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uyuforu · 3 months ago

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Your Love Story based on your Juno Persona Chart

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Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Juno, Groom, Briede PC Observations I

જ⁀➴ Groom & Briede PC Observations III

જ⁀➴ Groom/ Briede/ Juno aspects in Natal Chart

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Why Juno Persona Chart?

‧₊˚✩彡 The Juno Persona Chart is a Persona Chart based on the asteroid Juno (3). This asteroid represents our destined love, our future spouse.

‧₊˚✩彡 In the Natal Chart, Juno usually represents our destined love and also FS, and how they play in our life. But sometimes, we just want to know more. In this case, our Juno Persona Chart will be calculated based on the position of Juno in our Natal Chart. And so our Juno PC will be our Juno in Natal Chart but in a more detailed Chart.

‧₊˚✩彡 In this case, we can literally know more with our Juno PC. The most famous signification of a Juno PC is to know more about your Future Spouse, mostly considered as our destined love.

The two sides of Juno Persona Chart

‧₊˚✩彡 As I said, Juno PC will usually say about our Future Spouse, but, as it represents our destined love, this can actually also represent the way we are going to be with our Future Spouse.

‧₊˚✩彡 Of course, this post will be based on my personal observations with people around me. But this is still a theory, and something im still studying.

‧₊˚✩彡 But in most of cases, Juno PC actually express the love story between you and your FS as well. It's going to give you hint about where you will meet and what could happen, and how you will come to Union with your FS.

This post is a theory mostly, and observations based. If the theory happens to be verified often, I'll post a more detailed post with signs, houses and degrees.

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‧₊˚✩彡 Sun in the Juno PC could represent your first impression of your Future Spouse.

‧₊˚ Examples ‧₊˚

✩ Sun 1H: You could have love at first sight for your FS. You could find them very handsome/ pretty when you first see them. You could also find them very passionate, extrovert. ✩ Sun 9H: You could find your FS really smart when you first meet. You could look at them as older than you, or as a mentor, or they could be in an upper position for you if you work or in school. They could have a lot to teach you, and you could admire them somehow. They could also be a foreigner, and you could see them this way. ✩ Sun 4H: Sun here could mean you could feel like your FS is familiar, or they could feel like your home. You could eventually live with your FS. You could think your FS reminds you of a sibling or of a parent, you could also feel incredibly safe with your FS. ✩ Sun 10H: In this position, you could think your FS is someone you respect a lot, someone who works hard, you could also see them as a coworker, or someone well known around you. Your FS could also have a position well know or respected in society, for example, they can be married, so everyone knows their marital status. ✩ Sun 5H: You will feel like your FS is very fun, someone you will have so much fun and laugh with, you'll love their presence, you'll feel like it's easy to feel good with them. You could feel like they are quite popular, and flirty, there is something about them that just draws you to them. You feel like life is good with them, and you may want to spend a lot of time with them.

‧₊˚✩彡 Chiron 4H could mean you'll have a lot of troubles or arguments with your family because of your relationship with your FS. Or at least, there will be a problem with your relationship and your family.

‧₊˚✩彡 It's true that your Rising Sign will tell how you will meet them. It can tell the place but also the circumstances. Ruler of your Rising can say more (Sign & House of the ruler).

‧₊˚ Examples ‧₊˚

✩ Sagittarius Rising: You could meet them in college, or when you are in college. You could also meet them in school or when learning something. My Uncle has this placement, he met his FS when both of them were in College. The Ruler of the Rising is Jupiter, and it falls in the 2H in Aquarius. His FS was one of my mother's best friend, and she become close to their family and he met her in his family. The 2H represents family, and Aquarius represents friendship. ✩ Aquarius Rising: You can meet them online, one dating app, on the internet, you can receive a DM from them. You can meet them in foreign lands, in an airport, or with friends, because of friends. ✩ Virgo Rising: You can meet them at work, while working, they can be a coworker, your boss, or someone you meet at work, so could even be a client. You could meet during a random day, or when taking care of your health. ✩ Gemini Rising: You could meet them online, at school, college, when learning something, library, with friends, in a social circle, in your neighborhood, because of your family, because of your siblings, at a concert, etc.

‧₊˚✩彡 The degree on your Rising can also add details on this first meeting.

‧₊˚✩彡 Uranus can represent what will change in your life after meeting your FS.

‧₊˚ Examples ‧₊˚

✩ Uranus 4H: You could see the idea of family different after meeting your FS, or your idea of home could change. You could also have to change your family situation after meeting your FS, or your home situation. ✩ Uranus 5H: You could change your point of view about children after meeting your FS, you could also change your love life's situation after meeting them. You could end a relationship after meeting them, or you could want to be more serious. Or if you aren't dating anyone, you could want to become more romantic. ✩ Uranus 8H: Your idea of intimacy can change after meeting your FS. You could have had the idea that no one could enter in that zone before, and after meeting them, you could def feel like finally you met someone who understands on another level, and you want to make them enter in your secret world. You could finally see love in sex, without thinking of the act itself. You could want to share secrets with them. ✩ Uranus 12H: You could have a spiritual awakening after meeting your FS, or your beliefs could change after meeting them. You could feel like a cycle ended, and you can also feel more lonely after meeting them, feeling like you are very much attached to them already.

‧₊˚✩彡 Saturn could represent the possible obstacle between you and your FS.

‧₊˚ Examples ‧₊˚

✩ Saturn 5H: If you have children already, you could think this would be a complicated situation, or you could have difficulties to conceive when you meet them. You could also not want children, or you could be too childish when you meet them. One of you could already be in a relationship when you meet. ✩ Saturn 2H: Your ethic could go against this relationship, your values, etc. You could also think one person in the connection doesn't have enough money, or money could be a problem. There is a problem of stability here. You could think one of you is also not stable in their life to be together. This could also translates to not being the right moment when you meet. ✩ Saturn 10H: You could have a reputation problem when you meet your FS, you could been seen in a certain way that doesn't go well with your relationship. You could also be too busy with work. You could feel like your relationships is complicated due to your position in society or at work. You could also have a certain reputation around you that can makes things harder for your FS and you.

‧₊˚✩彡 Union in Scorpio/ 8H could mean you'll be in a secret relationship first.

‧₊˚✩彡 Mars 3H means eventually you'll have miscommunication problems.

‧₊˚✩彡 Mars Aries can mean arguments or fights, or you'll feel angry because of this connection (house could say why).

‧₊˚✩彡 Uranus conjunct Neptune could mean some illusions you had about your life before could suddenly change when you'll meet your FS.

‧₊˚✩彡 Angles seem to be quite important about your first meetings. It can represents different point of view. I'm not exactly sure of what is what right now.

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‧₊˚✩彡 Jupiter could represent what you will gain from this relationship.

‧₊˚ Examples ‧₊˚

✩ Jupiter 2H: You could gain a lot of stability from your relationship with your FS, you could gain money too, success, you could feel prettier or more good looking when being with them. You could gain status, possessions, wealth. This can be a sign of a long term relationship here. ✩ Jupiter 6H: You could gain stability, you could care more about your health, mental health as well. You can feel safe with your FS, you can also be more serious in general in your life. You could become more busy, but you could just be more responsible. This can be a sign of a long term relationship as well.

‧₊˚✩彡 Venus or Juno conjunct North Node there could mean meeting your FS will both help you fulfill your purpose, and this could be destiny.

‧₊˚✩彡 8H Venus could mean you'll have a secret crush, or you'll be secretly in love, trying to hide your feelings to this person.

‧₊˚✩彡 9H/ 12H stelliums can mean most of your story can happen in foreign lands.

‧₊˚✩彡 4H/ 6H stelliums can mean you'll feel the most comfortable with this person, you'll never want to leave their side.

‧₊˚✩彡 Groom/ Briede in this chart can tell us what each person of the couples do when you meet each other.

For example, I have Briede 12H in this chart, and I traveled when I met my FS. My Briede conjunct my Uranus and we met online first. My Groom is in my 7H, and ruler of the 7H is in 9H, my FS traveled as well in the same place to attend a wedding.

‧₊˚✩彡 Sun can also give us more hints about how you meet, sign and house of course.

‧₊˚✩彡 Juno on the contrary can tell us how you begin your romantic relationship.

‧₊˚✩彡 Juno conjunct Pluto can mean you'll take a long time, or longer than what you thought, to enter in a relationship.

‧₊˚✩彡 Juno conjunct/ sextile/ trine Jupiter can mean you'll recognize your FS as your future spouse when you'll meet. You'll sense or just totally know you'll marry them even on the 1st meeting.

‧₊˚✩彡 Venus could say what are your feelings towards your FS when you meet them, or what you like about them when you meet.

Thank you for reading!

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ethereangel222 · 3 months ago

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all yours (part ii)

part i | part iii premise Three friends—Nicholas, Cooper, and the Y/N—find their casual friendship evolving into something deeper as playful competition for attention gives way to mutual attraction. (prequel)

cw no warnings. fluff, fluff and fluff. wc 3.7k a/n part 2 request from @urdreamgirl12! i'm very tempted to write some filthy smut for part iii. ugh, i love these two men sm.

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

PART II

You met Cooper during your second semester, in a philosophy class that felt endless with heavy readings and dense discussions. He sat a couple of seats away from you, friendly but reserved, always polite with a small nod when you arrived. He wasn’t the type to dominate conversations or draw attention to himself, but he was approachable, and something about his calm presence made you want to know him better.

One morning after class, you both ended up walking in the same direction, and that’s when it started. “Is it just me, or does Plato make everything sound five times more complicated than it needs to be?” you joked, glancing over at him.

Cooper smiled, a quiet laugh escaping him. “No, it’s not just you. Sometimes I feel like I understand less the more I read.”

That was it — the first real conversation, but it flowed so naturally that by the time you reached the café, you had fallen into an easy rhythm. You grabbed coffee together, and for the first time, you got to see more of him. He had this dry humor that came out when you least expected it, paired with a thoughtful way of speaking that made you want to listen.

As the weeks went on, meeting after class became a routine. You’d walk together, sometimes study or grab coffee. He wasn’t shy but more of an observer, preferring to listen before diving into a conversation. Cooper had a quiet confidence about him, and his steady presence quickly became something you looked forward to. He didn’t push, didn’t fill the silence unnecessarily, but when he spoke, it was always with intention.

Over time, though, you started noticing something more. The way his hand brushed against yours when you walked, the way his eyes lingered just a moment longer than usual. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but the tension was there, simmering quietly between you. Neither of you said anything about it, but it hung in the air during your coffee breaks and quiet study sessions, growing slowly, waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.

You met Nicholas at a party, one of those loud, crowded events where you felt out of place. You were standing by the drinks table, considering an early exit, when he appeared next to you with a grin that immediately caught your attention.

“You look like you’re planning your escape,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes bright with amusement.

You smirked, surprised by how easily he picked up on your mood. “Maybe I am.”

Nicholas chuckled, pouring himself a drink. “Tell you what, stay a little longer. I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

From that moment, the night changed. Nicholas was magnetic, the kind of guy who drew everyone in with his confidence and energy. He kept you laughing, making the party feel less overwhelming and more fun, but it wasn’t just his charm that grabbed you. There was something more, a tension that simmered just beneath the surface. The way he stood close to you, his arm brushing against yours as he talked, the way his gaze would linger on your lips for a fraction too long.

At one point, he leaned in. “Still thinking about leaving?” he teases.

You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His proximity made it hard to think straight, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him.

“Not anymore,” you replied softly, and Nicholas’ grin widened, satisfied.

As the night wore on, that tension only grew. Nicholas would find reasons to touch you, a hand on your shoulder or a brush of his fingers against your arm, each time lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken. He wasn’t subtle about his interest, and by the time you left the party, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he made you feel, that electric pull between you, always on the verge of something more.

After that night, Nicholas started popping up in your life more often. He’d text you out of the blue, always with that same playful, flirty energy, and every time you hung out, the tension was there, hanging between you, building with every lingering touch and every teasing remark. It was undeniable, and you both knew it was only a matter of time before one of you acted on it.

The first time Nicholas and Cooper met wasn’t exactly planned. You were in the middle of one of your usual study sessions with Cooper at the campus library. It was the kind of comfortable, quiet work you’d come to expect with him, both of you buried in your notes, exchanging a few words now and then.

Then you received a text from Nicholas. Outside. Coming in.

Before you could even respond, Nicholas appeared, striding through the library. He caught your eye and grinned, waving. “Hey! Thought I’d find you here.”

You smiled, a little surprised, and glanced at Cooper, who looked up from his book, brow furrowing slightly as Nicholas dropped into the chair across from you. “How’s the study session going?”

“It’s going well,” you replied, a little unsure. “We’ve still got a lot to cover.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow at the stack of books, his face scrunching in mock horror. “Philosophy, huh? You guys need a break. How about I grab us some food? I saw a food truck outside.”

Cooper glanced up from his notes, his response calm but firm. “We’re kind of in the middle of things. Maybe later.”

There was a brief silence. Nicholas, not one to be brushed off easily, looked between you and Cooper, clearly not used to being put on hold. He leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk on his face, but you could sense something else behind it. “Ah, I see. Important stuff.”

Cooper didn’t rise to the bait, simply nodding and returning to his notes. But the tension wasn’t lost on you. Nicholas wasn’t used to being sidelined, and Cooper had this quiet confidence that made it clear he wasn’t going to be swayed by Nicholas’ usual charm.

But Nicholas, in his typical style, didn’t let it go. “Tell you what,” he said, standing up, “I’ll grab the food and bring it back. No distractions, I promise. Just sustenance. You keep doing your thing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Nicholas flashed a wink and walked off, leaving you and Cooper in a moment of quiet. You looked over at Cooper, a little apologetic. “I didn’t think he was coming.”

Cooper smiled, a hint of amusement softening his features. “It’s fine. He seems... alright.”

When Nicholas came back, he laid out the food with a grin, true to his word about keeping things low-key. “Alright, food’s here. No distractions,” he said, though his tone carried the usual playful edge.

Cooper gave him a polite nod, accepting the food, though you noticed the dynamic was a bit different now. Nicholas didn’t press as hard this time. He didn’t dominate the conversation like he usually did. Instead, he leaned back, eating his food quietly, stealing occasional glances at Cooper, who seemed focused on his work but not entirely indifferent to Nicholas’ presence.

There was a shift, small but there. Nicholas vseemed to be sizing Cooper up but not in a competitive way anymore. More like he was curious. He was beginning to see that Cooper wasn’t just some guy who kept to himself. He was steady, thoughtful, and sure of himself in a way that Nicholas wasn’t used to. It seemed like Nicholas was… warming up to him.

As the three of you sat there, the tension seemed to ease. Nicholas leaned forward, making a casual comment about the food, and for the first time, Cooper cracked a small smile in response. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Nicholas to lean back, satisfied, a flicker of something like respect in his eyes.

And for the first time, you thought maybe Cooper was starting to grow on him.

It started innocently enough. You, Nicholas, and Cooper would occasionally run into each other between classes or grab coffee after a long day. At first, it was casual — just friends with overlapping schedules and shared interests. But somewhere along the way, the three of you fell into an unspoken rhythm, a routine that pulled you together more frequently, more naturally. What began as study sessions and movie nights turned into something else, though none of you would admit it just yet.

At first, it was Nicholas who was most obvious about vying for your attention. He’d flash that easy grin, leaning in just a little too close whenever he talked, as though he couldn’t resist testing the boundaries between friendship and something more. He was the type to drape his arm casually over your shoulders, always finding some excuse to be close, his presence hard to ignore.

"Don’t look so serious," he’d tease whenever he caught you focusing too hard during study sessions. "You’re gonna scare off all your brain cells."

You’d roll your eyes, but the warmth of his teasing made you smile every time. And you weren’t the only one who noticed. Cooper, who was more laid-back and less showy, started to subtly mirror Nicholas’ actions, not as overtly, but in his own way. He’d lean forward during conversations, his gaze lingering on you, his voice soft and steady when he spoke. His touches were fewer, but each one was deliberate. If Nicholas was the one to throw playful jabs, Cooper was the one whose quiet support always felt reassuring.

You started to notice it more during your meet-ups: the way they seemed to compete for your attention. Nicholas was always quick to crack a joke, to make you laugh, while Cooper played the calm counterbalance, offering a deeper, more thoughtful presence. If Nicholas made a playful comment, Cooper would find a way to steer the conversation back to something meaningful, as if they were both trying to prove who could hold your interest more.

At first, it felt like a game, like they were challenging each other for who could make you smile, who could capture your focus. There were subtle moments when Nicholas would lean in closer, resting his hand on your knee while Cooper’s eyes followed the movement, his jaw tightening slightly before he’d distract you with a clever remark. If you were caught between them, they seemed equally caught in the tug-of-war over who could win your attention first.

But then, something shifted.

It happened slowly, almost without you noticing. Nicholas and Cooper still vied for your attention, but there were moments when their competitiveness gave way to something more playful between them. You’d catch them exchanging glances when they thought you weren’t looking, a shared look of amusement when one of them made you laugh.

One evening, the three of you were sitting at the campus café after a long day of classes. Nicholas had shown up as usual, sliding into the booth next to you and draping his arm casually over the back of your seat. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered something teasing about the way you held your coffee.

"You’re gripping that cup like it’s about to run away," he murmured, smirking. "Relax a little."

Before you could respond, Cooper arrived, sliding into the seat across from you. He raised an eyebrow at Nicholas’ proximity, but instead of making a comment to you, he glanced at Nicholas. "You know, if you leaned in any closer, people might think you two are dating.”

Nicholas didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back slightly, shooting Cooper a playful look. "What, jealous?"

Cooper smirked, his eyes meeting Nicholas’ in a way that felt different from their usual banter. "Maybe."

It was subtle, the way the tension between them shifted in that moment. What used to feel like a competition for your attention started to feel like they were both enjoying the game, not just with you, but with each other.

Later, back at Nicholas’ apartment for one of your usual movie nights, the energy felt different. You were sandwiched between them on the couch, Nicholas on one side, his arm draped over your shoulders as usual, and Cooper on the other, his knee pressing lightly against yours. The playful banter between them continued, but now, there were small moments where they’d brush against each other, not entirely by accident.

Nicholas would reach over you to grab a drink from the coffee table, letting his arm graze Cooper’s shoulder in the process. Cooper, instead of pulling away, would give Nicholas a slight nudge back, the touch lingering for just a moment before he returned his focus to you. It was subtle, but the shift in their dynamic was unmistakable — they were no longer just competing for your attention. They were starting to acknowledge each other, too.

"You two always this competitive?" you asked, half-joking but genuinely curious as their banter intensified. It was hard to miss the way Nicholas had leaned closer to Cooper over the course of the night, his usual teasing now directed toward both of you.

Nicholas grinned. "Who says we’re competing?"

Cooper chuckled, his gaze flicking to Nicholas briefly before settling back on you. "Yeah, I think we’re just… focused."

You smirked, feeling the tension between them and the way it pulled you right into the center. "Focused on what, exactly?"

Nicholas’ hand brushed lightly against your arm, but then, just as quickly, it slid down, his fingers brushing against Cooper’s shoulder before pulling away. The touch was light, playful, but enough to send a charge through the air. "On making sure you don’t get bored, obviously."

Cooper’s knee nudged yours under the blanket. "We wouldn’t want that."

You could feel the heat rising between the three of you, the subtle flirting no longer so subtle. Their casual touches now lingered longer, their glances shared not just with you, but with each other. Nicholas would throw a teasing comment your way, but his eyes would flick to Cooper afterward, almost daring him to respond. And Cooper, no longer holding back, would meet Nicholas’ gaze head-on, a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

As the night went on, the dynamics between the three of you shifted even further. Nicholas and Cooper still vied for your attention, but now, there was a clear acknowledgment of the tension between them as well. The casual touches between them grew more frequent, their shared looks more deliberate. It was no longer just a competition for you — it was a slow, teasing flirtation between them, too.

You were still caught in the middle, but now it felt like you weren’t the only one they were trying to win over. They had started to notice each other, and with every touch, every lingering glance, it became clearer: the three of you were connected in a way none of you had fully realized before.

It was bound to come to a head eventually. You, Nicholas, and Cooper had been dancing around each other for weeks, the tension between the three of you growing more obvious with every lingering glance, every touch that stayed just a little too long. But no one had said anything. It was as if you were all waiting for the right moment — or maybe for someone else to break the silence first.

That moment came at a house party, one of those weekend gatherings where the music was too loud, and the rooms were crowded with people looking for an excuse to let loose. You had arrived together, as usual, slipping into the familiar pattern of moving through the party as a trio, but tonight was different. There was a lightness in the air, a sense of release that came with letting go after a long week. People were packed into every area of the house, the thump of music vibrating through the floor, the smell of beer and laughter filling the space.

You started the night casually enough, playing beer pong with a few others in the kitchen. where the competition quickly ramped up. Nicholas, predictably, was cocky as ever, making a show of his "perfect aim."

"Watch this," he said with a wink, aiming the ping-pong ball at the last cup. He missed completely, and the ball bounced off the counter, rolling under the table.

You burst out laughing, your head swimming with the alcohol and the absurdity of the night. "Perfect aim, huh?"

Nicholas shrugged, unbothered. "It’s all part of the strategy. Keep the competition guessing."

Cooper chuckled, shaking his head. "If that’s your strategy, it’s a terrible one."

The banter flowed easily between the three of you, as it always did, but tonight there was an extra layer of warmth, the kind that came from the alcohol already making its way into your system. Your head felt a little lighter, your movements a little slower, as the drinks started to settle in. Nicholas had been handing you drinks all night, always making sure your cup was full, and Cooper had been quietly keeping pace, his eyes flicking between you and Nicholas.

After a few rounds of beer games, you were feeling the full effects of the drinks. Your body was warm, your cheeks flushed, and everything seemed funnier, lighter. The three of you were leaning against each other, laughing at nothing in particular, your head resting against Nicholas’ shoulder as Cooper stood close by, his arm brushing against yours every so often.

It wasn’t long before you needed a break from the noise, the heat of the house starting to feel overwhelming. You slipped away from the crowd, wandering through the hallway until you found a quiet, secluded corner near the back of the house. The music was still loud, but it was muffled here, the chaos of the party fading into the background as you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt someone approaching. You opened your eyes to see Nicholas standing in front of you, a lazy grin on his face as he leaned one hand against the wall next to you. "Escaping already?"

Before you could answer, Cooper appeared on your other side, his presence quieter but just as steady. His gaze was soft, but there was a heat behind his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. "You didn’t think we’d let you disappear on us, did you?"

You smiled, feeling a sudden rush of warmth at the sight of both of them, standing so close, their attention entirely focused on you. "Just needed a breather."

Nicholas chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he leaned in closer, his voice low. "You sure you weren’t trying to ditch us?"

The way his breath tickled your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but glance at Cooper, who was watching you closely. His hand found your waist, his touch gentle but deliberate, "We’ve been following you all night, you know."

Your heart thudded in your chest, the alcohol blurring the lines of everything but the tension that crackled between the three of you. It felt like the air had shifted, like this small corner of the house had become its own world — one where the only thing that mattered was what happened next.

Nicholas’ fingers slid up your arm, his touch light and teasing as he leaned in even closer. "So… what now?"

Cooper’s hand tightened slightly on your waist, his body heat pressing against you from the other side as he waited for your answer. The room felt like it was spinning, not from the alcohol, but from the way their presence wrapped around you, pulling you into a moment you knew had been building for weeks.

"I think… I think we need to talk about this. About us."

Nicholas’ eyes gleamed with a mixture of playfulness and something deeper. His hand lingered on your arm as he glanced over at Cooper. "Yeah, I think it’s about time we do."

Cooper’s fingers brushed softly against your side, his gaze steady but serious. "We’ve been dancing around this for a while, haven’t we?"

You nodded, feeling both of their attention on you, making your pulse race. "It feels like… more than just friendship. With both of you. And I know you’ve felt it too."

Nicholas chuckled softly, his hand slipping to the small of your back as he pulled you just a little closer. "Oh, we’ve felt it. We’ve definitely felt it."

Cooper’s hand tightened on your waist, his tone calm but clear. "But we need to be sure. We need to be on the same page."

You exhaled a shaky breath, glancing between them. "I don’t know exactly what this is yet, but… I want to figure it out. With both of you."

Nicholas’ grin softened, his thumb brushing against the small of your back. "Good. Because I’m all in."

Cooper’s hand slid from your waist to your hand, fingers intertwining with yours. "Me too," he said quietly, his eyes locking with yours, then flicking to Nicholas. "We’re in this together."

Nicholas’ hand slipped up to your jaw, gently turning your face toward his. The grin that was usually playful now softened, his eyes intense as they searched yours. Without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything that had gone unsaid between the three of you.

The kiss sent a wave of heat through your body, and for a moment, it was just you and Nicholas, the weight of his hand on your back, the warmth of his lips pulling you deeper into the moment.

When he pulled away, your breath caught, and before you could process the rush of emotions, you felt Cooper’s hand gently guiding your face toward him. His kiss was different — softer, more tentative, but no less charged. His lips moved against yours with a quiet intensity, as if he had been holding back for too long and now couldn’t stop himself.

The contrast between them was intoxicating, Nicholas’ fiery energy and Cooper’s gentle steadiness blending together, both of them focused entirely on you. When Cooper pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"So," Nicholas murmured, his voice low and teasing, "are we done pretending now?"

You smiled, breathless and caught between them, feeling like the missing pieces had finally clicked into place. "Yeah," you whispered, your heart pounding. "No more pretending."

#cooper koch #nicholas alexander chavez #cooper koch fanfic #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #cooper koch x reader #cooper koch imagine #nicholas chavez #writing

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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.”

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.”

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice, he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments.

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else.

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve.

“No. Don’t worry about it.”

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him.

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?”

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using.

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Well obviously something’s wrong.”

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?”

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?”

“I’m not upset!”

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-”

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him.

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon.

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be.

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?”

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins.

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time.

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you.

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-”

“I didn’t get in.”

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke.

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock.

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?”

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!”

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has.

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand.

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation.

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say.

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?”

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds.

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?”

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.”

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive.

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest.

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to.

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear.

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you.

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you.

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed.

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?”

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving.

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.”

“Where?”

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace.

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.”

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for.

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified.

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.”

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home.

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers.

“You promise you’ll come home, right?”

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too.

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness.

“Anything.”

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.”

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did.

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.”

Frankie, Present

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point.

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings.

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you.

Well, he can’t think about you as much.

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him.

He let you take the first shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run.

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you.

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!”

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.”

“You barely run the mile in gym class.”

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.”

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you.

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to.

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans.

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day.

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement.

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.”

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings.

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.”

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.”

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.”

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).”

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past.

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible.

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him.

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer.

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school.

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too.

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school.

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble.

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed.

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to.

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him.

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage.

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment.

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him.

August 18th, 2006

Frankie,

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage.

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL.

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person!

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha).

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo.

From,

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line.

October 13th, 2009

Frankie,

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe.

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet.

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do.

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie.

Kenzie

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong.

February 4th, 2011

Hey,

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways.

I guess I’ll see you when I see you.

MacKenzie

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business.

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull.

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done?

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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lazycats-stuff · 11 months ago

Note

Artist toddler batbro! Can't help but draw/ paint at least once a day and at the end of the day batfam is anticipating who will be the lucky family member that'll receive which ever art piece their youngest has created that day (sometimes the art piece is on the walls or floor of the mansion but no one has the heart to be angry when little batbro is just proudly presenting his art)

Toddler batbro *leaves a paint covered tiny handprint on the wall*

Bruce: alfred, frame that

Oh my, that's cute. Oh my God... Aww. Also, I know it's short, but this is all my inspiration is willing to give at this moment. Next time, I'll try to write more.

Summary: (Y/N) is an artist.

Warnings: None, really fluffy

Every child has a talent. Whether that be in sports or arts, every child has a hidden talent for something. Even if some kids are average, there is nothing wrong with it. Bruce, amongst his four older sons, had a toddler. Yes, a toddler.

How did it happen?

A one night stand. The mom couldn't take care of (Y/N) and Bruce took him in and the other 4 accepted (Y/N) as if he was their blood brother and Bruce was grateful that they did it. Of course, they had to change their schedules to accommodate to make sure that (Y/N) was a priority. Of course, no one minded to do that.

And speak of talents? While his four older sons had their own specialties. Damian had his knowledge of blades and martial arts, Tim for his hacking and detective skills, Jason for his accuracy with guns and other firearms and Dick with his acrobatic skills.

(Y/N) was an artistic child. He didn't show it at first, but as he got more comfortable, he started asking for paper and crayons. Crayons slowly evolved into something more and (Y/N) would draw daily. It could be anything. It could be a couch or even Titus. Maybe it would be one of the boys too.

And, at the moment, there was a big honor in the house. What that honor may be? (Y/N) handing you his own artwork. It became a tradition and sort of a competition between everyone. Everyone wanted to see what (Y/N) has created that day.

It was considered the biggest honor in the manor, to get a piece of paper, created by (Y/N). It makes everyone's day when they get an artwork. Dick nearly cried. Damian was close to crying too. Alfred and Bruce got one too and the two grown men, who have seen stuff... Safe to say, they nearly broke down into tears and shambles.

Nearly.

But there was a one problem in this entire story. (Y/N) wouldn't limit himself to drawing on paper. Oh no. Many parents would punish the child if the child drew on the walls or floor. Right? Well... Not if you are (Y/N) Wayne who is clearly artistically talented.

(Y/N) would often draw whenever he could, even if that meant on the wall or the floor. And whoever saw (Y/N) drawing on the floor or the wall, didn't have a heart to even yell or be remotely angry, especially since (Y/N) had that shine in his eyes when he was showing them their art.

Bruce wasn't supposed allow (Y/N) to paint over the walls or the floor. That's what Bruce was supposed to correct. A correct thing to do... Right? Well, Bruce didn't know. Parenting doesn't have a book and a set of rules, but Bruce wished he had some sort of rules so he could solve this.

He can keep on dreaming when it comes to universal rules for a perfect parenting style.

But he has actually decided what he was going to do, without a doubt. (Y/N) was allowed to doddle and draw wherever he wanted. That was something that was relayed to all the other members, whoever, they put certain restrictions.

No drawing in their rooms without supervision. Bruce's study was also off limits if there is no supervision. And only at home is doodling and drawing allowed.

Because Bruce is just ready to frame it all. Alfred already has frames ready to go.

It was always fun.

As of now, (Y/N) was doodling on the wall, just sitting on the floor, without a care in the world. Bruce and Alfred were walking by, stopping when they saw (Y/N) drawing. This time, it was just a simple handprint.

Bruce was smiling and instructed (Y/N) to go wash his hands and then eat. Bruce and Alfred looked at the handprint on the wall.

" Alfred, frame that. " Bruce said and Alfred did just that. Took out a frame and made sure that handprint was framed. And it looked adorable.

" He is growing up too quickly, Master Bruce. " Alfred said said as he looked at the little handprint.

" I agree Alfred. " Bruce said sadly.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader

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hisui-dreamer · 11 months ago

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omg omg !! HAPPY 2K RINNA <3 i’m so so proud of u and u deserve everything 💗 the event looks so fun hehe YOU ALRKEUADY JNIW WHI IN GONNANS ASK FOR

i really really love tulips so could i ask for lilia and tulips please? its meaning is perfect and deep love hehe CHEWS YOUR WALLS

good luck with your assignments and take all the time you need !! i love you and miss you mwahh

a crown befitting of you

Pairing: Lilia Vanrouge x gn!reader

Synopsis: his feelings had grown so subtly, so steadily, that he had not realised at all

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, reader eats lilia's food omg

Word count: 783

Notes: mil mil my favourite person ever!!💕💕💕 thank you so much ill work hard on my assignments 🫡 i hope you enjoy lilia hehehe >∪<

Masterlist

flower of choice: tulip

tulips are commonly asosciated with perfect and deep love.

Looking back, Lilia vividly remembers the day you arrived in Twisted Wonderland. Amidst the grand spectacle of the entrance ceremony, particularly with Grim's frantic attempts to avoid being captured, there was something about you that captured his attention. Maybe it was the distinct curiosity shining in your eyes, navigating through an entirely foreign world with a blend of composure and uncertainty. Whatever it was, he found himself wanting to reach out and make you feel welcome.

He started looking out for you without even realizing it. He began with small gestures, like offering help with your studies when he found you hunched over a book in the library or popping down from the ceiling to help you find a classroom. He enjoyed seeing your smile brighten whenever you grasped a new concept or conquered a challenge. It felt good to be there for you, to share his experiences and insights.

As time went on, your interactions blossomed into a regular occurrence. Hours seemed to melt away as you engaged in conversations about anything and everything, exchanging stories of your homeland and experiences while he eagerly recounted his adventures from various countries. Among the students, you were the only one to actively praise his cooking, willingly joining him in the kitchen. These shared moments became cherished moments for Lilia, feeling a connection forming between you that he couldn't quite explain.

But it wasn't until much later that he realized the true depth of his feelings. They had silently amassed over time, creeping up on him when he least expected it. Suddenly, he found myself thinking about you all the time, wondering how you were and yearning to see your smile once more.

Just as his thoughts drifted to you, a familiar laughter dances through the air, drawing his attention. Turning towards its source, he finds himself captivated by the scene unfolding before him. The sun bathes the school courtyard in a radiant golden hue, casting a warm, inviting glow upon everything it touches. There you are, seated on the grass with legs crossed, skillfully weaving delicate tulip flowers into a crown.

Curiosity piqued, he approaches quietly, not wanting to interrupt your moment of concentration. As he draws nearer, you glance up, your eyes shimmering with delight and a mischievous grin playing upon your lips.

"Lilia!" you exclaim, a hint of surprise colouring your tone. "What perfect timing! I've made something for you."

With a graceful flourish, you hold up the tulip flower crown, presenting it as if it were a priceless gem. Each vibrant petal seems to shimmer and sway in the sunlight, casting a spell of enchantment over the surroundings. The delicate blooms, ranging in hues from deep crimson to soft pastel pink, are meticulously arranged in a circular formation, creating a majestic crown fit for royalty.

"You made this for me?" he asks, a wry grin on his face. He can't help but think it suits you far better.

"Of course!" You reply, your grin widening. "Don’t you think it’ll enhance your cuteness?"

A huff of laughter escapes him as you delicately place the crown upon his head, adjusting it until it sits just right. He can't help but feel a rush of affection towards you, grateful for your kindness and the undeniable warmth you bring into his life.

As you step back to admire your handiwork, your gaze meets his, and time seems to stand still. He finds himself entranced by the sparkle in your eyes, the way your smile reaches all the way to your soul.

It is then, with the sun kissing your skin and the scent of tulips filling the air, that he realises just how deeply he cares for you. In your laughter, in your playful gestures, he found a love he hadn't known existed, a love that filled him with a warmth unlike anything he'd ever felt before. And as he looks into your eyes, his own heart overflowing with emotion, he knows that he has fallen completely, utterly in love.

"Rather than me," he begins, lifting the flower crown from his head and gently placing it upon yours. "I believe it enhances your cuteness far more effectively."

He watches with rapt attention as a delicate flush blossoms across your cheeks, like the soft petals of a rose responding to the morning sun. The warmth of embarrassment paints your features with a gentle hue, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to your already captivating presence. In that moment, your eyes widen slightly, reflecting a mixture of surprise and affection, like sparkling jewels illuminated by a ray of sunlight.

Truly, the deepest of loves.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#✧2k! blossoming bouquets✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge x mc #twst lilia vanrouge #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia x reader #✧millie🪭✦

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kissagii · 7 months ago

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it's finals season, and nishinoya desperately needs a savior

cw: gender neutral reader, 2k words, reader is a bit of a nerd and noya is smitten, both are a little dense, i didn't proofread this nearly enough.

Nishinoya Yuu cannot fail high school. At least, not if he wants to go to the Tokyo training camp and meet the funny guys from Nekoma again. As it stands, the only obstacles between Noya and going to camp are the steadily approaching final exams - exams that he hasn’t spent nearly enough time studying for.

That’s how he found himself here: not-so-casually asking (read: begging) for help studying.

“But I can’t fail these exams!” He half-yells, smacking his hands dramatically onto your desk, “I’m too cool to fail! And I want to go to camp!”

You sigh, not thrilled to have the libero drawing so much attention to you, especially in the middle of the school day. But his pleas are pitiful - and bound to get annoying if left unanswered for too long - so your only real option is to offer whatever assistance he needs.

“Sure, I’ve got time, what do you need?” You offer, hoping desperately that you sound relatively nonchalant. You had grown fond of him as first-year classmates, and now being in separate classes made any opportunity to spend time with him one worth taking. Even if it ended in studying with Nishinoya Yuu, a man not exactly known for being studious. Loudness aside, he's a good guy: caring (at times overbearingly so), observant (but never when he needs to be), and unendingly passionate about his interests (and very little else). And undeniably attractive, though you’d never tell him that. It would go straight to his head.

His face lights up as soon as the offer is made. “You’re amazing! An angel sent from the heavens to help me go to camp!”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, now what subjects are giving you the most trouble?” You say, heart fluttering at the subtle words of appreciation.

“Math. And physics, but that’s basically just math but more evil. Oh, and English. And history. And writing.” His expression shifts from joy to a pout with each subject, brows knitting together as he realizes just how inept (and uncool, he’s probably thinking) he is.

“Noya, you just listed every subject, that’s way too much,” You laugh, “But I’ll see what I can do. Give me a day to prepare?”

“Just try not to miss me too much!” Noya says as he jumps excitedly, waving to you as he walks backward out of the room. He waves the entire way until he walks back-first into the doorframe, letting out a squawk of surprise and continuing proudly like nothing ever happened.

This boy is going to be the death of you.

Exactly 24 hours after his first visit, Noya bounds into your classroom and over to your desk again. Despite expecting his visit this time, you’re caught off guard by his punctuality and higher-than-usual energy.

“It is I, Nishinoya Yuu, Guardian Deity of Karasuno!” He announces, dropping into a neighboring desk.

“Yeah, I know that, Noya.”

“Hmph, but it’s more fun to do that,” He huffs, poking at the papers you have lined up on your desk, “What’s all this? For me?”

You stack up all the papers, creating a thick packet, and hand them to him. He loses interest the moment he realizes that the ridiculous-looking stack is indeed for him, mortified by the concept of having to do all of that. He pays minimal attention as you explain everything he’s supposed to do - something about the order of the subjects versus the tests, the problem difficulties, and suggested pacing - instead choosing to focus on something far more interesting.

The way certain subjects make your eyes light up more than others. The way you tilt your body to face him as you talk. The way your lips move with each word. How much he wishes he could grab your face and kiss you.

And, ultimately, that which brings his attention back - the reward system. Your method of motivating him to put effort into his practice.

“The rewards are indicated with symbols, the key is at the back, and you don’t have to take any reward you don’t want. I’ll be here to check your work and help you with the harder ones, does that sound good? Oh, and no getting answers from your teammates. You’ll only get prizes for your own work.”

“All this? really? These rewards better be good,” He sticks out his bottom lip, thumbing the papers, itching to flip straight to the back and see what he might have a chance at acquiring.

You laugh, shooing him out of the chair he sits in, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ll like one or two of them. Now go get working, deal with your prizes when you have an actual chance at earning them.”

“Hey! At least let me try to get motivated!” He whines, making a point to struggle to carry the twenty-or-so pages in his hands, “I might never forgive you for this!”

Though he acts offended, the moment he’s out of your sight his posture straightens and he hurries to his classroom. Only there does he set down the papers and fumble to the back, finding the Prize Key at the very end.

♤ - 1 sticker (assorted themes)

Who do you think he is? A first grader? Though he has to admit, the concept is cute.

♧ - Snack coupon

Now this, this is good - he could use them to barter with the team… if he could convince himself to not hoard them.

♢ - 10 minutes letting you show off at practice

Finally, you’ll come through on your promise of visiting him at practice!!

☆ - Bento Box

So you had been paying attention to how he always ogled your food during lunch hour. Oh, Tanaka is gonna be so jealous.

♡ - Kiss

He rereads the single word again. And again. He blows away nonexistent eraser shards; wipes the paper with his sleeve; traces his finger over the word. And still, there it is, inked directly onto the paper, completely intentional. Kiss.

Frantically he flipped through the packet, searching for the problem sets marked with a heart. Just what would he have to do to earn the sweetness of your lips against his? He’d do just about anything, really, he’d craved your affection since midway through first year.

Nishinoya Yuu would do anything to kiss you just once - even a physics problem so brutal even the most genius of his classmates might shy away from it.

“Ok, fess up, which one of you gave Noya answers to his study work?!” You shout, storming into Karasuno’s volleyball gym as the team begins their practice. The underclassmen’s confused stares hardly dent your frustration with the team and whichever of them was insolent enough to go directly against your request.

Ennoshita winces, smiling bashfully. “Well… I didn’t help him, exactly. He just told me to check his work and it was right, I didn’t give away any answers.”

Noya smiles proudly from across the gymnasium, “See! I’m perfectly capable of doing physics on my own!”

“Suga? Daichi? Is this true?” You ask, turning to the reliable third-years on the team, who you’re sure were there to witness Noya’s breakthrough.

“Mhm,” Suga nods, “And he went skipping to first period like a little girl.”

“I do not skip!” Noya insists.

The first years giggle amongst themselves, clearly amused by the dispute. Though, in their shoes, you probably would’ve laughed too.

“No, you were skipping,” Daichi adds bluntly. Noya’s jaw drops, insulted.

“I do not- Oh, fine, whatever, maybe I skipped a little. But see, I didn’t get answers from anyone, I solved the problem by myself! So therefore I deserve my reward!”

So maybe he did solve the problem on his own. So maybe he did spend all night working on that one near-impossible problem just to get the reward. So maybe he does want to kiss you.

“Alright, alright, I accept it, you solved the problem yourself. Good job. Call me when you’re done with practice, you’ll get your reward then.” You say resignedly, turning to leave the club room.

“No, don’t make me wait so long! I gave you the problem at lunch, you’re so mean to me!” Noya calls after you.

As you leave, a redheaded first-year (Hintata, if you correctly remembered Noya's ramblings about his teammates) whispers to you: “I think he’s in love with you.”

Thank the heavens that your back was turned, because your flustered expression would’ve made your crush on the libero painfully obvious to all in the room.

But oh how you hoped that first year was right.

Only minutes after the end of practice, Noya found you behind the gymnasium. Still sweaty and haphazardly changed, he jogged to you excitedly.

“I’m here now! Now don’t tell me I sat on the sidelines through morning practice for nothing, Daichi was ready to kill me,” He said, breathing slightly heavier than usual but still energetic.

“Have you just been pretending to be stupid this whole time?” You ask, “I spent days making that problem for a different study group, days, doing everything I could to make it impossible. I gave it to you as a joke, more than anything, I didn’t think you’d actually solve it.”

Noya inhales sharply, looking down to the ground. “So, the part about… the kiss… was that a joke too?” He begins stepping back, feeling a fool for getting his hopes up so high. Frustrated and confused, he begins running his mouth like he always does, muttering about being a fool, being hopeless, the evilness of your schemes, and having wasted his energy and time in search of something he would never get.

“Noya, shut up,” You say, but he pays you no mind. “Yuu!”

The one lesson he needs to learn is how to quiet down, and you know he won’t learn it on his own. You grab him by the cheeks and pull his lips to yours, cutting him off mid-sentence, kissing him right there behind the gymnasium as night descends upon the city. When you part he remains speechless, cocoa-brown eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

“It was a joke because I didn’t think you’d want it,” You murmur, letting a hand slide into his sweaty but somehow still soft hair. “If I had known this was what you wanted I would’ve let you kiss me as many times as you wanted.”

Noya leans into your hand, as if making sure that you’re actually there, actually touching him. Gently you bring your foreheads to touch, a silent reminder that you are indeed real. “You're more than just a friend to me, Yuu, and in every moment that you’re silent I’ll remind you.”

“Ehehe, guess I’ll just never speak again,” He laughs cheekily, stealing another kiss, quick and playful.

You pull back, but don’t move your hand away. What an idiot, snapping from speechless to silly in such a quick moment, and absolutely desperate for affection to boot. And yet this dramatic idiot had you absolutely smitten and wanting to kiss him over and over until evening turned to night turned to morning.

“You didn’t earn that one, Yuu! I guess I’ll have to cut your showoff time rewards by half,” You tease, poking the tip of his nose with your finger. It’s a ridiculous facade on your part - he’d never have to earn a kiss from you, just ask and you’d gladly give it to him. But the way his face twisted yet again, horrified by your mock threat, was too cute to pass up.

“Half?!” He scoffs, “I guess I’ll have to be extra flashy for my sunshine!”

“Sunshine? Since when am I your sunshine?”

“I dunno, since now? Come on, it’s cute!”

Sunshine it is, then. Though if either of the two of you is the sunshine, you’re sure it must be him, because his giddy grin is easily the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life.

#imagine ⋆｡°✩#nishinoya x reader #noya x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #haikyuu x reader #nishinoya x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #nishinoya x you #nishinoya x y/n #noya x you #noya x y/n

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floorbe · 20 days ago

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hihi!! i was wondering about something in BG3.

i have tattoos. two on my wrists (one's a moth and the other a pretty mushroom), and a thirteen inch tattoo along my back of the phases of the moon.

how would Astarion react to seeing his lover's tattoos? the scared part of my mind feels like he'd be offended, but i'd also like to think that tattoos are a way for me to take control of my own self and feel in control of my own body again, and he'd see that.

so... what's your verdict??

great question anon!! also ur tatts sound so sick omg... ive been wanting to get one lmfao

-When he first meets you he may insult them out of his own frustration. Why do you get to fuck up your body however you want when he can't even stand in the sunlight he longs for? It's unfair.

-Unfair that you get to do what you want. Unfair that you got to choose what was carved into your skin when he-- ah. There's the root.

-The insults die down the longer you travel together and the closer you two become. As he starts to realize that he can take himself back (and when he realizes that you respect him-- when was the last time he'd felt that?) he sees your tattoos as less of a slight against him and more of a... possibility?

-After a while, you'll instead catch him studying your tattoos when he thinks you aren't looking. This is when the change between insulting your tattoos to complimenting them begins.

-Once past his own frustrations, Astarion would be very supportive! We've seen him when you get Loviatar's blessing- this guy is all for pain and reward (though mostly the pain)!

-He will 100% force you to take him with you to your next tattoo session just to watch and cheer. Wince for him, would you? It's terribly boring watching someone get drawn on, throw him a bone!

-(Nevermind the fact that he was the one who insisted on coming along, but who is Astarion if not dramatic?)

-As much as he supports your decision and regularly tells you how utterly delectable your inked skin looks ("Gods, your skin practically glows in the moonlight, dear... Might I have a nibble? Just to see if it tastes as delicious as you look, of course."), a part of him still feels... bitter.

-He'll feel a bit bittersweet about it if it's a sentimental tattoo you've gotten, but even moreso if it was an impulse or fun decision.

-A part of him will always long to decorate his own body to his own wants- to finally get what he likes on himself. He wants the choice to fuck up his own body if he wants to.

-...He isn't ready for that quite yet, though. Tattoos remind him too much of the runes already on his back- particularly the pain aspect. He's heard you describe the sensation and isn't keen to try it out just yet.

-Don't be fooled, this doesn't mean he won't let you draw up some designs for him. In fact-- he'll demand you to draw a picture of some ideas for him- he must see what you've thought up for him! What do you think would decor him well?! Make him even more beautiful? Oh, you must show him!

-If you offer to actually tattoo him he'll wave you off playfully with a comment on "my skin is flawless already-- why tarnish it?" or a "darling, you wound me... here I thought you loved me for me"

-Not yet, it seems. But one day, you're both sure, he'll take you up on it.

-He already lives out his dreams of living in the sunlight through you- and his dreams of being a hero, being publicly adored, powerful... why shouldn't he live out this part of himself through you, too?

-At least until he's ready for his own tattoo. Which, based on how he's been eying your ink for the past week and rubbing his own wrist, seems sooner than you think.

#bg3 #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion

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semisomnosres · 5 months ago

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I recently re-watched this show and noticed these villains shown literally for 3 seconds, and then I come to my senses in front of an open canvas and a stylus in my hand

Here is my interpretation of them and a couple of sketches, I'm not very good at coming up with names, but for the sake of decency I added them

(I noticed that only the girl's name was shown, if others also had it somewhere, correct me) In order:

Diego Ansford A bounty hunter and a mercenary for hire, perhaps he doesn't even disdain to organize a robbery of a bank that he just met along the way. Judging by his suit, he is not one of those who prefers to carry out tasks quietly, but rather kick down the door and throw grenades for fun, and after 10 minutes there is not a single intact place left inside the building.

W. KING (Willow) She was on Van Rook's client list, maybe she's a collector of ancient artifacts (perhaps it was to her that Van Rook wanted to sell those artifacts from the burial mounds) And now she's in a VERY tense relationship with Abbey (I don't know why, I just wanted to :) so much so that not a single event where these two are together goes by without at least one clump of torn hair.

Dr. Gelfand A bioengineer and neurosurgeon, almost completely fits the description of a "mad scientist" He didn't lose his arm and there is no tragic story about it, he replaced it with a prosthesis himself to make his work easier. He actively buys up cryptids for his experiments (I can imagine how angry Saturdays will be if they meet him. If he had his way, he would have already studied Zak's brain under a microscope.) And I don't know why, but while drawing a sketch with a shot knee, I came up with some kind of friendship between them (?) Where one, many years ago, foolishly gave the other a small amount of money and he hasn't returned it for 20 years. He doesn't even hope that the other will ever return it, but asking at every meeting "what happened to the money" and the other refusing to return it in any way has already become a tradition at the greeting level

Eitor Bergler He became a cyborg after an accident, maybe after a shipwreck. He terrorizes many sea routes and if a ship with valuable contents suddenly disappears, then with a high probability he is involved in it.

Yamamoto Kirahara We have already been shown intelligent cryptids (Argost and the Kumaris) and I got the idea to make him also an intelligent cryptid from the race of mole people. (at first I wanted to make the man a rat, but in the background I had "Inside Job" it talked about mole people) I see him as a businessman who got so rich that he acquired almost impenetrable immunity to the law and has great influence in the criminal world. He doesn't act like Argost, but more covertly

#semisomnosres #the secret saturdays #secret saturdays #van rook #abbey grey

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volturissideslut · 16 days ago

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Can you do one with george weasley based on But Daddy I love him by Taylor swift

𝕲𝖊𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊 𝖂𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖞

George and ced are two of my fav boys

"Now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned"

Literally. Georges hand clasps at yours desperately as you two bolt down the hallways in fits of giggles. Your faces flush red as you finally make it to his dorm successfully - at least you thought so. Little did you know that professor Snape was well and truly ticked, fed up, and ready to end your antics. He sat at his dest with quil in hand writing a letter home. You and George just lie there in his bed, chattering away, and him roping you into his next silly little scheme

"Screaming "But Daddy I love him!""

Your fathers' response letter didn't tak lone to reach you at all, absolutely at his wit's end, and adamant you leave George in the past and 'grow up'. Back and forth back and forth your letter went, telling him you love George and can't leave him. Ever so the traditionalist, he demands you marry wealth and should look for a partner with better prospects - someone suited for the ministry perhaps. George kisses the back of your neck and you put the letter down.

"I'm having his baby"

But it's summer break now so your forced to go home. Your last year is done and so you don't have the safety of the walls of Hogwarts to protect that spark we call love anymore. You're isolated from George really, ntil one day you blurt out your pregnany. Then your father's song and dance changed, saying you must marry George this instant and not have a baby out of wedlock. You finally see George, but the visit to the burrow is an awkward one with Molly staring at you how she is. Your man just takes you into his arms, glad your back.

"No, I'm not, but you should see your faces"

Georges family are the only people you tell that it was a lie for your freedom, and most of them are relieved, yes. But it ignites something within George, a want he never knew he had, to have you in his own home for him to look after. His business is going well, children loving 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes', and he uses the money to get you a quaint little flat in London. You help out at the shop sometimes, interviewing for jobs you studied for other times, but little do you know the world grows suspicious.

"I'm telling him to floor it through the fences"

It's not long until your family and the rest of the world found out you told a lie, but with the pre-paid for wedding in a week you were holding out hope that things could still go smoothly. Not so much the case, as your father's and families' recent appearances would suggest. George reaches for a knife from the draw to cut a carrot, the both of you working on dinner together. It's a peaceful bliss, spending time with the one you love. Little chatter fills the air, from him still flirting with you to the both of you testing out awful pick up lines and jokes. He breaks the peace, only for a moment, and asks 'what if we eloped?'

"No, I'm not coming to my senses"

You put down the wooden spoon, and nod with a gentle 'okay'. Words fail you at the moment so you settle for lunging forward into his embrace. Georges arm's wrap around you and pull you tight.

"I know he's crazy but he's the one I want"

First thing in the morning he puts on his suit, and watches longingly as you get all dolled up for him in the mirror. You two get there before it even opens, and by 9:25 on the 18th on March you're legally married. And sure, you'd still have your celebration or 'proper wedding' in a weeks time, but now you were safe to call him yours forever, and nobody could get between that, not a soul. You have a few drinks, and yes it's the morning but you just married so who cares! It's time to celebrate. But them you're right back at home, in your little London flat, George above you and kissing down the nape of your neck. "You ready for some fun, Mrs. Weasley?"

#x reader #harry potter blurb #harry potter x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #weasley #volturissideslut

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beatcroc · 11 months ago

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a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #the noise #noisette #pizzahead #arting #pizzaposting

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sparklingmineraltequila · 3 months ago

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American Wasteland

Note: Super fucking late. I know I said that this was gonna be just them drinking and screwing but it descended into some super emotionally intense shit so please don't read if you're a minor or if you hate that shit

Warning: 18+ This is dark. Some EXTREMELY heavy description of physical abuse towards women, extremely unhealthy reaction of OC in regards to this abuse, Smut, drinking, smoking, swearing

No-one rides a motorbike who doesn't slightly want to die. It's not just the past few years of dealing with the scum scraped fresh off of Cell Block 1's floor that has led Rust to believe that. He doesn't need to see the Iron Crusaders' (and his own) track marks to know that every fucker here has a death wish; it's that low, churning engine rumble that tells him. Excitement often boils down to terror and you can't not care when your Harley's doing 100 down along the coast; a hurricane cooking up in the grey-blue of the Gulf. You'll die just swerving slightly. It's exciting. Rust sees that same excitement, the one of licking syrup off of the jagged edge, in Cassandra's eyes. Hell, it's why she fucks with him, both figuratively and literally. As she taps her fingernails on the sticky bar top, Rust can see that restlessness froth up, in her eyes; the way that they glaze over while she studies him. Cassandra's gonna make him fucking pay for it.

'You owe me, at least, a double,' she says, resting her forearms on the bar as she makes a show of arching her back and rolling the cracks out of her shoulder. Rust looks at her, unimpressed by her languid stretching,

'Those shorts show enough, as it is. Ain't no reason to be doing all that shit.'

'Jealous?'

Rust reaches for the Camels in the inside pocket of his leather jacket,

'Of these motherfuckers? Ain't no-one here that could handle that goddamn attitude. And for the smell outside, ain't no-one here handlin' their liquor, either.'

That earns a huff of a laugh for Cassandra,

'Let the poor bastards have some fun. Most of 'em are probably just trying to take a load off and relax.'

Rust sighs out a flood of grey and eyes her from the side; a cool, appraising look which Cassandra doesn't miss.

'What?' she asks, her head jutting forward slightly and eyes already narrowed, as if already anticipating the bite of his words.

'These are the same men that fuckin' feel you up, back at the club. These beers and shit is just what loosens 'em up.'

'That's just all men,' Cassandra says dryly, not even attempting to muster any indignation at the fact. A girl already resigned to nicotine stained callouses palming her tits and ass. How much do you value your body over rent? Where do you draw the line between the meat that courses with capillaries and nerves and life, and the meat that jiggles when a biker spanks it? Is it worth defining it? Rust knows that, for Cassandra, it sure as hell isn't. Shit, it isn't for either of them, or anyone at that. Sentient meat with electrical impulses tricking us into thinking that it actually matters if we put a gun in our mouth or not, next Tuesday. Rust gives another grainy, derisive scoff,

'Fair enough.'

'Plus, they pay rent. As long as they have the money, they can do whatever they want,' Cassandra shrugs while scraping at some gunk, on the bar, with her thumbnail. Neither of them look at each other.

'I thought we agreed that you weren't gonna bullshit me anymore, Cass.'

'I ain't bullshitting you.'

Rust's gaze moves from the beer taps to an ashtray,

'You goddamn hate it, Cass. I hate it for you.'

'I never said I didn't. But I ain't about to turn down a lap dance cause I've got morals. Shit, Crash, you think I'm that much of a kid?'

Rust can see the way she finishes with a smile and licks the inside of his cheek to prevent his own faint smirk; as if it's some depressingly fucked up inside joke that the two share.

'I am pretty good at pretending that it turns me on, though. Ain't I?' Cassandra says, leaning her side against the bar top with glint in her eye that Rust thinks looks far too much like baiting.

'Keep talkin' like that and you're only gettin' a single.'

'Yeah, that sounds like a fucking admission to me.'

Rust knows why she does this shit; he's seen it enough in the smoky, post-sex haze of their trailer-floor bedroom. Their bodies sticky to the touch, Rust festering in a pit of self-loathing, that he now doesn't even attempt to claw out of, and Cassandra, toeing the line between humour and cruelty, in a desperate attempt to cover up how fucking exposed she is to him. It acts as a way to convince herself that she wouldn't let him hurt her. They both know she's lying. Beneath a nicotine-yellow ceiling and the monotony of the squeaking fan, it's easy to pretend that they are what they present to each other; neither one of them has it in themselves to strip the other bare.

Cassandra is silent for a moment, too long a moment, so Rust bites,

'What?'

'So, I can't call you Ru-'

'No.'

'Not even when we're fucking?'

'Especially not when we're fucking.'

'It ain't like I'm gonna slip up.'

Rust nods to the bartender, uneasy with the raw territory that the conversation is quickly accelerating towards,

'Two fingers of Jameson,' he says, before turning expectantly towards Cassandra.

'A Budweiser and a double of tequila; lime and all that shit.'

The bartender gives Cassandra a slight arch of his brow, clearly unimpressed in having to get out the shot glasses in a place where the liquor bottle usually just stays on the bar top; anyone its owner until they pass out or their wallet runs dry. He acquiesces, though, satiated by having a girl like Cassandra in his bar. Cassandra sees it in his eyes, too: the moment where aggravation turns to lust. She's seen it often, as well as its inversion. The two things men know best, she'd told Rust once, after some fucker bit her shoulder during a lap dance, unable to stop jutting his hard-on into her as he'd called her a 'fucking teasing little bitch', Sex and Rage. So well, they often mix 'em up. Cassandra knows better than anyone else how to tree that line; girls in her line of work usually do. Turn that anger into libido by grinding on them well enough, or try to get hit in a place where you can't see the bruise too much. Don't want the customers to acknowledge that their domination of this body is as fucking pathetic as the last guy who payed to fuck her up. Bruises that belong to different men just don't carry the same degradation. You're a fucking punchbag, nothing worth actually beating into submission. Rust knows that's part of the reason that Cassandra has never bothered to cover up the one's he'd leave after they fucked: someone had finally deemed her worthy to stick around after the time ran up to teach her a lesson.

Rust turns to the bartender, deciding whether, with the coke that he took before chasing after Cassandra still pulsating through his capillaries, he should ignore the slobbering slack-jaw looks he was giving her. He's so goddamn exhausted, after all. Hell, he's already violated more CID regulations than he can count by even starting this shit with her but, then again, he's been in this fucking purgatory of bikers, meth and lukewarm liquor for 3 more years than he should so who's doing semantics?

'That Motel 6 across the lot still runnin',?

The bartender nods,

'As long as there're hookers and junkies on God's green earth.'

Rust lights another cigarette before saying,

'Finish your beer, baby. Then we head.'

The bartender miscalculates, misinterpreting Rust's biker leather as some sort of male cammeradery, and juts forward to ask,

'Hey man, after you're done, you mind tellin' me which room you leave her in?' his hunger glazing his eyes like it would an animal's.

Rust doesn't even have time to break his nose before Cassandra semi-lunges herself across the bar, only restrained by Rust's forearm as he tells her,

'Easy. Easy.'

Time and breath wasted, though, with the way Cassandra writhes against his grip, arm pointing into the bartender's face as she sneers,

'I'd give you two seconds, motherfucker, before your dick gets soft and you start crying to your momma cause it won't go up again, you dumb fucking piece of shit. Ain't even fucking man enough to spot an actual hooker.'

The bartender's face twists, as the insults spew out, and his own vitriol starts to froth up,

'Oh, so you ain't even smart enough to get paid for it? This son of a bitch just fucks you for free, huh? Shi-it, your daddy must've fucked you up bad.'

Rust hauls Cassandra out of the bar, as the pair of them continue to shout whiskey-spit slathered insults at each other, the violence of the curses slithering up from wherever they had hidden it with pills, liquor or sex, for the time being. The moment the bloody meat of catharsis presents itself, they turn into rabid dogs; heat, insect bites and all.

After body slamming the bar door to open it, Rust has to restrain himself from shoving Cassandra off of his chest as she unevenly places her feet on the asphalt, the heel of her cowboy boot twisting and making her stumble to her knees. Rust, still too furious with her goddamn attitude and the bartender's comments, doesn't even turn around as he strides towards the Motel 6,

'Get the fuck up and walk, Cassandra.'

Cassandra pushing herself up, the gravel still embedded in the soft flesh of her palms,

'Oh, so now you're fucking mad at me?!'

'What did I goddamn tell you?'

'To not call you Rust.'

'Shut the fuck up with that, right now.'

'Then, what?'

Rust doesn't look at her. Hell, he even quickens his stride,

'That you're gonna get yourself fuckin' killed with that goddamn mouth. You know the shit an angry man is capable of better than anyone else and you're far too fuckin' smart to be having pissin' contests with a bunch of liquored up assholes.'

It's harsh. Shit, it's a punch to the gut, Rust knows, but he's gotten to the point where he cares about Cassandra way too fucking much to let her be this goddamn stupid when he's around. She knows that, ashamed of her own naivety in thinking that she could ever protect herself from a man who wanted to hurt her. Rust glances at her,

'I get that you're angry, Cass. Don't let it make you a dumbass.'

'Anger is the only goddamn thing that has ever kept me safe. Angry women are the only people who have ever kept me safe.'

Rust clenches his jaw but knows that she's right and finds a lingering sense of relief that she didn't include him, on that list.

Even more so when she has him on his back on their motel room mattress. Rust knows it's goddamn selfish and twisted to be grateful for Cassandra's hard-earned cynicism, won from the sharp edge of male entitlement, but it keeps her fucking safe from him. Ironically, when they fuck is the only time that she doesn't look at him with a tinge of that silent, gnawing desperation. No, not with the way that she's moving on top of him, now; tits pushed up in that white lace bra, strands of hair getting stuck on the slick bottom lip of her open mouth. After Cassandra had desperately scrambled to get out from underneath him, shoving his shoulders down as she'd promised,

'Please-I'm sorry-It'll feel good. Just let me.'

An inversion for both of them, as they slowly find their rhythm; the bed's awkward creaking a deep contrast with the pure fucking heat in their held stare. Rust doesn't know what to do with his shit but lie back and try not to come just from the way she looks at him. Ever since being undercover, sex has been another convoy of power and domination; violence with just the same amount of blood and spit. Sex has never been an essentially good thing for Rust, not until he met Claire. For a couple years it was, now it's just become an amalgamation of proving how much of a sick asshole he is to the rest of the Crusaders and a reminder of the lurid hubris that led to his daughter's death. To be forced back onto this mildew infested mattress, and have a girl as beautiful as Cassandra take care of him, makes Rust want to either vomit or cry. But he lets her, he knows she needs this shit. Let her feel in control for 5 goddamn minutes of her life, Rust thinks, as Cassandra deeply rolls her hips down as he lifts up. An in adverted moan escapes from both; skin starting to gloss over with exertion. They both attempt to inculcate some of that violence they both need so badly: Cassandra scrapes her nails down his chest and forearm, while Rust reaches that very forearm up to grab her throat, his other hand forming yet another bruise on her hip.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Cassandra whimpers out, as she stares down at Rust who reaches the hand that's on her thigh to grab his Camels; desperate for a goddamn anchor. As he lights one, he holds her there by the throat. Cassandra stares down at him, her body trembling with pleasure but her gaze steady.

They don't kiss.

#rust cohle #rust cohle x reader #rust cohle x original female character #american wasteland

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