 

“Any ideas what it’s about?”

“Probably him trying to scold you for your phone going off all morning,” Javier teases, leaning forward. Before she can even ask how he would know, “I’ve heard nothing in the halls besides ‘Pritch’s phone won’t stop buzzing. Do you think it’s her boyfriend? Do you think it’s her girlfriend? Do you think something’s wrong?’” he says, making his voice higher to mimic their students.

Emeline scrunches her face. “Teenagers are too invasive.”

“Is the answer ‘yes’ to any of their questions?” Emeline sighs, giving him her phone. “Free Bruins game tonight? That’s awesome, can I come, too?” 

“I’m not even going,” she scoffs.

“Why not?” Emeline gestures to everything around them as if to tell him anything in front of her could be a reason why. “Tell Anderson you’re sick and have to go home.”

“I have lacrosse after school.”

“We have lacrosse after school,” he corrects her, his not so subtle way of reminding her that she had roped him into being the assistant coach when the previous one moved to a different state for her wife’s job. “I can run the workout, no problem.” 

“You’ve never done that before,” she tells him.

Javier rolls his eyes, tapping away on her phone. “They’re teenage girls. They’ll just sit on the bikes because they refuse to do anything else, anyway. How much do we care? And Jeremy said he can pick you up by 4:30 for the game, which gives you plenty of time to start the workout if you wanted to.” 

Emeline practically lunges across the desks for her phone. “You fucking didn’t.” She reads the messages, ‘her’ telling him she wants to go but has to stay at school late. He even brought up the fact that she wouldn’t get home in time to change and drop her bag off. Fran and Maddy letting her know they would have a change of clothes waiting for her in the car, and that her work bag would be safe there. “Really bold of you to do to the person in charge of ordering the sulfuric acid.”

“You’re not gonna kill me and dissolve my bones, Emeline. The sulfuric acid they sell doesn’t have a high enough concentration for you to be successful, and you know that.” She scoffs. “If I’m not here, who are you going to sit with at these stupid department meetings.”

“Touche.”  

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, Emeline’s phone continuing to light up with messages in the group chat. She knew that Jeremy and John really didn’t have much to do besides prep for a game, but Maddy was in hour ten of her twelve hour shift at Mass Gen, and Fran was normally swamped with meetings all day, every day. Why did they suddenly have all this time to be on their phones texting the boys? And how did they have any energy left to go to a game that was going to keep them out until almost 11 pm? How was she going to stay up past 11 pm when it was a school night? She didn’t even stay up that late on the weekends half the time.

Keelan never texted her during the day. Not even to check in and ask her how it was going for her. Granted, she never texted him either because she couldn’t be on her phone in the first place, but isn’t that something a boyfriend was supposed to do? Even if it was just once in  a while?

Jeremy did.

By the time the last period of the day was over, Emeline was exhausted, and she was sure her phone was, too. Javier swung back by her room as she was packing her bag to head to the dreaded last minute department meeting. Nothing good ever happened when there was a last minute meeting at the end of the day.

“Any idea what this is about?”Javier whispers to Nick, one of the biology teachers, as he and Emeline sit down in Anderson’s classroom. Nick responds with a shrug, something surprising considering Anderson normally tells him everything. 

Anderson claps his hands together, his annoying attempt to get everyone’s attention, just like always. “Alright, let’s start.” He pauses, staring at what Emeline can only imagine are the blank and unimpressed stares of 10 men and herself. “Admin emailed me during first period asking me to remind everyone that phones are not to be used during class unless they are being used for learning purposes.”

Emeline and Javier exchange annoyed glances. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Emeline mutters. This could have been an email.

“Which is perfect timing since I heard all about Ms. Pritchard’s phone today in the halls. Care to explain, Emeline?”

Emeline shrugs, knowing that if she tells him off like she wants to, he’ll just use it against her right away for being ‘too emotional,’ or something else stupid like that. Being the only woman in the science department and him being the sexist asshole that he was, he used every minute detail he could to try to argue that she was unfit for being a science teacher as a woman. “I had my phone on vibrate and I was getting messages from my friends during my lesson. I turned it off as soon as I got the chance.”

“Well, no phones during class. And to make sure there are no phones during class, you’re all going to be bringing them to my room at the beginning of the day.” Emeline lets out a laugh while the guys start their protests immediately as Anderson pulls out a blue plastic bin that he taped a piece of paper to with ‘PHONES’ written in his obnoxiously messy handwriting. No one particularly liked Anderson, but he knew how to kiss the administration’s ass, hence the reason he was the department head and not someone who was actually competent for the job. “You can thank Emeline for that.”

“Didn’t you say you were told this reminder this morning?” Nick brings up.

“Yes,” Anderson says, crossing his arms across his chest.

“And my phone wasn’t going off until after that,” Emeline points out.

“And didn’t you just interrupt your lesson to your freshmen yesterday because your wife was calling wanting to know what you wanted for dinner?” Javier asks.

“Yes.”

“So you’re taking our phones away because of you?”

“No phones,” Anderson tries to stand his ground.

“What if there’s an emergency? In or out of the classroom?” Emeline asks. “The phones on the walls were disconnected years ago, how are we supposed to call for help if the only working phones are in your room? Are we supposed to ask a student for theirs? That seems like a violation of privacy and a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Anderson’s face was starting to get red, the way it always did when he was losing whatever battle he decided to fight with the rest of the department. “What emergency out of the classroom could you have? You don’t have any family like the rest of us, Emeline.”

The room goes silent, Emeline sitting there stunned, trying to keep her composure. “I think we’re done. I’m not giving you my phone every day.” 

Javier tries to call after her as she leaves, Emeline barely overhearing Nick yelling at Anderson for going so low and being so out of line because of something so trivial. She didn’t need the department to see her in tears over this. She checks her phone, the group chat again blowing up to let Emeline know that they were on their way. She could just wait outside for them, or she could ditch them altogether and just go home. She didn’t want to go to the game before, and she definitely didn’t want to go to the game now. 

“Em, what’s wrong?” Fran jumps out of the car she didn’t even realize had pulled up in front of her. Jeremy and Maddy jump out before John can even stop the engine, all of them concerned about why she was standing on the sidewalk crying.

“I just,” she stammers. “Can we just get in the car?” She pushes past them and gets into the backseat, the shirt and somehow a jersey Fran and Maddy had grabbed for her sitting there waiting for her.

“Talk,” Fran demands once they all pile back in. “Was it Keelan?”

Emeline hadn’t even been thinking of Keelan. “What? No. Anderson.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“You don’t even know why, Francesca.”

“I don’t need a reason if I see Emeline crying on the sidewalk because of him, Madelyn.”

“Who’s Anderson?” John asks before the girls get into more of a bickering match, pulling away to start his drive to the arena.

“My department head,” Emeline explains, forgetting that he was the only one in the car who didn’t know..

“Her department head,” Jeremy tells him at the same time, causing Emeline’s heart to feel like it skipped a beat.

Emeline clears her throat as the rest of them wait for her to continue, trying to ignore the fact that she could see Jeremy’s small smile at her through the rearview mirror. “He threw a bitch fit about phones and said some shit. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Emeline, it’s not fine if this guy is making you cry,” Jeremy says, his voice unreasonably calming to her. “Do you want to tell us what he said?”

He was so different from Fran, who, while meaning well, would demand her to tell them every detail. Emeline takes in a deep breath, pulling her sweater up over her head to change shirts. “He called me out for not having a family anymore.”

Fran and Maddy screamed so loud in disgust that John almost rear ended the person in front of them on Storrow Drive, trying to keep his composure and not hurt them before the game while her two roommates were swearing like the words were about to be banned and it was their last chance to use them. 

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asks over Fran and Maddy, twisting around to look at Emeline in the last row of the car.

Emeline looks down at her lap, hating that this conversation had to happen whenever she met someone new. “My mom left right after I was born, so my dad and his mom raised me. My dad died when I was ten and then my grandmother died when we were freshmen.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Jeremy and John tell her in unison, Fran and Maddy still fuming.

“I don’t know any lawyers, can this be a lawsuit?”

“We can probably use some of my dad’s lawyers after I kill him. I cannot believe he would say that to you.”

“You would need someone who does criminal defense if it’s a murder case. Business law and criminal law aren’t the same thing,” John points out.

“Whatever, just drop it.”

“Emeline-”

“No. I asked you to drop it. I can handle it. Nick was yelling at him and one of the physics teachers always records the meetings so if I really need to, I can get the sound bite from him. Anderson is just a petulant asshole who hopefully will get what’s coming to him sometime soon. There’s nothing to do right now.” 

They drive in silence the rest of the way to the Garden, Emeline staring out the window. She could just text Keelan and ask him to pick her up. Except, he never would. He would bitch the entire time about having to make the drive into the city, especially when North Station was right there. Why should he pick her up when she could get home by herself?

John parks, everyone getting out. Fran and Maddy go ahead with John while Jeremy stays behind with Emeline, a small tea from Dunkin in his hand.

“Do you still want to stay for the game? I can pay for your T ride if you want to go, or I’ll get you an Uber if you want to be in something more private. I’d offer to drive you back but, not my car, would miss the game, would probably be benched for the next few games,” Jeremy rambles.

“I’m fine,” she tries to assure him, not sounding convincing to even herself. She tries to think of something else to say, finding herself just staring at Jeremy. He was dressed up in a suit and tie, something that hadn’t registered to her when they were outside her school. She loved when Keelan had an excuse to wear something nice, but this? She could feel herself short circuiting over this. 

“You have more tattoos that you didn’t show me?” Emeline looks at him confused, pushing aside whatever was going on in her mind as his face turns red. “I swear I wasn’t trying to look but you were talking and I was trying to make eye contact, and I saw some tattoos on your ribs.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Would you tell me about those?”

Emeline takes in another deep breath, something she found she was doing way more to calm herself down lately. Keelan still barely knew about those tattoos. He knew they were there, but he didn’t know the meaning behind them. He had never asked. “My grandmother and I would always say ‘I love you more,’ after the first person said I love you, so I have that on my right side in her writing. My dad would tell me that I deserve to be loved whenever I was upset about my mom when I was little. So I have that on my left side in his writing.”

“I like that. Are you better now?”

“What?”

“You said the other day that sometimes rambling helps calm a person down, right? It’s not whatever happened in the elevator,” Jeremy says, trailing off, kicking a stone back and forth that had found its way into the depths of the garage.

Emeline laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, it does, help.” 

“And you kind of do have a family, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t tell me Fran and Maddy aren’t like your family. And you’ve got me, and John, too, if you want us.”

“Yeah.”

“And Keelan.”

Emeline sighs, knowing that the person furthest from her mind shouldn’t be her boyfriend. “Yeah, and Keelan,” she says with a small voice. Emeline looks at him and smiles. Without thinking, she pulls him in for a hug, squeezing him as tight as she could. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Oh, and here,” he says, handing her the cup of tea. “I thought since you would be out later that you’d need some caffeine.”

Emeline looks at the sticker on the cup, her exact order written out on it. “Thanks,” she tells him. She had told him what she got from Dunkin maybe one time, in passing. He remembered her order. 

The two of them walk in silence to catch up with the other three ahead of them. Emeline’s phone was buzzing again, this time with messages from Keelan asking what she was up to that night.

She could ignore him. She wanted to ignore him. He had her location, he could just look and see that she was at the Garden. But why would he go out of his way to check on her when he could just have her tell him? 

Jeremy and John say their goodbyes until after the game, Jeremy giving a smile to Emeline before disappearing. 

“I’m actually excited for this. We haven’t been to any hockey game together since, what, sophomore year?” Maddy asks, once getting through security and up to the arena, pulling the girls in the direction of the nearest bar, ordering beers for her and Fran and a Coke for Emeline, probably knowing that she needed all the caffeine she could get if she was going to stay up that night.

“I think it was freshman year, actually. BC beat BU in overtime,” Emeline says.

“I got asked out that night by one of the guys on the team, too,” Fran says.

“Who asked you out?” Emeline asks, her heart starting to race for a reason she couldn’t explain.

“Uh, his name might have been Joseph? Wasn’t he one of the goalies? Remember we went on that one date where I ended up leaving because he looked at the check and handed it to me and said, ‘can you cover this?’”

“No, not then. You said you got asked out that night, too. What do you mean, ‘too?’”

Maddy and Fran look at each other, nervous, passing the soda to Emeline. “Oh, Jeremy asked me out before we left.” 

Emeline tries to hide her shock as she nearly chokes on the drink, the carbonation burning her throat and making her eyes water. “Oh, that’s great,” she chokes out in the most unconvincing way, trying to clear her throat. “When? Um, what are you guys going to do?”

Fran shrugs, Maddy leading the two of them to their seats. “I think we’re going on Friday? It’s the last night before they leave for the midwest on a road trip, or something. I don’t know, I haven’t been on an actual date in so long, and he’s hot, so I figured, why not?”Emeline sits down, Fran and Maddy starting to try to figure out what the actual rules of the game were so they could at least pretend they knew what was going on. They already had a game plan to cheer when everyone else did and yell at the refs when everyone else did,what more did they need to do? Emeline was barely paying attention, only overhearing that there are less players on the ice than there are on the field in lacrosse. She couldn’t focus.

Jeremy and Fran were going to go on a date on Friday night. There’s no reason why this should be bothering Emeline as much as it was, taking her already shitty day and somehow making it worse. She was happily dating Keelan. Who Fran dated shouldn’t matter unless he was an asshole and hurt her in anyway. Who Jeremy dated definitely shouldn’t bother her, point blank, period.

They were both her friends. That’s it.

[2demondogs]

Hey! If you are still accepting requests, could you possibly do some Charles and Lenny friendship headcanons or one shot? An underrated duo

I am :D This was fun to write! A true "we are not enemies but I don't fw your vibes" to "excuse me Charles did not want pickles on his burger" arc.

Everyone does the LENNYYY joke but anytime I read his name I can only hear this one lyric I misheard as "KENNY!" from I Know You're Fucking Someone Else. (Worst discovery ever: it's "hickey.")

Their horses were friends first. Taima can chill with the best of them, and Maggie is much more reserved than her owner. They drift off now and then from the others to eat grass together. And ain't that darnedest thing? Charles thinks Taima is a decent judge of character, and that how well a man takes care of his horse says a lot about him. Otherwise, he'd probably not have entertained Lenny for very long.

It is a struggle to get to know one another. That first wall is always the toughest to tear a hole in with someone as reserved as Charles, so Lenny doesn't stop trying. He sees how the man gets along with Arthur and John, and he wants at least a hello out of him now and then, too. He also prefers to be on good terms with people, and he suspects Charles despises him for some reason he can't grasp. Unfortunately, he just kinda looks like he hates everyone. (Charles also isn't too fond of him, but that's besides the point.)

After the first genuine conversation, things get smoother. It was pure luck catching Charles on a chatty day — meaning he nodded a greeting instead of ignoring him — in which everything seemed to be going wrong within camp. Though he usually remains optimistic and lighthearted, Lenny's serious side is much more Charles' speed. They have a good talk about where things are going and where they've been, why exactly Miss Grimshaw is like that, why Swanson is like that, and where all the money in the world seems to go.

They're more like brothers than friends, and Lenny's age shows often, if you ask Charles. Every time they speak, he's shooting down some big idea or fighting for his life to understand a joke. It's tiring, but, well... it's Lenny. He isn't sure how or when he got to the point of dismissing things as that's just Lenny, but he's starting to feel a little protective of him. Worse, sometimes he feels proud to see him pulling off the stunts he does for the gang.

Lenny's youth does show, truthfully. Fresh off his teenage years, he's done believing that he has his head sorted out. Usually, he ends up talking to Hosea about worries like his future. Charles' general, on-the-surface apathy (read: fear) towards that big question is put in jeopardy any time the subject comes up, whether it's because something's happened or just an occasional nineteen-year-old crisis. After a few awkward trail offs, he finally admits he doesn't know what the Hell he's doing either, and Lenny feels infinitely better that he's not the only one. Without realizing it, he'd started looking up to Charles. Which, of course, he's going to balance out by poking him with a proverbial stick later. Or maybe a real one.

The first time Lenny goes hunting with Charles, the rest of their respect for one another falls into place. He pays attention and does it well, which shocks Charles a little despite his increasingly positive opinions of him. He's a fast learner, and he actually gives a damn about listening to him despite all the teasing he does day-to-day. Lenny finds himself enjoying getting more than a few sentences out of Charles, especially over a skill he takes pride in.

[gangles-toybox]

I'm very...intrigued by a lot of ships. I broke the adult circle down by color so it's easier to read and maybe some explanations along the way below the cut. Oh btw the ships with purple w/hints of yellow just means I find them interesting to disect like lab creatures more than "uwu they're so cute!!!" like how I am with other ships fyi

Ok here, I'll try to explain why I ship/am intrugied by some of the more..rarer pair ones here!

First up: Kiddos

Joe x Christina- I don't know I just thought it would be cute, especially with how sour Joe is and how especially sweet Christina is :)

Doughy x Christina- I like this both genuniely and for angst. Genuniely, I like the idea of Doughy comforting Christina. Angst, if after nature Orel did die, I like to think Doughy would subconsciously get w/Christina afterwards to replace him. Or *want* to date Orel, but can't cuz yk moralton and gay ppl don't mix well so he dates Christina as a substitute. Also I like the idea of Christina meeting Doughy for the first time and being like "woa...Orel, who's your friend? he's cute.." gkjlbkjgjbk

Marionetta x Christina- I honestly have no clue why I think they're just cute together...

Tommy x Doughy- They could comfort each other on how they both feel dumb and insignificant and can make each other feel seen!! :]

Tommy x Orel- Idk I like the idea of them hanging out more after God's Blunders and the more time they spend together the closer they feel and the more Orel subconsciously realizes Tommy isn't as dumb as he seems, especially when he starts infodumping about space and science and stuff

Orel x Billy- Idk I like the idea of Orel helping Billy out with the family business after the whole God's Image fiasco to help and apologize! :)

Doughy x Joe- I think they would be interesting together to say the least since Doughy is a complete tool and in the first ep with Joe, he wrecks Karl's car lol. Idk. It would be interesting.Joe x Tommy- Enemies to lovers arc me thinks because I headcanon they wouldn't like each other due to the fact that I think Tommy hates Joe because he reminds him of how mean he was when he was little and Joe hates Tommy because I headcanon that Joe was a lot nicer when he was little, so he hates Tommy for similar reasons. But I dunno..they get closer cuz they're in the same friend group and Joe stops picking on him as much..

Now onto the clusterfuck of the adults!!

Like:

Rod Putty x Mr. Cartsen- I headcanon that these two were college buddies n did a lot of gay shit together. Never officially got together but eh. Oo maybe Mr. Cartsen was Rev's comedy partner he was talking about in that one [AS] sermon abt homosexuality! :D

Love:

Miss Censordoll x Bloberta- Mommy issues go brrr nah but fr idk something about how they are in Help really really speaks to me, Miss Censordoll would manipulate Bloberta in a similar way to Clay since they both have mommy issues methinks.. Miss Censordoll x Mr. Cartsen- Another one based in headcanon!! In my headcanon, after college n all that shit Mr. Cartsen starts hanging out with Miss Censordoll a lot more at the library and eventually takes a part-time job there just to hang out with her and start complimenting her n stuff and, deep, deep down she's very flattered. She loves to pull that tie of his! X)

Intrugied(the longest, probably): oh boy here we go...

Nurse Bendy x Miss Censordoll- Idk why but I think their dynamic could be interesting. no clue why really.

Miss Censordoll x Millie Fakey- did yall SEE how she fucking petted Millie's fake in Help?? There's something going on...

Millie Fakey x Kim Latchkey- Idk I think Kim could help raise Millie's confidence if she wanted to! Although I doubt she would be a good gf if Stephaine is anything to go by...

Kim Latchkey x Roger Papermouth- That man needs a girlboss, and here Kim is!

Art x Poppit- I'm more just curious more than anything on how and if their relationship would be better or worse than Clay and Bloberta's. I assume the same but idk I'm curious

Roger Papermouth x Principal Fakey- I am very curious on how Principal Fakey would handle having an affair w/Roger Papermouth since yk he's a guy and all but Fakey is also really realllyyy desperate probably after Nurse Bendy stands up for herself and leaves him and he doesn't like that so he goes after somebody else that's more easily manipulated, that just so happens to be a guy named Roger. Roger probably doesn't mind too too much, other than being a cop n all and wondering if he would have to arrest himself lol

Poppit Posabule x Stephaine- Just a vibe that Poppit is NAWT straight (I mean I don't think Bloberta is either but I get stronger vibes from Poppit for some reason) ...and maybe Stephaine is the reason, like a girl next door typa thing. Comes into Buried Pleasures just to see her n all.

Stephaine x Bloberta- Similar thing but Bloberta is way less bold. Stephaine comes by to like idk bring Orel somewhere and Bloberta wants to talk to Stephaine before because she does care a little about Orel, plus Stephaine is pierced up and yk how judgy ppl are in Moralton. So she talks to her and she gets a strange..warmness in her chest. Never acknowledges though. Again very girl next door or look but not touch.

Stephaine x Miss Censordoll- Idk the way she called Miss Censordoll a bitch in one of the promos just did something to my neurons. I like the idea of them. 2 girlbosses girlbossing, if you will.

Roger Papermouth x Clay Puppington- Idk I like the fact that Clay took off his hat and put it on during Sacrifice. It's cute.

Roger Papermouth x Dottie Trophywife- If you can't get with your ex-friend's current crush, then why not get with your ex-friend's ex-husband! Again, Roger needs a girlboss to put him in line IMO and Dottie certainly does that, she plays him like a fiddle. She has fun.

Art Posabule x Danielle Stopframe- I'm curious as to whether Danielle would start to notice Art after Honor and would start dating him only because he looks exactly like Art and he might be a bit better of a person. It would feel like a suckerpunch in the gut if Clay ever found out about them tho lol

Poppit Posabule x Danielle Stopframe- Just curious on how they would play out, would they work better or worse than Danielle and Bloberta?

Reverend Putty x Bloberta Puppington- That one scene from Numb. Must I say more?

Reverend Putty x Miss Censordoll- I feel like Miss Censordoll scares the shit out of Reverend Putty and she uses that to her advantage. She puts the malewife in his place lol

[cryolyst]

~

[taiyami]

your mans :3

I'm speechless. My mans........