#but then once things got serious i was really into it

[murkystarlight]

Well- thanks for the tag. Um... storytelling my life, huh.

Well, you can... officially say I've got one of the most boring and normal life ever.

I always hear or see kids talking about something that happened in their life. Like breaking a bone or two... getting sick really often... heck, my brother got a fish bone stuck in his throat once and my sister had an incident while jumping on a trampoline and her tounge(the tip of it) was dangling, almost falling off

But me? ...I barely got sick when I was younger according to my grandmother. I think I may have sprained my ankle once in my life. But that's all. Nothing worth telling a story about. Especially since I can't remember a bunch of stuff.

Uhhhhh maybe the story of how I got a nose bleed.

I got like... two nose bleeds my entire life. And I remember exactly why. I could have other times that I don't remember but- once in like.. a dojo when I was young to learn jujitsu or taekwondo or something- there was a small fight between the kids and my stupid ass thought it's be a good idea to try and stop them(either that or I just got hit while walking past them lol) so yeah. That's the first one. And second one... it was 2-3 years ago? I stayed up a night. And got a nose bleed. Which was strange. I wasn't even that tired on that day. Nor have I had a nosebleed when I was not sleeping at night. Also another funny(?) thing about this, I stayed up for two days in a row about a week before, and I was fine during that.

If I go through more recent stuff though, there's a little bit more events(because I have become a weird person during the last 3 years). Like two years ago, it was the start of a new school year. We took a bunch of different kind of tests. Similar to personality tests. One of the results... must've been a bit... bad. Cause my mom got a message from the school asking if she wanted to send me to the school therapy(not too big or serious I assume. It's just a school therapy system after all). Of course I reassured her and she didn't think it would be a problem so I didn't go.

Or last year. When I hit a guy on the back of his head. With a book. Either the Mark of Athena or The blood of Olympus :)

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. iv

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader summary: Art comes out of retirement to test out his coaching skills. Your relationship with him continues to spiral. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, divorce, rough sex, piv, marijuana use, slight angst, hastily proofread word count: 7.7K divider by @cafekitsune <3 prev part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Kaleb decides he wants to play tennis. Or that he wants to “get serious” about it. He’d done tennis camp every summer along with soccer camp, and he’d enjoyed it enough. But for some reason, he’s determined to be a tennis player now. You blame it on how much time he’s been spending around the Donaldson’s. Between the various play dates and carpooling, he and Lily have been attached at the hip.

The two of you are enjoying a quiet evening  on a weeknight when he brings it up. 

“Lily doesn’t really like tennis,” he tells you in between bites of mashed potatoes. 

“Well that’s okay. Sometimes our friends end up having different hobbies,” you say.

“Hm,” he puts his finger to his chin, “kinda like you and Mr. Art?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well he’s like the greatest tennis player ever,” he says, spreading his arms out wide. “But you’re terrible at tennis. And you guys are friends right?”

His assertion has you placing your fork down. “Okay, first of all, I’m not terrible at tennis. Secondly, it’s really not fair to compare me to a professional tennis player, K, he’s had years of practice.” Then, you reluctantly think of the last thing he said. About the two of you being friends. 

Images of Art kneeling above you in bed dance through your mind. You think of the last time you were with him. How he’d laid his cheek on your thigh while you threaded your fingers through his tufts of blonde hair. His gaze searing as he watched you in all your post-orgasmic bliss. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to recover.  

You clear your throat. 

“Yeah, um, I guess we are friends.” You avoid eye contact with Kaleb and pray he changes the subject. You don’t want to think about Art. 

Unfortunately, your son is too young to properly read the room. If he was, he’d see the way you’re clenching your fork in your fist. Or he would’ve realized by now that his mom is a harlot. Instead of calling you out on your immorality, he turns to you with express earnestness. “I wanna play tennis like Mr. Art,” he says definitively.

He then furrows his little eyebrows and asks you, “you think I can be as good as him one day?”

You smile, reach over to smooth your palm over his curls, and tug his ear. You say what every parent would. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, my little monkey.” 

He grins at you, dimple poking out.

After all, you’re almost certain this is just an eager phase prompted by Lily bringing Tashi to school for career day. Tashi mentioned to you that Kaleb was very eager to ask questions about her job. Apparently, he thought it was super cool that she “got to coach the best tennis players in the world.” You’re worried that before dinner is over he might ask you to put in a word with her about coaching him. 

Once you’ve finished eating, tucked Kaleb in, and tidied up the kitchen, you finally get to relax with a cup of lavender chamomile tea.

Before you settle into the refuge of your bed, you make a note to sign Kaleb up for club tennis. 

ᯓ

You’re at a gas station near Kaleb’s school when you realize your dumb credit card has a faulty chip. You grab your purse and lock the doors to your car, having been forced to go inside the store and pay for your gas the old fashioned way. 

The door shuts behind you with a ring of a bell. The unmistakable smell of fuel fills your nostrils as it mixes with stale coffee and the emblematic stench of small convenience stores. You grumble when you see there’s a short line. 

With a sigh, you take a detour down one of the narrow aisles to grab a pack of gum. You pick out a random pack of spearmint, but your inner child lingers on the yellow packaging of juicy fruit bubble gum sitting beside it. When you were little, your mom would’ve made you pick one or the other. Without a second thought, you pluck the yellow pack out from the shelf and head back towards the front. 

On your walk back, you glance out the windows, checking to make sure the pump you’re parked at is still number 5. 

The line is shorter now. There’s only two people. You think you recognize the dark head of the person standing at the counter. They’re digging through the back pocket of their jeans and pulling out a leather wallet when your cellphone dings. It’s an email notification from your boss. You read the subject header before dropping the phone back into your purse, hoping to avoid whatever stressor awaits you there for a couple more hours or so. When you look back up, you’re met with the face of the dark haired stranger. 

His eyes meet yours. Patrick Zweig sends you a mischievous smile of recognition as he saunters toward you. He snaps his fingers. “I know you.”

“Hi, Patrick,” you say through your tight smile. The last time you’d seen him, he tried to blackmail you into going out with him. If he wasn’t so attractive, you’d probably be repulsed by him. 

“Long time no see.” He pockets his package of Marlboros. “How you been?”

“Um just busy you know,” you hum. “You?” 

He nods. “Same, same.” He looks you over, smile growing wider when he meets your eyes after lingering on your cleavage. He doesn’t even attempt to be discreet. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes to the side.

Thankfully, the bald guy in front of you finishes up his transaction so you have an excuse to say “excuse me” to Patrick as you approach the register. You glance back when you hand your money to the bored cashier, catching one last glimpse of Patrick as he exits through the door. You nibble on the inside of your cheek, feeling the tiniest hint of disappointment. 

You accept your change and two packs of gum and make your way back to your car. Not wanting to waste any more time at this point, you toss the plastic bag into the passenger seat and hurry to pump your gas.  

You’re leaning against the trunk while the fuel fills your tank when you hear a small “hey.” 

You’re startled as Patrick approaches you again. You look around suspiciously. “Um are you stalking me?” 

“No.” He huffs out a laugh. “I was standing over there taking a smoke.” He points towards his beat up suv. You wonder why he doesn’t have a better car. You thought tennis players made money. “And I saw you. Didn’t get to say goodbye earlier.” 

You click your tongue. “Well, bye.” 

“Wait—I hope I didn’t rub you the wrong way last time.” He rubs his palm over the back of his neck. “I kind of have a fucked up sense of humor.” 

“It wasn’t the joke,” you supply. “It was more so you trying to blackmail me into going on a date with you.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know why that didn’t work.” The grin he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. 

This time, you smirk, your gaze tracing the length of his body, from his Nikes to the curly wisps of hair flying in the wind. The gas pump clicks, signifying that your tank is full. You don’t remove it right away because you’re busy letting Patrick type his number into your phone. You wish you could say you played hard to get, but that would be a lie of monumental magnitude. 

You don’t actually intend to call him, content to let his number go forgotten in your phone. After all, what type of woman would get involved with the best friend of the man she’s having an affair with? 

Later on, when you’re having a glass of wine, mommy duties complete for the night, you pause on his number as you tap through your phone. You inhale, take a sip from your glass, and quickly save his contact before swiping out of the app. You can blame it on your being slightly tipsy when you notice that he’s saved as “for a rainy day.” 

ᯓ

It turns out that the tennis thing isn’t just a phase. You don’t mind of course. You’d always support your kid in whatever he pursued. The only issue is that Art fucking Donaldson thought it would be a good idea to train little Kaleb. As if you needed more reasons to be around the man. 

You’d told him that you didn’t think it was necessary because your son was only eight years old. Surely, he wouldn’t need a retired professional tennis player to train him. His tennis lessons at the local club would certainly suffice. Plus, you imagined he had more important things to attend to than give private lessons to a third grader. 

On a random weeknight, you’d gone to pick Kaleb up from a play date with Lily, hoping to grab him and get back home before the rain got any worse. Art had greeted you at the door, placing a hand on the small of your back. 

He decided to bring up the topic again. Even Tashi, who was usually busy with training of her own, chimed in, claiming it would be a good opportunity for Art to find real meaning in tennis again. Whatever that meant. Patrick, who you had been avoiding thinking about, once again inserted himself into a conversation, pointing out how young he and Art were when they first started playing tennis. According to him, it was never too early to learn how to properly hit a ball with a racket. 

ᯓ

The thought of Art spending time with Kaleb through tennis is an endearing one if you’re being honest with yourself. But you know you would have an intense fight on your hands should Chris find out. 

Ever since Art had stepped in with your ex at the fall festival, he’d harbored an attitude toward him. He’d gone as far as complaining about all the time Kaleb spent at his house, accusing you of trying to turn your son against him. If it weren’t for the court mandated visits, you’d have simply told Chris to go to hell. But in an attempt to maintain peace for your son’s sake, you reassured him that Kaleb only spent so much time around Art because Lily was his best friend. 

You asked him if it was worth destroying his son’s friendship. He conceded for the time being, but you’re sure if he found out about any extra tennis lessons, he’d blow a gasket. 

Ironically, you had never been offered the freedom to express such possessiveness. You had to be content each and every time your son stayed at his father’s new house with his new fiancée that you barely knew anything about. You handle some occasions better than others. 

This time, though, when you watch Kaleb go through the front door of their luxurious home, Spider-Man backpack affixed on his back, your stomach churns. Chris’ fiancée smiles and waves to you with her left hand. Bitterly, you think it’s a miracle she can even lift it with the large diamond wrapped around her finger. She places her hand on your son’s shoulder, pulling him into their home, as if she wasn’t the one that helped wreck yours. 

Maybe it’s the fact that this past week would’ve been your anniversary, but your shoulders shake with sobs throughout the entire drive home. You sniffle as you think about Kaleb building a life with his soon to be step-mom. You hope she treats him right, but, ultimately, you wish he didn’t have to know her at all. 

It doesn’t help that you aren’t able to bury your sorrows in Art’s chest or on his dick. He’d already told you about the gala he’d be attending that weekend for the Donaldson Foundation. You haven’t seen him since last weekend, and you ache to call him, but the thought makes you feel nauseous when you think about the wretched irony of seeking comfort in a married man. In a decision that’s almost homogeneously pathetic, you sit in your lonely driveway and send a “hey” to ‘for a rainy day.’

ᯓ

It doesn’t take long for Patrick to offer to come over. You send him your location as you pop open a bottle of wine. 

You reach for a glass, your eagerness causing you to apply too much force as you slam the glass down. It breaks under the pressure of your haste, immediately cracking at the stem. The inconvenience is too much for you. You curse before bringing the entire bottle up to your mouth. You take a swig, red liquid spilling out of the corner of your mouth. With a gasp, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Pitifully, your vision starts to blur again as your eyes swell up with hot tears. You resort to sitting on the kitchen floor, taking the occasional drink, and wallowing in your despair. 

You’re propped against the cabinet, knees to your chest as you cradle the green tinted bottle of red wine like a toddler holding a stuffed animal, when you hear your doorbell ring. You stumble to your feet, dragging them as you move toward the door. When you swing the door open, Patrick is standing there with his hands in his pockets. He looks you over once, mumbling that you “look like shit” before stepping into your home as if he’d been there a thousand times. 

He lifts his eyebrows when he sees the neglected pieces of glass on your counter. He looks back at the bottle in your fist before groaning. “Please don’t tell me you’re an alcoholic.” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I’m just having a pretty shitty day.” 

“No shit,” he snorts. 

You send him a glare. “I don’t even know why I called you,” you say and rub your temples. 

“Because I’m obviously easy and you know it.” He smirks. 

It makes you laugh, your red, puffy eyes squinting back at him. 

Patrick eventually convinces you to smoke the joint he’d brought with him. You haven’t gotten high in years, and you find yourself mindlessly rambling about your life as you pass the joint back and forth to him. You’d stopped crying a while ago, your eyes now red because of the weed. 

You and Patrick are lounging on the floor of your living room. You’re dragging your fingers through the shag rug underneath you and leaning your head back on the sofa when you hear him laugh. He sounds like he’s far away, down through a tunnel, but when you turn your head, his face is right beside you. 

“What’s funny?” You grunt. 

He shakes his head. “S’nothing.” 

You frown and shove his bicep. “Tell me,” you say, scooting closer to him. “I hate feeling left out.” 

His smile falters for a second like he’s remembering something, but when you blink he’s sporting a melancholic grin. “It’s just—you kind of remind me a lot of Art.” His head falls to the side to really look at you. “I mean not like completely, and not really how he is now, but when you’re upset—it reminds me of when we were teenagers.” 

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not,” you say. It comes out as a whisper. Your faces are so close that you don’t want to startle him. 

“Hm.” His eyes flicker to your lips. “Not a good or bad thing. Just a thing.” 

“That’s why you like me?” You mumble teasingly. “Because I remind you of your boyfriend?” 

He smirks, lips so close to yours you feel his breath fan them. “Who said I liked you?” 

“You don’t have to.” You’re just the slightest movement away from kissing him. If you tilt your head just the tiniest bit—

He lets out an almost imperceptible moan when he finally presses his lips to yours. It’s so quiet, you think you might’ve imagined it. It all happens incredibly fast, but feels like slow motion. Your head is fuzzy and your body is tingling as Patrick grabs your waist, hoisting you onto his lap. It takes you a moment to build momentum, your sensory overload working against you.

When you’re finally able to match his energy, the kiss is searing. He’s sucking your lip into his mouth like you’re already his, hands roaming everywhere he can get them. When he bites your bottom lip, you suck in a breath, giving him room to thrust his tongue into your mouth. You mewl at the way your mouths seem to fit together like velcro. Your toes curl and you tighten your fists into his dark locks when you feel his hot tongue traveling down your throat, leaving white hot bites that feel like being branded. His teeth sting and your cunt throbs as you impulsively rut against his length. 

Patrick rubs his large palm over your ass before abruptly smacking it, making you release an embarrassingly airy moan. His teeth tug on your earlobe. “You like that?” 

You only nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Hmm?” He mumbles, continuing to lave over the skin behind your ear. His hand comes down on your ass again, harder this time. 

You let out a pathetic squeal and slam your hips down against him in search of some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. “Oh god—please fuck me—“

His mouth meets yours again. You can barely kiss him properly, panting about needing him to fuck you right now. 

He really is easy, you think, but it’s not like you have room to talk.

ᯓ

The first time Patrick Zweig sinks his cock into you, you’re on your knees, face pressed against your rug. The slam of his hips threaten to take your breath away as tears cling to your eyelashes. He’s rough, possessively grabbing your flesh with no regard for potential damage. When he experimentally grips your hair in his hand, tugging your head back gently, you see stars behind your clamped eyelids.

Patrick nearly whimpers at the way it makes you arch your back into his thrusts with increasing intensity. He groans something about you being a slut and fists your hair with less restraint. Your walls clench around him when he wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you to his chest. 

He grunts into your ear. “I knew you liked it rough, could tell from the first time I saw you.” 

The tears have started to spill now. Whether it’s from the humiliation or the utter ecstasy, you aren’t sure. All you know is that you almost sob when Patrick drags his tongue alongside your face, collecting the salty tears.

ᯓ

He buries himself inside you for a second time no more than twenty minutes after you’ve both cum. You gasp and claw at his back as his body presses you into your couch cushions.

You have to admit that Patrick knows how to fuck. Knows how to read your body, tapping into just the right frequency to get you off. 

It’s obvious that you’ve been craving this type of treatment from the way you’re responding to him. But you’re sure that he must have a sexual sixth sense because in the midst of fucking you wildly, he grabs your ankle that’s dangling by his ear, turns his head, and plants a sweet kiss to the bone. It makes you melt into the sofa. 

He leans down to shove his tongue into your open mouth. Softly pats your cheek, relishing in your cock drunk state. 

“Does he fuck you like this?” He murmurs into your neck.

You don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. 

“Huh?” He prods. 

You choke down a moan. “Better. He—“ You cry out when you feel him start rubbing harsh circles into your clit. “He fucks me better.” 

He huffs out a laugh through his smile, but his hips slam down harder as if he’s determined to change your answer. In less than a minute, you’re biting down on his shoulder when you feel another orgasm rack through your body. 

ᯓ

You take a longer break this time. Stopping to pour yourself a real glass of wine. One with its stem intact. Patrick lazily inhales from a cigarette as he watches you, with hooded eyes, attempt to hold a throw blanket over your bare torso. In contrast, he nonchalantly spreads his thighs over your couch, body on full display. 

His eyes leisurely meet yours. They shine prettily in the dim lighting of your home. His dark lashes flutter on each drag of his cig and it makes the corner of your mouth curve up when you take a sip. The lamps have cast a cozy shade of amber over the room. It blankets Patrick’s skin in a golden aura reminiscent of something being baked in an oven. 

Patrick reminds you of the gingerbread man, you think. It makes you press the tips of your fingers to your lips to stifle a giggle. 

He tilts his head at your odd behavior, but he assumes the weed must still be affecting you. 

Once you’ve placed your glass on the coffee table, and he’s put out his cigarette, Patrick is pulling you by the ankle, tossing your blanket to the side and kissing his way down your abdomen. 

You yelp when he captures one of your hard nipples in his mouth but let him press his hot kisses into your skin nonetheless. 

You end up cumming for the third time that night with his head buried between your legs. 

ᯓ

Patrick leaves while you’re asleep. 

When you wake up around 3am to an empty house, you think it’s for the best. You check your phone. You have a missed call from “a.d.” and a text from Patrick that says “had fun” with a winking emoji. You don’t respond to either, instead, opting to pad your bare feet to the bathroom. You desperately need a shower.

In the morning, you tidy up your home from the events of the night before, cringing at what took place on the terracotta colored sofa.

When the buzzing in your head doesn’t stop after cleaning your entire living room from top to bottom, you find yourself in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. 

You’re frantically kneading dough when the doorbell rings. You frown, not expecting company, but clean your hands as best you can as you make your way to open the door. Sometimes, your talkative neighbor, Mrs. Taylor, likes to come knocking on your door early in the mornings. 

You’re surprised to find that Art is standing on the other side with a latte and a bag containing a chocolate croissant. You assume it’s for you. He places his things down on the table by the door, the one that holds your catch all tray, and scoops you up into a hug. 

He groans into it, making you smile. “Hi,” you mumble into his chest. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” his voice comes out equally mumbled. “Missed you.” You can hear the grin in his tone. It makes your heart clench. 

You allow yourself to hold onto him, despite the ever present worry that you should be reining yourself in when it comes to him. He moves to let you go, grabbing your face in his palm and kissing the side of your head. You whine and lock your arms around his waist in protest. You inhale his scent, all warm and familiar. You’ve missed him. 

“Baby,” he laughs into your hair. You grunt, squeezing him tighter. “Okay, c’mere.” He pulls you into him, securely engulfing you in his arms. “I got you, I got you.” 

You eventually release him long enough to walk into your home. 

You’re relieved that you’d been overtaken by a cleaning spell this morning because you fear that Art might take one glance at your couch and figure out who had been here. That he’d smell him in the air. 

You’re afraid he might’ve detected it anyway when he freezes in the walkway separating your kitchen from the living room. You nibble on your lip as you try to search his body for any signs that he’s onto you. 

To your relief, Art is actually focused on the copious amounts of cookie dough you have on the counter of your kitchen island. He turns to you with the all knowing look of a father, his eyes creased with concern. “Oh no, what happened?” 

ᯓ

After a therapy session in which you decide to stop letting your ex influence your decisions from afar, you finally relent, allowing Art to begin practicing with Kaleb on their private tennis court. It seems like since you got involved with their family, that’s all you ever do, give in to everyone’s requests. In any other context, it would be disturbing, but the sight of Kaleb racing to the court with an oversized tennis bag fills you with joy. The bag threatens to pull him down, but his excitement keeps him upright as he makes a beeline for Art. 

You don’t know who’s more excited to see Art between the two of you. Your son’s tennis instructor waves at you from across the court. And you have to fight the rush that flows through you, threatening to cut off your oxygen, and give a simple wave in return. It makes you feel like a kid with a fervent crush. You could gag.

You remind yourself that you’re here for Kaleb. Not you.

You think that as long as you get to see him happy like that, you’d agree to anything. It’s a scary notion, but becoming a mom has made you aware of a lot of terrifying realities. 

ᯓ

It’s this maternal need to preserve your son’s happiness that leads you to another prolonged encounter with Tashi Duncan. She’d caught you when you were dropping him off for tennis lessons one day. Apparently, she had a free day. Lily was spending the day with her grandparents, and Patrick is, thankfully, nowhere to be found. You try to hide your relief when she tells you that. You don’t think you can face him right now. 

She insists you join her in their sunroom while the boys practice. You try to think of an excuse to turn her down, but you decide your karma from sleeping with her husband has built up too much to take the chance of tacking on more. So, when she offers to make you a cup of tea, you oblige and sink down into the fabric of a warm sofa.

When Tashi reappears, she sits down with a cup of steaming hot tea for the both of you. You thank her with a smile, letting your eyes trail over her figure. She looks ethereal. The sunlight pouring through the glass forms a halo of light around her, illuminating her like a Madonna painting. She has her hair pulled back into a low ponytail that causes her to have to tuck the loose strands behind her ear every now and then. The motion makes you take notice of her slim neck and the way her collarbones dip into her loose-fitted button down. Even dressed casually, she looks like a goddess. 

You feel your heart start to beat a little faster and reach to take a sip of your tea. You wonder how she knew that lavender chamomile was one of your favorites.

It’s only awkward for a moment because the two of you quickly fall into a conversation about what she’s missed now that Art has taken over attending the PTA meetings. That’s how you’d initially met her. She had actually been the one who you exchanged communication with about carpool and play dates. Art’s retirement allowed her to focus on tennis and other aspects of raising Lily that she preferred. You giggle when she admits that she never really liked those meetings anyway. You don’t tell her that you always had that inkling. 

When you mention that Cynthia is still advertising her knitting business at every single meeting, she sucks in a laugh before leaning toward you. She presses her lips together, holding in her giggle. “Guess what?”

You squint at her, your expression already anticipating a joke. “What?” You all but sputter out. 

“I’m probably responsible for like half the sales on her Etsy shop.” She says like she’s admitting to something top secret. It’s a lot like the expression Lily takes on when her and Kaleb are playing “secret agent.”

“Girl, what?” You didn’t think she’d be a fan of crocheted animal figures. 

“I ordered one for my mom for Mother’s Day,” she explains. “She fell in love with the thing I swear, thought it looked just like her little Yorkie, next thing you know she’s asking for the link to share with all her friends.” 

You’re snickering into your mug imagining Tashi unintentionally being Cynthia’s best saleswoman.

She smiles at you. “I’m serious. Apparently, amigurumi is the new thing. It’s gonna be flying off the shelves. That’s why I had to go ahead and put in my order.”

“Of course you know the official term.” You toss your head back. “What’s yours look like?” 

“It’s a little tabby cat,” she smiles wistfully. “Like the one I had growing up. Her name was Aphrodite.” 

It’s a fitting name.

You’re biting back a grin as you take a sip from your tea. You sigh at the taste. “How’d you know what type of tea I liked?” You ask absentmindedly. 

“Art mentioned it to me.” 

You freeze. “Art?” 

“Yeah he says you like to make it before bed. Now, he’s hooked on it.” 

All the blood in your body rushes to your head. You feel that unwelcome yet proverbial sinking in your gut. You think you might start projectile vomiting.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t respond. It’s hard to speak when you feel like you’re dangling upside down on a roller coaster.

“Wait… you didn’t think I knew did you?”

For some unintelligent reason, you decide to play stupid. Usually, in times of danger, humans resort to fight, flight, or freeze. You choose fucking idiot. “Knew what?”

“That you’re fucking my husband.” Tashi says quite unceremoniously.

“What—what do you mean?” You squeak out.

“Don’t.” She laughs. “I’ve known the whole time.” 

“How?” Your voice is shrinking smaller and smaller to your ears. The sound of Tashi’s voice, her pert laughter, drowning it out.

“Art tells me everything.”

“And you’re okay with it?” You attempt to ask though you can barely hear it.

You know your question reaches her ears because she shakes her head and tells you, “I suggested it.” 

Your eyes go wide. Her divulgence seems to propel you forward on your metaphorical roller coaster. In a snap, it brings you out of your stupor.

“I told Art that he should fuck you.” She says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s as simple as telling him to pick up some carry out on the way home. 

You’re confused, and your head is starting to hurt from the whiplash, and you wish this ride would end already. “I’m—I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

“Okay, well, Art’s been attracted to you since the day he met you,” she says plainly. “But he’d never actually do anything about it because that’s just who he is. He needed that push—“

“That push?”

She nods. “He needed to know he could do it and everything would be fine. He’s still figuring out how to be open to stuff like this.” She explains, gestures vaguely in the air. “He’d never break up what seemed like a happy marriage, but when it was clear that your marriage was far from happy…well he started to warm up to the idea.”

“What do you mean far from happy?” The shock has you feeling unreasonably defensive.

“Clearly something was off. You never seemed happy with him. You’ve said it yourself that he was a dick.”

“Um—okay, well, I’d say something has to be off if you’re coaching your husband into sleeping with unsuspecting women.” You shoot back. Your gaze is sharp and accusatory.

She lets her eyes fall down to her lap, picking at little buds of lint being exposed by the sun’s glow. “You’re right, something was off between us,” she says like it’s something in the past. Like maybe they’re good now, but at one time they weren’t. “But Art knows how I feel about him.” Then, her gaze returns to you. “Something tells me your husband either didn’t know or didn’t care.”

Her comment strikes a nerve. Chris did know something was off, and she was right, he didn’t care. He made you feel like needing more from him made you selfish. As if the reminder of the vows he made to you was an affront to him. He knew you were unhappy. That you felt ignored. But he didn’t care. When you’d served him the divorce papers, you naively thought that he’d realize what he might lose, that he might beg for your forgiveness, promise to be better. Instead, you watched him sign the document in the same way he’d signed receipts for dinner before closing the tab and tucking the pen inside. 

You think you envy her. Because she has a husband that actually doesn’t want to leave her. 

“Hey.” She grabs your attention. Her voice softens when she sees your glassy eyes peering back at her. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to offer an explanation.” 

You work to swallow down the onslaught of emotions threatening to rise up like bile. You release a fractured noise from your throat, letting the revelation fully soak in. “So you really knew this whole time then? Or rather you orchestrated it?” 

“Okay, that’s a little extreme,” she says. “When we found out you were getting divorced, I mentioned to Art that he should pursue you. That’s all.” She shrugs. “I never knew if he’d actually do it or when he’d do it. All I know is that the first night he came home smelling like you, he fucked me like he did when I first agreed to be his tennis coach.” 

“Then, he was constantly meeting up with you or staying to talk after PTA meetings,” her fingers curl to form quotations around the word, talk. “But I knew what was up.” She bites her lip. “It was honestly kind of hot.” 

You frown. The thought of him sleeping with her immediately after being with you has your stomach in knots. The worst part is that you can’t stop wondering if he’d showered first. If he’d cleaned himself up or if he’d went straight to her, buried himself inside her, cock still sticky with your fluids. In a way, it’s like you had also been inside her. If you think about it long enough, you can imagine what it must feel like. So, you don’t think about it. Instead, you fix your gaze on the golden pothos plant sitting on top a table to your right. The tapping of your nail against the ceramic mug fills the silence. 

She gives you a questioning look. 

Ignoring the implications of what she just told you, you settle for the anger you’re feeling instead of dwelling on any confusing arousal. “Do you not realize how fucked up this is, Tashi?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah! It’s fucked!” You throw your hands up. “I mean I’ve been running around feeling guilty, thinking I was a fucking homewrecker while the two of you get off on a cheating kink!”

She can tell you have more to say, so she leans back and lets you go on.

“I mean how could you do that? I was fucking depressed.”

She snorts. “Not so depressed that it ruined your libido. You two have been going at it like rabbits.” Her smirk makes your cheeks burn. 

You place your mug down onto the table. “Wow. You know what?” You’re on the edge of the couch now, body rigid. “You and Art can go fuck yourselves! This is seriously messed up.”

She raises her eyebrows. “As messed up as you fucking another woman’s husband?” 

Her words drip with mirth, and it pisses you off that the fiery look in her eyes is poking at a budding desire in your belly. “This is ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself. You’d rather focus all your energy on being outraged than interrogate why this is kind of turning you on. You’re about to stand up to leave when she places a hand on your arm.

“Are you seriously mad right now?” She asks you. 

An incredulous look takes over your face. “What do you think?” You spit out.

“Well, would you have preferred I not know?” She asks as if you’re the crazy one here.

“I—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, and try to gather your thoughts. “Obviously not, Tashi.” You glance up to the glass paned ceiling. “I just—it would’ve been nice to know what was really going on. I mean he never even told me that you knew.”

“Well, did you ask?” She asks simply. 

Did you? You think back to the past couple of months. The more you and Art hooked up, the more you avoided directly mentioning Tashi. He didn’t bring her up more than what was necessary, so you suspected he was actively trying to keep it from her. 

To be fair, he did mention a couple of times that he’d told Tashi you two were going to meet up for lunch, but you thought he must’ve been leaving out the activities that followed. And if she happened to call him while the two of you were together, he would casually tell her he was with you. You obviously assumed he was downplaying your friendship because there was no way Art would be so nonchalant about a mistress. But, apparently, the word mistress didn’t even apply to you. 

“I mean, I guess I didn’t.” You stammer. “But I feel like that was on him to bring it up to me.”

“Well that’s where you went wrong. Art can get in his own way sometimes.” A pensive expression works it’s way onto her face. “Or maybe part of him did kind of get off on feeling like he was sneaking around.” The thought seems to bring a small smile to her face. 

It still doesn’t make sense to you. You try to tamper down the sinking feeling that you’ve been nothing more than a pawn. “I just don’t understand why you two couldn’t proposition me like a normal couple looking for a third,” you say.

“Who said you were our third?” 

“Oh, so there’s other women you’ve sent Art to fuck?”

“No. I—I don’t just pimp out my husband, okay?”

You back down.

“We already have a…third I guess.”

You look at her with furrowed brows. 

“Patrick.” She answers.

“Patrick? Like Patrick Patrick?”

She nods.

You laugh cynically. You didn’t think this situation could get any worse.

“I know.” She sighs. “I know how it seems—”

“Was that part of the plan too?” You’re out of breath, chest heaving. 

She looks genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“Me and Patrick,” you blurt. 

“Wait a minute, you’re sleeping with Patrick?” She’s scooting closer to you. 

You shake your head. “It just happened once.” You think of how he’d shoved your face into the rug, fucking into you as he grunted out various obscenities. “I was high. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

She looks away for a moment, brows drawn together tightly. She’s piecing together what you’ve told her. 

“I—I didn’t know he was with you guys,” you try. 

She waves you off. “No, it’s not that.” She sits back. “I’m just not surprised that he wormed his way into your pants. He just couldn’t take that Art had something to himself.” She’s speaking to you, but her eyes are trained ahead. 

“So, you really didn’t set that up too?” You ask meekly. 

“God, no!” She says. “I had no idea.” 

You believe her. 

“Look I don’t care what type of weird shit you tennis players are into, if you guys have wild orgies or whatever. I just would’ve liked to have known that I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite?”

You nod. “I mean I sit here and give my ex shit for cheating on me with that skinny ass whore from Modesto. Hell! That’s why I got so much fucking alimony.” You’re rambling now. “And, then, I go and let Art fucking Donaldson screw me and then send him back home to play loving father and husband like it’s nothing. God! And on top of it all, I also sleep with his best friend! I became the whore from Modesto.” 

Tashi’s watching you like you’re a kid experiencing big feelings.

“I felt like a home wrecker.” You sniff. “But apparently I’m actually not…because it was your idea, well only Art, not Patrick, and I—it’s all just fucking with my head.”

Tashi swallows. “I honestly thought you’d be relieved to find out.”

She looks at the frown on your face, takes in the way your plump bottom lip is jutting out. She reaches for your hand. “We’ve never really been the best at communicating. Me and Art. For the past year or so, we’ve gotten better at talking to each other, being honest about what we want, but we’re still working on doing that with other people I guess.” You let her thumb rub the back of your hand before you gently pull away. 

You grab your mug again. The handle is cold to the touch. 

“I promise we didn’t mean to fuck with you. Honestly, I think Art really likes you.” She offers you a small smile.

You look into your mug trying to still your reaction. You don’t care. 

Tashi’s gaze feels heavy on the side of your face as you feel her watching your expression. You start to fiddle with your watch. Checking for the time. Except your watch is too busy displaying your increased heart rate to offer the time. 

You sigh. 

She reaches out to you again, but this time she brings her hand up to your face, moving the curls falling down over your eyes. You let her nimble fingers caress your cheekbone before trailing down to your chin, guiding you to look at her. 

She gives you a steady, knowing smile. “You fell for him didn’t you?” 

Your cheeks go ablaze, and you try to look away from her. 

“Hey.” She grasps your chin in a firm, but gentle hold. “It’s okay.” She nods as if it’ll telepathically make you agree. 

You clear your throat. “I know you say that, but this is all new to me.” Your voice is slightly wobbly and you think you might cry. “I—I didn’t think it’d happen but it did. I thought I could get him out of my system but now,” you inhale and press two fingers against your neck, subconsciously trying to self-soothe. “Now, it’s like—it’s like I can’t stop.” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper. Like you’re afraid to admit the truth. 

And, really, you are afraid. You’re fucking terrified. 

You’re scared to fall in love with a man who already has one—two people in his life that he’s in love with. The last time you entrusted a man with your love, he was only meant to love you, and he couldn’t even give you that. 

What if you realize you’re absolutely enamored by Art Donaldson and he realizes the same thing Chris did? That there’s something about you that makes you unworthy of love. That the depth of you is as deep as your cunt goes and that’s it. 

What if he realizes that he already has what he needs in Tashi, even Patrick? What if they realize they actually aren’t willing to share?

You apparently voice the last bit aloud.

Tashi tilts her head, some of her strands have fallen loose again and she wears the prettiest pout on her lips. “Do you want me to prove it to you?” 

You gulp when her hand presses into your thigh, and she brings her face impossibly close to yours, forcing you to hold her gaze. “You want me to prove that I’m okay with it?” Her eyes flit between each one of yours with a level of seriousness you’d expect from someone like her. 

Her expression demands an answer, and so, you give a faint nod, transfixed on the woman in front of you. 

You gasp when you feel her mouth on yours. 

You learn that Tashi tastes sweet when she has her tongue in your mouth. You think you can taste the tartness of the lemon she’d sucked on earlier. It’s good, and you realize you’re fucked because you really like kissing her. 

Her tongue twirling around yours has you panting quietly, and you keen when you feel her manicured nails press into the nape of your neck. You haven’t kissed a woman since your last girlfriend in college, and you find you miss it. Something about it feels like drinking sweet tea on a hot summer day. Climbing into cool sheets at night when you’re bone tired. Or the feeling you get when you discover the song that you’re going to replay for the next week. 

It also makes you feel absurdly wet. 

The two of you work up a rhythm of pulling away for a breath before coming back together like magnets, letting your foreheads gently press together as you breathe deeply, thumbs caressing skin, eyelids fluttering. 

Your tongue is sweeping across Tashi’s lip, on a path to enter her mouth again, when you hear someone clear their throat. 

There’s an audible smack as you yank yourself from Tashi, eyes flying to the doorway of their sunroom. 

Art is standing there staring at you, gaze shifting from your face to the hand you still have placed on his wife’s neck. His jaw is clenched, and his bulge is painfully evident in his pants. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I've been waiting for this since the first post. Let me know how you feel about the reveal <3 as always, my asks are open!

[ifwdominicfike]

spencer seems to be more interested in his crossword puzzle than his own girlfriend.

── .✦. ──

a week he was gone. a whole week on a case — and the first thing he does when he gets home is his stupid crossword puzzle. is he serious right now?? when he came through the door you were met with his disheveled, tired figure.

he dragged his way over to couch, settling in the corner with a news paper in hand and a focused expression. you missed him bad, you wanted to run your way over to him and kiss his pretty, pouty lips.

its been almost an hour and he’s still sitting there, making it seem like you weren’t even home. you did try to get his attention but you were only met with dry responses like a simple yes, no or a tired hum. “baby y’want anything to eat? i can order your favoriteee” you drag out the word to break the awkward silence. “no im okay” he mumbled before going back to his paper.

you scoff at his obliviousness, is he doing this on purpose or is he really that dumb? you roll your eyes as you flop down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for about 10 minutes until you got bored once again. you huff out a breath before making your way to the living room.

peaking around the corner to see if he was still there or not — he was. you make your way towards him, plopping down on the couch. you let out an exaggerated sigh while resting your head on his shoulder, looking up at him as he’s still focused on the puzzle. “whats wrong?” he asks, his gaze finally shifting to you.

“just missed you s’all” you begin shuffle around getting up from the couch. “but you seem to be busy so i’ll go back to the ro-“ your cut off by spencer grabbing your wrist and lightly pulling you back. “woah woah, where y’going?” he asks confused. “going back to the room? don’t you have your crossword to finish, old man?” once you’re out of his hold you make your way back to the room.

“baby come on don’t be like that-“ he stops when he finds you “asleep” cuddled in the comforter. “i know you’re not asleep” you hear the smirk in his tone but you don’t make it known that you’re awake. “come on sweet girl, m’sorry” he slips under the sheets and pulls you against his chest “please? i’ll make it up to you, okay?” he continues, you couldn’t take not talking to him so you swiftly turn around and straddle his lap.

“woah-“ before he could get another word out you shush him by putting a finger against his lips “no more talking love, just need you..” you duck down and bring your lips to his, his hands for your hips as he smiles into the kiss. “fuck- i love you”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

first spencer fic!!! i love this man sooo much ughhahsjsj you would have to pry this man from my cold dead hands. anyway!! i hope you enjoy <33 @her-favorite tagging you since you LOVE this man as much as i do 😽😽

also lmk if you would like to be put onto my spencer taglist!! and lmk if you don’t wanna be tagged in spencer fics and only in sturniolo fics :P (or if you’re fine with being in both 😭)

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Family breakfast

Hii guyss, here's a new one-shot about Toto. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist :)

A quiet morning turns into delightful chaos when you discover your husband and son’s surprise gone awry. This leads to a heartwarming family moment filled with laughter and love.

The first thing you notice as you wake is the stillness. Normally, the house would already be alive with the sounds of your son, Jack, running down the hallway, his little feet pounding against the floor. The absence of that familiar noise pulls you from your dreams. And then it hits you: Toto isn’t beside you either. He always stays a little longer in the mornings, kissing your forehead softly before slipping out of bed. But today, nothing.

You sit up, pushing the blankets aside as you glance at the empty spot beside you, feeling a small pang of curiosity. Throwing on a cozy sweater, you pad down the hallway toward the faint smell of… something. It’s not exactly appetizing, but it is familiar. There’s flour in the air, a hint of chocolate, and unmistakably… burnt something.

Rounding the corner, you arrive at the kitchen doorway and pause, stifling a laugh at the scene in front of you. The kitchen is in absolute disarray: flour streaks cover the countertops, bits of batter have splattered on the walls, and your husband and son are standing there, Jack on his stool next to Toto, both looking down at what appears to be a very charred attempt at pancakes.

They’re completely unaware of you watching them, too focused on the burnt batch in front of them.

“Maybe if we put enough syrup on them, she won’t notice,” you hear Jack say in a serious tone, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he looks up at Toto. Toto raises a brow, giving him a playful smile. “You think that’ll work?”

“Well, it works when you make toast,” Jack whispers back, eyes glinting with the wisdom of his young mind.

You clear your throat, unable to hold back a chuckle any longer, and they both spin around, caught red-handed. Jack’s face lights up in that special way, a smile spreading wide across his cheeks as he shouts, “Mama! We were trying to surprise you!”

Toto laughs, raising his flour-covered hands in surrender. “Our plan may not have gone exactly as we hoped,” he admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Turns out we’re not quite as skilled as you when it comes to pancakes.”

You take a few steps forward, pretending to survey the kitchen with a critical eye, your gaze landing on the plate of charcoal-colored pancakes. “Well,” you say, folding your arms in mock seriousness, “it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Jack laughs, his pride undented as he stands tall on his stool. “I helped with the mixing, Mama! But the flipping is hard.”

Toto nods, pretending to look solemn. “It really is harder than it looks. I think we’re going to need some expert intervention here.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, feigning skepticism. “Do you think you two can handle working as my assistants?”

Jack nods so vigorously his little curls bounce. “Yes, yes! I’ll mix it all again!”

You smile, grabbing an apron for yourself and tying it around your waist before stepping forward, guiding them both in their roles. Jack is in charge of mixing the batter again, but this time, you make sure to guide him a little more closely. His giggles are infectious as he watches the lumps disappear, proudly showing you his work. Toto tries to take charge of flipping once more, insisting he’s got it this time, only for a pancake to land halfway on the counter, sending Jack into fits of laughter.

Eventually, after much laughter and a few (successful) pancake flips, you plate the perfect stack, golden and warm. You bring it to the table, setting out butter and syrup while Jack bounces over to his spot, already piling syrup on his stack.

You all sit down together, and Jack digs in immediately, a trail of syrup dribbling down his chin as he takes his first big bite. Toto gives your hand a gentle squeeze under the table, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he leans close, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think next time, we’ll let you be the head chef from the start.”

“Or maybe,” you tease, glancing at the two of them, “we keep it a team effort. But maybe a slightly less… chaotic team effort?”

Jack, overhearing, looks up with a big grin. “Family team!” he declares proudly, raising his fork in a sticky salute. You and Toto laugh, clinking your forks with his in agreement.

The three of you linger over breakfast, taking your time with each bite, sharing stories and laughter as the sun streams softly through the kitchen windows. There’s something magical about this moment, the simplicity of syrup-sticky hands and flour-dusted counters. Sitting here with Jack’s joyful giggles and Toto’s quiet warmth beside you, you can’t help but feel a deep, overflowing gratitude for mornings like this—messy, beautiful, and shared with the two people who mean everything to you.

[planetpedri]

idk if you’re hispanic/latino buttttt i NEED a pedri fic based off the song la santa by bad bunny (if you don’t know spanish you can just translate it and it’ll work jst fine) tyyyy i loveee ur work 🫶🫶

La santa — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You weren’t supposed to fall in love with Pedri, but it happened nonetheless. You knew what you were getting into when it all started and you both knew despite nothing ever going further than casual, you would always come running back.

Word count: 710

Disclaimer/s: Slightly Suggestive (?) , angst

A/N: OOOOH this song is lowk girl i’m nodding my head thank yew. i also really had no clue how to go about this .. i actually hate it so much sorry this was so bummy

Pedri was dressing quickly. Too quickly. You knew you shouldn’t have even proposed the idea of taking the relationship or… whatever you could call it, further. He always got jumpy when you’d ask for him to stay even a few extra minutes.

You leaned back against the headboard, a frown planted tightly against your lips as you watched him zip up his jeans. “Jesus christ, Pedri. It was a simple suggestion! You’re acting like I told you I was pregnant.”

The mans eyes widen as they shoot in your direction, “you aren’t.. pregnant. Right?” That elicited a loud groan from your lips.

“Oh lord.” You rub your temples before looking back to him. He still wore the same expression, nearly making you laugh as you shake your head. “No! I am not.”

“Thank God.” He huffs, reaching for his t-shirt.

You chew on your bottom lip, suddenly annoyed. “You know what? This has to stop. For good.” He continued dressing like you weren’t even speaking, so you add, “I’m serious.”

Pedri sighs, tugging the shirt over his head. “You said that last week, last month, and matter of fact, two days ago. You know damn well it’s not stopping.” His lip twitches at the corners, a smug grin forming ever so slowly.

That just furthered your annoyance because, unfortunately, it was the truth. It also pissed you off because if he’d just take you seriously and stayed away, you wouldn’t crawl back to him every time.

You’d tried to stop sending him that text or responding to his, but you were weak. Your resistance only lasted about five minutes before you caved. You simply couldn’t stay away from Pedri.

“It’s different this time, and you know it! I can’t wait around for you to feel—“

“Woah!” His hands shoot up, stopping you mid sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Your lips clamp shut and your arms cross over your chest. “Well—“

“Cariño, you know it’ll never be reciprocated. You knew this the second we started the whole thing! Cut the lovey dovey act, I don’t need you doing that because I don’t know how to reciprocate it.” He finishes his rant, running a hand over his face as if the whole conversation was one big inconvenience.

Pedri leaned against the wall a few feet from your bedroom door, antsy for an escape yet also not wanting to leave you pissed off at him.

“This was only meant to be a fun thing.” He adds once the silence became deafening.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you frown. “Why though? Why is it such a terrible concept? You care about a lot of things, a lot of people, why would it be so different?”

His eyes dart to the door, he really needed to get out of here. “You know why. Just.. let’s keep this going and you’ll get over it, no? Why are you trying to mess with something thats fine just as it is?”

You were desperately trying to ignore the way your stomach churned at his words. The more he talked, the more you felt your heart sink. You knew damn well there was no changing Pedri and you most definitely knew better than to even have a sliver of hope.

“You’re right.” You finally force out, “no, yeah. I’m sorry I even thought about it.”

The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. Pedri heard it loud and clear and he almost felt guilty. Almost. But at the end of the day, he’d told you how he felt about relationships at the beginning of it all. He knew and you knew, exactly where he stood.

“I’ll see you when I get back from Sevilla, okay?” Pedri sighs, pushing himself off the wall.

Not daring to look at him, you stay quiet for a moment. A weak attempt at pushing him away, but you were just that. Weak.

“Yeah.” You huff, “make sure you lock the door on the way out.”

Pedri lifts one hand as a parting gesture, but you don’t return it and he leaves anyways. He leaves you feeling like an absolute idiot because you know when you get the text that he’s back in town, you’ll be waiting right where he left you.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, specific or all.

DTS , @halfwayhearted , @spidybaby , @gadriezmannsgirl !

[ecklekecle]

HEADCANON i think Regulus was a happy baby compared to Sirius. Like, imagine this, i think Sirius was the type of baby who would cry non-stop, no matter what his parents did, he would cry and whine and do what babies do yk, and was just a difficult baby to take care of in general, but Regulus on the other hand was a happy, giggling, smiling baby. And like, this dynamic would continue into when they were kids. Regulus would find Sirius hilarious, and would follow him around everywhere. Regulus would probably have one of those really contagious laughs that are like, you know when kids laugh? and they're giggling and can't breathe, it's like that. And I feel like Sirius would always be causing trouble, but not because he hates his parents, not yet anyway, but because as an older sibling, he likes to show Regulus that he's cool and he wants Regulus to look up to him.

Now when Sirius goes to Hogwarts, Regulus laughs less cause their no more happiness in the house, but it's back when Sirius comes back of course, and tell's Regulus all the things that happened. But once Regulus goes to hogwarts (and gets sorted into slytherin) they start talking less, even at home. Sirius starts rebelling more, and Regulus starts to keep more to himself, mental health definitely getting worse. Even around his friends he never lets himself go and laugh like he used to, they only get a chuckle or two, and thats on his good days. And during his school years, before getting the dark mark, he would just continue to shield himself from others, creating a cold personaity for himself to keep others away, though his friends knew the "real" him. But as his parents got worse, and Sirius left home for the Potter's, he got worse mentally and physically as he kept himself safe from his parents.

When he gets the dark mark, and he's finally alone and spiralling, he just lets out a hysterical laugh and there's no more of the childhood innocence and no more joy in the laugh, it's just filled with anguish as he as he tries to hold back tears annd sobs by laughing. yeah And then he yk dies

But to add to this imagine all their relatives knowing Regulus and his laugh and like, their cousins loved making little Regulus laugh and while Sirius was the moody one yk But in hogwarts everyone knows Sirius Black. He's charismatic and whatever but everyone questions how he's even related to Regulus. If they didn't look so alike, no one would even guess they were related.

I guess there could be a happier side to this (if ur a jegulus fan), as he and james start to talk adn get moore serious yk. even tho Regulus won't admit it, James makes him laugh. With James, Regulus can relax and laugh like a child again, and it sounds just as it did when he was younger, filled with joy and the childhood innocence he thought he had lost. And then he reconnects with his brother and they all live happily ever after the end :0

someone's probably already talked about this but i thought it would be interesting especially since younger regulus contrasts older regulus, and vice vera with sirius but also sirius and regulus contrasts each other. parallels or whatever i might just be using words to seem smart lol the black brother just make me sick i love them sm this idea just came to my head as i once again procrastinated studying but luckily exams are over now so yippee?

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Longing Looks to Something More

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> You and Tyler have been friends for a long time, but one day things begin to change.

Disclaimer: Steamy moments, swearing, fluffy moments, oblivious idiots in love, love confessions (kinda), lots of pining. Not Proof Read.

You heard his boots scuffing the barn floor before he pulled out a chair next to your desk. 

“Here.” Looking up, you found where he’d placed a fresh cup of tea beside you. “It’s too late for coffee, and Cathy said it’s good for sleep.”

“I don’t need sleep.” You lifted the mug. “But thank you.”

Tyler sat back in his chair, watching you as you went back to your work. You’d been sitting at that desk since four o’clock in the afternoon, and that hour was long gone. 

“When was the last time you got some decent shut eye?” Tyler asked, picking up a folder you’d finished looking at so he could make the conversation feel less like an interrogation. 

He smiled as he saw the small scribbled in the margins. 

“Before college properly.”

He shut the document. “I’m being serious, Y/n.”

“So am I,” you said, holding in a laugh. But then he gave you the look. 

Sighing, and relaxing your shoulders, you leaned to look at him. “I appreciate your concern, Ty, I really do. But I’m okay. I promise.”

He watched you for a moment before taking half of the scribbled notes from you and using the folder as something to lean on. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, watching him. 

“Helping.”

“Tyler-”

He looked at you. “You need sleep and I’m not leaving until you do. And that won’t be until you finish. Twice the people, half the work.”

You would have fought him on it, but in truth, you’d spent so much time looking at the calculations and data you thought you were starting to think in them, instead of words. 

And he was right. 

Whatever work you’d been distracting yourself with was as wrapped up as it could be until you gathered some more data. And by the looks of it, the tea was working. You’d been giving into your yawns rather than trying to fight them off. 

Tyler had seen you do this for years. He was just glad they had Kate’s barn to work out of when chasing. You all finally had a home base now. 

“Right, come on.”

Tyler practically hauled you from your seat. 

“Bedtime.”

It was easier than previous nights to get you to move away from your work and head down to the farm house. There were three places to sleep on the farm. Inside the main house, which was where Kate stayed with Cathy and someone else would take the guest room. Then there was the guest house, with a couple different rooms which everybody had slept in at least once. Whoever fell asleep first, got the first pick of a room. Then there was the smaller guest house. It had one bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, a small sitting room and enough of a wooden stand in the back to be considered a porch. 

That was where you and Tyler would be tonight since you were the last to go to bed. 

“I brought your stuff down here earlier. I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

“Okay,” you yawned. 

By the time you’d gotten dressed in your pyjamas, these days consisted of a random t-shirt which you were sure had belonged to one of the boys at some point, and cotton shorts. You joined Tyler in the bathroom, brushing your teeth whilst he washed his face. 

Turning off the bath tap, he wrung out the face cloth before throwing it over the towel rail to dry. 

“Come on.” 

Finally rinsing out your mouth, you heard the clink of your toothbrush in the cup and wiped your mouth. 

Tyler’s hand hovered by your hip as he led you out of the bathroom, turning the light off behind him, across the small living room and into the bedroom. 

By that point, Tyler had practically wrangled and tucked you into bed before laying down beside you. For years, you’d shared a bed. You’d both shared a bed at least three times with each member of the crew. There was always a motel somewhere that didn’t have enough space. 

So it didn’t freak you out to think you’d be sharing a bed with Tyler. 

By the time the lights cut out, it wasn’t long before you were fast asleep. 

When you woke up, you felt secure. Like you’d been wrapped in a weighted blanket. Only when you opened your eyes did you realise it was Tyler’s arms. With your back against his chest, his arms held you securely against him. He was fast asleep. His breathing even, soft snores coming from him as he held onto you for dear life. 

It took you a minute but you eventually pulled yourself from his arms and headed for the bathroom. By the time you’d finished, you could hear him walking around the place before you heard the pans being moved around. 

He was making breakfast. 

“Hey.” 

Tyler looked over his shoulder as he scrambled the eggs. “Hey, how’d you sleep?”

“Good. Better than college.”

Tyler smiled. “Good. Eggs’ll be done soon.”

“Thanks. Want some coffee?”

Tyler nodded and you started brewing it from the pot, grabbing two mugs and setting them beside each other. 

After breakfast and coffee, Tyler headed for a shower and you got changed into some fresh clothes. You’d also found his inside one of the closets so, after pulling back the bed covers, you laid his clothes out at the foot of the bed. 

“Hey, Ty? I’m gonna head up to-”

You’d been focusing on tying the bottom of your shirt up as you walked the short distance out of the bedroom and past the sofa, ready to call through the door to him. However, without looking up, you ran into something. 

At first, you figured it was the door, but when the door suddenly grew arms, steadied you and spoke, you realised what had actually happened. 

Stood, his waist wrapped in a towel, his hair still dripping a little from the water, Tyler had opened the door. 

And there you stood, suddenly dumbfounded, in his arms, unsure of what to do. 

“Uhh, sorry. I-I didn’t.” Your mind seemed to take a mental picture of the Tyler that stood in front of you in that moment, and for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why. 

“You okay?”

Clearing your throat, you stepped back and out of his grasp. “Yea-yep. Yes. All good. I was just gonna…”

You forced yourself to look at his face before he thought you were checking him out. 

“I was gonna head up to the barn. I’ve, uhh, I’ve left your stuff in..in the bedroom.”

You started to make a break for it towards the front door and Tyler remained in his position, watching you. 

“Sure you’re okay?”

You nodded firmly. “Just peachy.”

Tyler couldn’t help but smile a little as he watched you leave after getting so flustered. But, shaking his head, he turned back towards the bedroom. He hadn’t meant for that to happen, but something inside of him was glad it did. 

The rest of the day, you tried to keep your mind focused on your tasks rather than constantly replaying what had happened that morning. Tyler. His arms. His grip. His body. His eyes. His voice. Him. 

None of that was helped when you saw him walking up the small hill towards the barn, his wranglers being filled in all the right places. 

“Stop it.” You told yourself over and over and over again. Even more so when he leaned over you from behind your chair, asking about the data collection. How was it that a man could still smell so good hours after taking a shower? Immediately, your mind projected the towel-wrapped image of him from that morning. 

“Stop it.”

Tyler hummed a response, not having heard you. 

“Nothing,” you brushed it off. And he just shrugged. 

However, you weren’t the only one confused by your sudden replay of the morning going over in your head. 

“Stare at her any longer and somebody might think you’re in love.” 

Tyler turned and looked back at Dexter. “What are you talking about?”

Dexter smiled. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her. If you’re not looking around this barn for her, you’re looking at her.”

“No, I’m not.” Tyler tried to laugh it off. But then he found himself looking back at you. Your reaction to him coming out of the shower kept playing on his mind. As did the feeling of you being in his arms this morning before he woke up again. 

Standing and leaning behind you as you sat at your desk allowed for your shampoo to fill his senses. And it took him right back to being in bed with you after ushering you to bed. He’d woken up just a little before the sun had come up. His arms were already around you, but he wouldn’t have moved in fear of waking you considering you were holding his arms to you. 

Calming himself down, your shampoo filled his senses and imprinted the feeling and image of you in his mind. So, when he stood with you, that feeling came right back. 

He must have fallen back to sleep, too, because when he woke up, he heard the sink running in the bathroom. 

“Dex, can I ask you something?”

“Sure. So long as it’s not how to read Y/n’s handwriting. What does this even say?”

Leaning over him, Tyler read it. “Continued on page five.”

Dexter nodded, a little shocked. “What’s your question?”

“When…” He looked back at you for a moment before tearing his gaze away. “When do you know something is changing?”

“Is this about you and Y/n? Because I have to say, I think you might be the last to know.”

“What?”

Dexter started listing things off. “The way you look at her? The way she looks at you? The fact you’re the only one she’ll listen to, or you’re the only one who can read her handwriting?”

Tyler shrugged. “You get used to it after a while. But, I…”

“Did something happen?”

Tyler shook his head. “Technically, no.”

“But you wish it had?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know if I did or not. We’re friends. We’ve only ever been friends. Why would things start changing now?”

“Maybe now is the time.” Dexter said. “It’s like you say, a tornado is part science, part religion. Some things, or at least part of them, can’t always be explained. You and Y/n have a deep connection. You’re friends. Maybe now it’s time to explore things further.”

Taking one final look over at you, Tyler didn’t know what to do. 

“Maybe.”

Tyler wrestled with the idea for a week or more. You’d both been friends for a long time. And, sure. Maybe he’d checked you out once or twice over the years. He wasn’t blind. You were beautiful. Why you were still single baffled him. And, yeah, maybe he’d felt a little jealous when someone from a bar would ask you to dance with them. But that didn’t mean he was catching feelings, did it?

Except, the longer time went on, the more he could feel them becoming more noticeable. He kept catching himself looking at you throughout the day, His heart and stomach kept doing a weird ‘hop, skip and jump’ thing every time he saw you. Except, it had started to be whenever he even thought about you. Whenever he saw you in one of the guy’s t-shirts that wasn’t his, he felt a pang in his chest, but when he saw you in his…he had to leave the room for fear of the extent of his emotions showing up in front of everyone. 

And just when he thought he was getting better at hiding his feelings, Boone asked him a question. 

“When are you gonna ask her out, dude?”

Tyler, who had been on the roof of his truck since you got back from another tornado chase, stopped what he was doing and looked down at Boone. 

“What?”

Pausing where he was in the book you had given him only a few hours ago to keep him occupied, Boone looked at Tyler. “You’ve been watching her all day.”

Tyler looked back at his work, rather than back at you. You were a short way across the farm, helping haul some bags of feed from the truck and into the barn. 

“No, I haven’t.”

Boone just laughed. “Come on, man. We all see it. Hell, I’ve seen it since you first met her. D’you know you get this funny look on your face when you look at her? Had it then, have it now. Just louder.”

Tyler just shook his head and mumbled; “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

This time, Boone stood up. “You’re my brother, Tyler. So I’m gonna tell you straight. You’re in love with, Y/n. So rather than sitting here, thinking about her. Go over there and do something about it. Or else Me and Lily are gonna have to start watching Parent Trap to take some more notes.”

Tyler looked back at Boone. “More notes?”

Boone cleared his throat and shook his head, scuffing his feet on the ground. If Tyler or you knew the lengths they’d gone through to get either one of you this far…

“Dude, just ask her out.” 

As he went and sat back down, he watched Tyler look back down the field towards you. Except, that was interrupted by Dani and Dexter heading up the road. 

It was from their announcement that everyone found themselves getting dressed up to head to the local bar for a night of country dancing. 

However, that caused one problem. 

Tyler. 

Smelling just as he did a few weeks ago when you ran into his freshly showered, towel-wrapped body. 

Filling out his jeans in all the right places. 

With a crisp white t-shirt. 

And you caught him from the moment he’d taken his backwards cap off his head, throwing it onto his dash and pulling his cowboy hat out, fixing it onto his head. 

And the way he was looking at you as you walked down the steps of the house, dressed in your only pair of denim shorts that didn’t need washing, a t-shirt you’d borrowed from Kate since the one you planned on wearing still had motor oil on from when you were helping Dani with the camper, and an oversized checked shirt, along with your cowboy boots; it was giving you more ideas than you needed in your head when it came to Tyler. 

 “Ready to go?”

Tyler had to look away from you, letting his gaze land on his feet as he nodded and opened up his passenger door for you. “Yep.”

For a moment, you could have sworn he looked nervous. But considering you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him any longer than a second and a half in fear he’d see exactly what you were thinking when you looked at him, you couldn’t be sure. 

And when he grabbed your hand half way through the night to bring you onto the dance floor, holding you close to him as you both two-stepped across the old wooden floor, those feelings that had been bubbling inside you for weeks; you could feel them pouring over whatever container you tried to shove them into. 

The feeling of his hand on your lower back, the feeling of his hand in yours, the feeling you got when he looked at you, and the way his voice sounded, so close to your ear. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” 

“It’s kinda personal.”

You were confused. “Okay?”

Now he just had to find the last shreds of courage to ask you. “Is something…has something…between you and me…is there…”

Each time he said a word, your head rushed around the million different things he was trying to ask you. 

“Just spit it out, Tyler.”

“Do you like me?”

No. I love you. 

“How’d you mean?” You asked. 

Tyler had a few seconds to think how to phrase his question as he spun you out before pulling you back. 

“Like, more than usual.”

Now he was starting to confuse himself. “I just…am I imagining things here, or is something…different? Between us, I mean.”

It was your chance to think. Had he been feeling it too? The way the room felt a lot more claustrophobic, in the good way, when it was just you two? Did he feel your touch as strongly in his bones as you did? Did he…did he love you the same way you did for him?

“It’s just…I feel like I woke up one morning and…I don’t know. You’re the person I’d talk to about this kinda stuff, so…I just thought I’d ask you about this, too. Is there…Is there something changing between us?”

The song slowed and you were completely against Tyler, standing in his space as he stood in yours. Looking up at him and meeting his green eyes, you told him the truth. 

“I think it already has.”

From the table in the corner, the others watched you and Tyler slow down and just simply look at each other. 

“Think he finally told her?” Lily asked, turning to the other hoping they saw what she did. 

“I think she told him.” Dani said, grabbing a handful of chips. 

“I think they’ve just told each other.”

Everyone looked at Dexter before turning to look back at you and Tyler on the dancefloor. 

You watched as Tyler registered everything you said and after an eternity, he looked up and around the room. You didn’t know what or who he was looking for, but after another moment, he grabbed your hand. 

“Come with me.”

You led you towards the back of the bar and out of the doors, the cold air hitting both of you all at once. The sound of the music and people drowned out as the door swung shut behind you both. 

“Ty, where are we-”

Swinging you around, you felt Tyler stop you in your tracks before he looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

From day one of meeting Tyler, you knew you could trust him. And you knew you always would. 

Brushing the hair from your face, he seemed to finally breathe. And you slowly leaned into his touch. “Y/n…”

He swallowed nervously before asking the question that had been on his mind since the first time he’d woken up with you in his arms. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Drawing his eyes from your lips, he looked into yours. You knew if you said no, he would walk away. He wouldn’t question you, he wouldn’t push. 

But you wanted him to. 

“Yes.”

“Are you su-”

You cut him off, standing a little higher on your toes, you took his face into your hands and pulled him in to kiss you. His hands held you steady at your hips before snaking around your body and holding you flush against him whilst your own arms did the same around his neck. 

Parting for a breath, Tyler’s hands were quick to lift you up and you locked your ankles around his hips before your back was up against the cold brick wall. 

A small moan left your lips which forced Tyler to pull his lips from yours for a moment. 

“Are you okay?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Cowboy.”

Tyler smirked with a small chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”

One hand holding you under your ass and another pushing through your hair, Tyler kissed you as if your life depended on it. 

You died with his kiss, and he brought you back with the next. God, you never wanted it to end. 

However, it was forced when you both heard the back door to the bar swing open and crash against the wall before a pair of drunk laughs getting closer. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t anyone on the team. Otherwise you and Tyler would have been caught in a very compromising position considering you could feel all of Tyler against your body at that moment. 

Looking back at you with a half drunk smile, which you were sure you owned the other half to, Tyler kissed you quickly once more. Before giving you another, and another and another as you slowly unhooked your legs from him and he lowered you to the ground. 

“We better get back inside.”

You smiled. “I think the others already have an idea on what we’re doing out here.”

“Still. If we’re gonna go any further, I’d rather make love to you someplace that isn’t behind the back of a bar.”

You blushed. “Make love?”

Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, Tyler leaned down and kissed the shell. 

“Would you prefer for me to fuck you? Because I can do that, too, Sweetheart.”

Tyler watched as your cheeks heated. He didn’t have to look at you to know what you were thinking about. Because he was thinking about it, too. 

“Come on. We better get inside.”

Pressing a final kiss to your lips, Tyler took your hand and led you back into the bar. You were pretty sure after his question, your brain had been completely fried with thoughts of Tyler fucking you. 

Not helped by the fact that when he walked you back inside, he pulled you to stand in front of him, his hands on your waist. “I’m gonna get a drink, you want one?”

You still couldn’t speak so just nodded. 

Tyler smiled a little and kissed your temple. “You keep thinking about my question, Sweetheart.”

You felt his hand tap your ass lightly before he walked away and towards the bar and you were left to walk back to where the team had been sitting in the corner. Thankfully, most of them apart from Dexter were up dancing. 

“You two finally talk?”

You felt yourself blush. You were glad most of the lights were directed onto the dancefloor or behind the bar. “A little more than that.”

Dexter smiled before taking a sip of his drink and handing you a small sketch. 

“Dexter, you’re the only person I know that brings a pad and pencil to a bar.”

He smiled. “Never know when inspiration will strike. Plus, I think you’ll like this one.”

From his pad, he pulled a small piece of card, no bigger than a beer coaster. In the middle stood the outline of two people. 

You and Tyler. 

Just moments ago, when you were standing on the dancefloor together. 

“Dex…”

He smiled. “You keep it. I’m gonna go to the gents.”

Standing up, Dexter walked away just as Tyler reached the table and handed you your drink before sitting beside you with his arm over your shoulders. 

“Look at this.”

“It's us.”

You smiled as you watched Tyler take hold of it and examine it for a moment. You could hear the cogs turning in his head but you weren’t sure why. But then he removed his hat and fixed the picture in place on the inner band. 

He fixed the hat back onto his head. “Well?”

You smiled. “You look handsome.”

Tyler smiled before leaning in to kiss you, and as he pressed his lips to yours, you both heard the hollering and whistles being blown by the rest of your team on the dancefloor. 

You felt yourself blush and chuckle, Tyler doing the same except as you hid your head for a moment on his shoulder, he waved his hands at the other to get them to stop. 

Looking back to you with a rested smile on his face, he leaned down and kissed you once more. 

“Ready to go home?”

You nodded and went to stand. 

“The offer still stands, Sweetheart.”

This time, as he remained seated, you turned back and pressed your knee into your chair, leaning over him as he looked up at you. 

“I want both,” you told him. Then you leaned in closer. “But if you’re gonna fuck me, you better fuck me like you mean it.”

It was his turn to blush, but you didn’t get away with not for long because Tyler’s hand came to your hip holding you steady when you kissed him. 

“Think you can take me, darlin’. Might need to get you ready first.”

You felt yourself smirk. “After those words and everything that happened outside, I’m already halfway there.”

Considering another tray of drinks made their way to the table in Dexter’s hands, Tyler told Tyler the others wouldn’t be leaving for a good while.

Tyler pressed one last kiss to your lips before he stood and took your hand in his, leading you back through the bar and towards his truck. 

“We’ll have to see about that.”

[dinodaweeb]

Living with a gangster

Mafia man x Gn!Reader

Summary: moments in your life when your weirdo of a boyfriend gets you both in the most randomness possible scenarios. You love him though

a/n: ummm ummm writing for now bc my Apple Pencil broke so yeah!!

You’re on the couch, unwinding after a long day. The soft hum of the TV fills the room as you kick your feet up, enjoying a rare moment of peace. That peace shatters the moment your boyfriend walks through the door, looking like he’s been through hell and back.

There’s even stains on his white pants. Gross.

Bruised, bloodied, and entirely too proud of himself, he barges in with a grin plastered on his face. “I brought you something,” he says, and there’s a certain cockiness in his voice that you’ve come to expect from him.

You turn to look, already knowing whatever he’s holding will be ridiculous. “What is it?”

You ask, trying to suppress the exhaustion from your voice.

With a flourish, he reveals a ragged, battered stuffed bear. Its fur is matted, and there’s a stain that could be blood—or maybe it’s just the bear’s battle scars. One of its eyes is hanging by a single thread.

“A battle bear,” he announces proudly.

You stare at it for a beat. “A what?”

“A battle bear. I had to fight a bunch of idiots to get it. It was a whole ordeal, but I thought you’d want it.”

You blink, deadpan. “So you got into a fight for a stuffed animal?”

“Yup,” he says, a little too smug for someone who just looked like they were hit by a bus. “It’s yours now. For protection, obviously. You’ll be safe with this thing. Like a bodyguard, but fluffier.”

You glance from him to the bear. “This thing looks like it’s seen better days. What kind of fight were you in?”

“It’s fine. Just a little blood. Nothing serious,” he assures, his grin widening. “So? Do you love it?”

You pause, still eyeing the mangled bear. “Sure, I guess. I don’t know if it’ll protect me, though. It looks like it’s seen as much action as you.”

He flops onto the couch next to you, snatching up the bear. “It’s a symbol of my dedication. Don’t downplay it.”

“You could do anything with it cry with it, cuddle, feed it, maybe even tell it about how much you love!”

“Nice try.” It’s just a thought but you are thinking he’s going to be the one to do those things.

It’s been a long day, and you were hoping for some peace. You’ve barely sat down on the couch when your boyfriend bursts in, completely out of nowhere, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I missed you!” he exclaims, then immediately starts some unholy combination of spinning, hopping, and awkward flailing. His hips are nowhere near Shakira’s level of shaking.

He’s rattling like a broken supermarket cart.

You stare at him, eyebrows raised. “What in the world are you doing?”

“This is my I missed you dance,” he says, spinning once again like he’s in some bizarre action movie. “It’s a tradition now. Every time I come home, I perform it to show my appreciation for you.”

You blink. “A dance?”

He nods, still twisting around, his limbs making chaotic, out-of-rhythm movements. “Yup! It’s a way of showing how much I care about you.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say dryly, eyes narrowing as you watch him crash into the coffee table, almost toppling over the lamp. You can’t help but let out a sigh. “Are you done yet?”

He doesn’t answer, too busy still trying to perfect whatever this is. His leg kicks too high and knocks into the side of the bookshelf. He spins again, only to hit his elbow on the doorframe.

“You’re really not helping your case here,” you mutter, leaning back. “How exactly am I supposed to take you seriously when you’re like this?”

With a grunt, he halts his movements, standing tall like he just finished a perfect performance. “I’m a dangerous man, babe. Nobody could top this move.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “You’re a mess.”

He grins like he won the lottery. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You walk through the door after running a simple errand. But as soon as you step inside, you’re met with your boyfriend standing in the living room, hands on his hips, wearing a look of complete panic.

“Where have you been?” he demands, voice high and tight with concern. “I’ve been worried as shit.. Do you know how long it’s been? What if something happened to you? Like if a Mario cosplayer asked for your number? Or if my boss figures out we make passionate love in ghost face costumes?”

You stop dead in your tracks, surprised by the sudden wave of intensity. “I was gone for two hours. I was grocery shopping,” you say, already regretting not texting him sooner.

His expression doesn’t change. “Two hours? That’s two hours I had no idea where you were! You could’ve gotten hurt! Kidnapped! I could have sent the team after you!”

You blink, trying to process his frantic words. “It was just the store. I’m fine. I didn’t even leave the neighborhood.”

“But what if something happened?” He’s pacing now, completely ignoring the fact that you’ve been walking around the block for the last hour. “You could have been in danger, and I wouldn’t have even known! What if the old man that looks like Santa Claus down the steep seduced you?”

“What—“

“And was successful. Who am I to Santa? Nothing but a little elf whore…”

“Um.”

“Actually fuck Santa. He ain’t shit.”

“Okay.”

“Anyways, Do you want me to hire bodyguards?”

“I’m not a delicate flower,” you say, trying to stay calm. “You don’t have to act like I’m going to break if I leave for an hour.”

He stops pacing, suddenly pulling you into a tight hug, his arms firm but careful. “I know, I know. You once broke my back when we were roleplaying WWE. And in be—“

“Oi.”

“Besides! You’re my responsibility. I need you safe.”

You sigh, your annoyance melting away as his possessiveness becomes more endearing than aggravating. “You’re a freak, you know that?”

He smiles into your shoulder, his tone softened. “And you match it~”

You couldn’t deny that.

You’re lounging on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you hear the front door open. Your boyfriend walks in, holding two absurdly oversized leather jackets with a grin that suggests he’s up to no good.

“Guess what I got!” he announces.

You glance at him, already sensing where this is going. “What now?”

“Matching jackets,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just spent way too much money on something totally unnecessary.

You look at the jackets, confused. “Those things are huge. They’ll swallow me whole.”

“Nonsense!” He’s practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s part of the look. Look how badass we’ll look together. We’ll be like this power couple!”

You pull the jacket on, and it nearly engulfs you. You feel like you’re drowning in leather, and you can barely move your arms.

You glance at him. “This is a terrible idea. I can’t even lift my arms.”

He looks at you with a deadpan stare. “Exactly. That’s the point. We’re untouchable.”

You sigh, crossing your arms, trying not to let the ridiculousness of the situation break your composure. “You realize we’re going to look like two absolute try-hards?”

“Nope.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “I look hot. You look hot. Who cares about looking normal when you look cool?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “We look like walking couches.”

It happens when you’re having an absolutely normal movie night. Popcorn, blankets, a chilled drink. Everything’s perfect. And then, in the middle of a dramatic scene, your boyfriend suddenly turns to you with a completely straight face.

“I killed someone today,” he says, his voice holding the same tone if he just did a wet fart. “45 years old. Kids. Pretty tragic, actually. But he had it coming. I mean he did—”

You freeze, popcorn halfway to your mouth. “Wait. What?”

He shrugs, clearly uninterested in your reaction. “Yeah, I mean, he was a threat. Had to be dealt with. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Are you… are you serious?” You blink rapidly, your mind struggling to catch up with what you just heard.

“Yeah, well, that’s gang life for you.” He leans back, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth like he’s just told you about his day at the office. “It’s not all fun and games, y’know.”

You can’t form a coherent response, too shocked by the casual way he talks about murder. “You just… killed someone. And then sat down to watch a movie?”

He glances at you, unphased. “Yeah, and? We were supposed to watch this, right? Can we watch breaking bad next? Bald Walter is spank bank material.”

“Um ew.”

“Just don’t sweat the small stuff, babe.”

You stare at him in silence for a moment, the absurdity of the situation slowly sinking in. “You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks. I try.” He says it so casually, then immediately falls asleep like it’s just another day.

What the hell.

[boom-butterflyeffect]

If you don’t mind can you do a NSFW alphabet for Josh or Matt

check out my masterlist for the Matt one! unfortunately it might be a little underwhelming, i haven't looked into his character as much as the others, and i'm only now getting back into writing so my writing is pretty minimal rn, but anyways!

Josh Washington NSFW Alphabet

im honestly so excited for this one, josh is fine as fuck, and in my mind, he's arguably the kinkiest out of them all

A - Aftercare

Josh would get you all cleaned up, kissing you all over while he does so.

B - Body Part (His favourite body part on himself and you)

He loves your lips. Just mesmerised by how pretty they are. His favourite part of himself would probably be his dick, I can't lie

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Messy! gets off to the sight of you with his cum either ON you or dripping out of you.

D - Dirty secret

Has SO MANY ideas for things you two could do. Wouldn't surprise me if he has them written down somewhere.

E - Experience (How experienced he is)

He's got a decent amount of experience, as well as a lot of ideas from the porn he watches.

F - Favorite position

Tbh I feel like Josh would love fucking you from behind while you're on your hands and knees, and he's got his hands on your hips.

G - Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment?)

Can switch back and forth between silly and serious so fast, and you can never quite tell if his seriousness is playful or not.

H - Hair

He keeps it tidy

I - Intimacy

He loves to get up close and personal, whispering in your ear and touching you all over.

J - Jack off

Honestly, a lot. He's got a lot of pent up energy.

K - Kink

I think Josh could potentially enjoy roleplay and costumes, considering how much he seemed to enjoy his whole Psycho act, and with all the movie equipment he has in the basement, I feel like he'd def be into some of the more kinky stuff.

L - Location

Every. Single. Goddamn. Room. In that lodge.

M - Motivation

Literally just seeing you.

N - No (Hard limits)

Anything that goes beyond your basic sadistic stuff, like nothing that would cause bleeding or permanent damage.

O - Oral

Loves both giving and receiving, loves making you squirm with just his tongue, does wonders for his ego seeing you become a mess, and would def be the type to grab you by the hair when receiving and guide your head.

P - Pace

Much like the seriousness, it can switch back and forth really fast. He always keeps you on your toes.

Q - Quickie

Yes. Quick fuck in a college bathroom before class? 100% he's down.

R - Risk

He's all for experimenting and trying out new things, and can enjoy things on the more daring side.

S - Stamina

He's got a LOT of energy, and gets really riled up once he's started.

T - Toys

I could definitely see Josh using toys on you, all sorts of borderline sadistic shit.

U - Unfair

Oh 100% he will degrade and praise you at the same time and leave you confused and whining.

V - Volume

Loud. Very chatty too, and talks you through everything, with all sorts of praise and degradation and teasing and all sorts.

W - Wild card (Random NSFW HC of my choosing)

I could imagine for Halloween he'd dress up as a masked killer from your favourite slasher movie and "hunt you down", he enjoys the thrill of the chase.

X - X-ray (Size)

7 inches (I think I'm just saying the same for all of them tbh idk)

Y - Yearning

Oh he is eager ALL the time, he's the most dirty minded guy in the group, no competition

Z - Zzz

I don't think he'd sleep for a while afterwards tbh, still too high on the adrenaline rush.

Bro it's crazy how much easier this one was than the others, I do really just imagine Josh to be a horny fucker

thank you for the request! Feel free to request other stuff too!

[oldsoul007]

Second Chances

nicholas chavez x reader

summary: nicholas and reader were high school sweethearts and haven’t seen each other in years but what happens when you see him on tv

I was flipping through channels one evening when I suddenly froze. There, on the screen, was Nicholas, my high school sweetheart, starring in a popular TV show. I couldn't believe my eyes. It had been years since we’d seen each other, and here he was, looking as charming as ever.

I felt a rush of emotions—nostalgia, excitement, and a bit of sadness. Memories of our time together in high school came flooding back: late-night talks, prom night, and the way he used to make me laugh. Seeing him on TV was surreal, like a piece of my past had come back to life.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched him. I felt proud of him for making it big, but also a bit wistful, wondering what might have been if our paths hadn't diverged.

I walked into the cozy coffee shop, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. I had just seen Nicholas on TV the night before, starring in a popular show. Memories of our high school days together came flooding back. We were inseparable back then, high school sweethearts who thought we’d be together forever.

As I waited for my order, I glanced around the room and nearly dropped my phone when I saw him. Nicholas was sitting at a table near the window, engrossed in a book. My heart raced, and i felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to pretend I didn’t see him. What would I even say. I doubt he’d remember me. I wouldn’t want him to think I only went up because of his new fame.

As I waited even longer for my drink filled with anxiety, I see someone walk up to me in my peripheral vision. "Y/n? Wow, it's been so long!" He stood up, giving me a warm smile.

“Oh my god! Nick” I acted surprised. He pulled me in for a hug feeling the familiar embrace. As he leaned out of the hug he said. “I swear it was you but I wasn’t sure and just decided to see, wow you look great.” I laugh as he spoke.

“What are you doing in LA?” He asked. “Oh well I got an internship on this new movie but I’ve been here for a while. How about you?” I asked.

“Oh well, I’ve been pursuing acting a little bit more so it’s easier to just be here.”

We spent the next hour catching up, talking about our lives since high school. I couldn't help but feel a spark of the old connection we once had. It was as if no time had passed at all.

“Ok well I have to get back to set, but I’d love to see you again. Here give me your number.” He said handing me his phone. I typed it in and said our goodbyes.

Nicholas and I met up at a cozy bar one evening, the atmosphere buzzing with low chatter and the clink of glasses. We ordered a couple of drinks and settled into a corner booth, catching up on life. We laughed about old times, shared our current ambitions, and reminisced about the paths we had taken.

"Do you remember that time we got caught sneaking out to go stargazing and stole a pack of cigarettes from my dad?" I asked, a playful smile on my face.

Nicholas chuckled, "How could I forget? We thought we were so slick, but my mom was waiting for us at the door when we got back."

We both laughed, the memory bringing back a wave of nostalgia. After a moment, Nicholas's expression turned more serious. "You know, I always wondered what would have happened if things had been different."

I nodded, my eyes reflecting the same curiosity. "Me too. I guess life just took us in different directions. But seeing you again... it feels like no time has passed."

Nicholas smiled warmly. "It's funny how some things never change. It's really nice to catch up like this."

I agreed, feeling the familiar warmth and connection. "Yeah, it really is. I'm glad we decided to do this."

As the evening wore on, the familiar song Tennessee Whiskey, began to play. Nicholas's eyes lit up, and he turned to me with a grin. "Hey, remember this song? They played it at our prom."

My face softened with nostalgia. "How could I forget? That was such a magical night, even if we were only at the dance for five minutes."

Nicholas stood up and extended his hand to me. "Dance with me?"

I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand in his. We moved to the small dance floor, swaying gently to the music. The memories of our prom night flooded back, and for a moment, it felt like we were back in high school, wrapped in the same youthful excitement and unspoken feelings.

As we danced, the world around us seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us and the music. The connection we shared was undeniable, but for now, we simply enjoyed the moment, letting the past and present blend together seamlessly.

As Nicholas and y/n swayed to the music, lost in their own world, they didn't notice the flash of a camera from the bar's entrance. A paparazzi had managed to catch the intimate moment, snapping a photo that would soon make headlines.

Flashback

Nicholas and I have been dating for a while now, our relationship filled with thrilling moments and stolen glances. One night, Nicholas decided to surprise me. He climbed up the tree outside my bedroom window, carefully making his way to the ledge.

When I was finishing some homework, I suddenly started hearing a soft tap on my window, I opened it with a grin. "Nick, what are you doing here?"

He smirked, slipping inside quietly. "I couldn't wait until tomorrow to see you."

We spent hours talking and laughing in whispers, savoring the forbidden thrill of our secret rendezvous. When it was time for Nicholas to leave, he gave me a quick kiss and climbed back out the window, making sure not to get caught.

As he disappeared into the night, I watched him go, my heart racing with excitement and a sense of adventure. Those nights were some of our most cherished memories, filled with the excitement of young love and the thrill of sneaking around.

The next morning, the tabloids were buzzing with the news. "Does Nicholas Chavez Have a Girlfriend?" the headline blared, accompanied by a photo of them dancing closely, their faces lit with warmth and nostalgia.

Nicholas saw the headline and sighed, knowing it would stir up questions and speculation. He called y/n to give her a heads-up. "Hey, did you see the news?"

She laughed softly. "Yeah, I saw it. Guess we made quite the impression last night."

We both knew that the photo would lead to a lot of attention, but for now, we decided to take it in stride. After all, the night had been special, and no headline could take that away from us.

I looked at the headline again and then turned to Nicholas, my expression thoughtful. "Do you ever wish you could have more privacy? I mean, do you really like this newfound fame?"

Nicholas paused, considering my question. "Honestly, it's a double-edged sword. I love what I do and the opportunities it brings, but sometimes I miss the simplicity of just being able to hang out without worrying about cameras and headlines."

I nodded, understanding his perspective. "I can imagine it must be tough. But for what it's worth, I think you're handling it really well."

Nicholas smiled, appreciating her support. "Thanks, y/n. It helps having someone who gets it and is there to share these moments with."

Nicholas and Y/n started hanging out more, finding comfort in each other's company. They'd grab coffee, go for walks, and talk about everything from their favorite movies to their dreams for the future. It felt so natural, like slipping back into an old routine.

But underneath the laughter and easy conversation, there were feelings that neither of them dared to mention. Every time their hands brushed or their eyes met for a little too long, it was like a spark of something familiar and unspoken.

They both felt it, that lingering connection from the past, but neither wanted to risk the friendship they were rebuilding. So, they kept those feelings tucked away, enjoying the moments they had together and wondering if the other felt the same.

After one night drew to a close, Nicholas and I found ourselves standing alone on the porch, the cool night air wrapping around us. The stars twinkled above, casting a gentle glow over our faces.

Nicholas took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Y/n, I've missed you more than I can say. Seeing you again has made me realize just how much."

I felt a rush of emotions flood through me. "Nick, I've missed you too. I never stopped thinking about you."

Without another word, Nicholas gently cupped my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. Seeing none, he leaned in, and our lips met in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with years of longing and unspoken feelings, a kiss that bridged the gap between their past and their future.

As we pulled away, breathless and smiling, we knew that this was the start of something new, yet so beautifully familiar. We had finally found our way back to each other. A second chance.

[mc-lukanette]

"I can't believe you," Marinette huffed, pouting and gently cleaning the dirt from Luka's arm.

He frowned sympathetically. "Marinette..."

She didn't respond, shaking with emotion on all the bruises and marks left on him. She knew it wasn't serious and it wasn't like it was his fault. She wasn't angry with him either, just confused.

Did all this really happen over pizza of all things?

She only really knew what he'd told her. Apparently, he'd been working at his part-time job and an adult thought they could just "take the pizza off his hands." Maybe they were in a bad mood, or they simply thought they could take advantage of a teenager, but Luka had gotten knocked off his bike and a scuffle ensued when he refused.

How adults were somehow less mature than half of the teenagers she knew, she had no idea.

Nevertheless, Luka was decently fit (he could lift an entire Marinette when ice skating and rode his bike around everywhere, after all) so he managed well enough, eventually ending up in Marinette's room. She'd forced him to sit on the chaise lounge despite his concerns about getting it dirty, his hoodie and jacket discarded so she could properly tend to him. His Jagged Stone t-shirt was sleeveless and allowed her easy access to his shoulders.

She glared, inspecting his arm once more to be certain it was clean, then got up and sat on his other side to inspect the opposite arm. Being clumsy, she'd gotten many injuries over the course of her life and thus was basically an expert at first aid. The fact that it was Luka she was tending to made her even more determined to do it right; she might've gotten a little lazy with it if she'd been doing it for herself.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I hate worrying you."

She shot him a look, but it crumbled at the sadness in his eyes. Sighing, she held his arm a little closer than necessary and retorted, "No, it's okay. I probably worry you all the time too." With a dramatic flair, she added, "So we're even."

He gave her that lopsided smile that always seemed reserved just for her, then let her continue in pleasant silence. Marinette, staring at his upper arm, noted that she'd never actually seen it before due to how often he wore hoodies and jackets. Just as she'd imagined, there was a bit of muscle there, and she wondered if she might've seen it if she'd gone below deck when she visited Juleka at the Liberty one night. Perhaps he would've been in his pajamas, and—

Marinette cleared her throat, forcing the thought out of her head. Catching his curious gaze, she hurried to say, "I-it's nothing. You're toned, that's all."

Her face flushed at the Freudian slip, but Luka took it in stride. With a tilt of his head, he asked playfully, "Because I like music?"

He'd known exactly what she meant, yet gave her an out. She squeezed her eyes shut, blushing deeper as her mind screamed, You're too good for me!

"Anyway," she carried on as casually as she could. She searched lower on his body and experimentally prodded at his ribcage, which she'd been planning on doing before but now served the purpose of an excuse not to make eye contact with him. "Does it hurt here?"

Bless him, he went along with it. "No."

She poked lower at his stomach. "Here?"

"No."

She peeked through the rips of his shirt just to be sure, but thankfully didn't see anything concerning. "What about over here?"

She gently pressed her fingers into his side and felt him tense, a startled hiss coming out of him. Carefully, she lifted his shirt and winced at the sight of the bruise forming there.

"Does it hurt normally?" she asked, trying to delicately feel around the bruise to confirm that nothing was actually damaged. Everything felt okay, but he took a sharp intake of breath like it wasn't. She looked up, surprised. "S-sorry! Was my hand cold?"

"Don't worry," he assured oddly quickly. His cheeks were a light shade of pink. "It's nice."

"Oh."

She turned to her phone briefly to text her parents about getting an ice pack from the freezer whenever they had a moment to spare, then set it aside to focus on Luka again. Figuring it was better than nothing, she kept his shirt raised and slid the back of her fingers along the bruising, appointing herself as a substitute for the time being. He shivered at the contact, but didn't complain.

They both weren't looking at each other now. She thought she'd gotten rid of her blush, but the mood in the room brought it back.

"Ah, so... were you that worried about your boss?" she asked, because the topic of the day appeared to be changing topics.

"Hm?"

She let the shirt fall, only supported by her fingers against his side, so she could grab his forearm and turn it over. Eyeing the place that'd clearly been scuffed when he caught himself against the pavement, she pointed out, "You could've handed the pizza over; it wouldn't have been that big of a deal." She paused, thinking it over. "Unless—maybe you were delivering to a really poor family? And that pizza was the only food they were going to get that day?"

It sounded like something Luka would do, so she was already worrying over the fictional financially-challenged family she'd just made up in her head.

He chuckled. "No, it wasn't like that. My boss was upset about me getting beat up, but they would've had to take it out of my paycheck if I didn't deliver anything."

"But was it worth it?" She tried not to sound like she was scolding him. "Are you saving up for something?"

He didn't respond right away and she dared a peek at his face. Though his head was turned away from her, she could almost see the debate going on in his head over whether or not he should say anything.

"Luka?" she called, wondering if this involved a surprise of some sort. "Is it about someone's birthday or something? I won't tell—"

"Next week," he finally answered. The idea of her getting the wrong impression must've stirred him into action.

She blinked. "What about next..."

She trailed off as it clicked. While she didn't have extensive knowledge of Luka's schedule, she did know that Luka hadn't had plans next week aside from one thing, as they'd chosen that week together because neither of them had plans otherwise. They'd set up a big day together to just have for themselves: a trip to the aquarium, going to the cinema for a movie, picking a random place they'd never been to eat, and so much more that she couldn't even remember in her state of shock.

"We promised to split the cost," Luka confirmed, aware that she'd already come to the correct conclusion. "I wanted to make sure I had as much as possible, just in case."

Her mouth dropped open, heart wrenching while simultaneously picking up in pace. He knew - must've known - that she wouldn't have cared if he came up a little short. She would've been more relieved that he'd avoided a physical confrontation.

But it'd been important to him to have money he could spend on her, on the two of them together. Perhaps it was just how he felt, or some standard he was holding himself to even if he wasn't aware of it.

Her hands shot up, one to grasp at the strap of his shirt closest to her and the other at his face to turn his head towards her.

"Ah." He grimaced. "You didn't do anything wrong, Marinette. I was the one who—"

She pulled him in and kissed him with a vengeance. She kissed him for all the kindness he'd given her, all the time they'd spent together, how utterly stupid he could be around her while thinking that it was normal, and also because she desperately, deeply wanted to. He stayed frozen the whole time, entirely unlike the calm, melodic movements everyone knew him for.

There was a loud "popping" noise when she broke away from him, out of breath and face feeling hot enough that she thought she might start sweating. Her grip on Luka's shirt had been so tight that her nails left tiny impressions in her palms as she let go, the wrinkled strap falling loosely off his shoulder.

Luka was wide-eyed, staring unblinkingly at her.

"D...don't do that ever again. You're too precious to me," she murmured, the situation slowly catching up with her. She had to metaphorically drag the embarrassment out from the back of her mind or risk being totally lost to the euphoria of kissing the boy she loved. The words may have left a vague implication that he belonged to her and she didn't want anyone so much as laying a hand on him, but she didn't take it back or clarify any further.

Barely remembering to breathe, she tore her attention from him to his lap. She could only hope that he wouldn't be upset in any way. "I-I should, um... check here too. Pull your pant legs up."

She reached a tender hand out to touch his thigh, but Luka's hand was suddenly on her wrist, keeping it in place. She jumped, initially anxious, but noticed that his grip wasn't so tight as to hurt her.

"You don't have to do that," he said. Given the situation, it sounded like an odd thing to say.

"W-what?"

She met his gaze, confused, and saw in his eyes that he wasn't the least bit upset. In fact, his eyes were gleaming, his body turning towards her and his face closing the distance she made. She watched with captivated eyes and he raised her hand up, kissing her palm where the impression of her nails had been.

Somehow, she heard his voice over the pounding in her ears, soft and loving as he whispered, "You already kissed me better."

In a perfect mirroring of what she'd done a few seconds ago, his other hand cupped her cheek and pulled her back in. It brought their lips together once again and she melted, needing no further explanation to understand. She leaned back intentionally to fall back on the chaise lounge and let him on top of her mid-kiss, not wanting to risk the tempting urge to climb onto his lap when his legs might be hurt.

She couldn't bring herself to care if her parents showed up right then with an ice pack. The tiny part of her mind that could focus on anything but the kiss was too busy planning out a few extra "events" for next week.

[bisnes-socks]

stephanie

hehehe i loved this song so much i'm so happy. i was worried going in, because the mixing kinda killed bluza for me, but this one was mixed to perfectiooooon mwah.

first of all, hello brit rock, hello alex turner vocals, hello nostalgia!

the song beginning with the drum beat had me paying attention to that, and it's a really cool, innovative base for this sound! i love how decorated the percussions are, so many little details, pings and pangs building the drum part and making it interesting. and that they're not afraid to add effects to the drums! the little 80's vibe frum fill right before "and then a lightning strike just fills the place" is so fun. once again hats off to jure on this one, i talked about him a lot in my first šta bih ja analysis and he's truly an excellent drummer in my opinion.

this song has such an interesting structure me. i love that it doesn't have a super obvious verse chorus verse chorus structure. the way the song is built feels very much like a storytelling vibe to me. and i love love love LOVE how at the very end, the music/melody and the vocals go like out of sync. the syncopated vocals are so delicious so interesting and super skilled songwriting. the musical details in this are so cool and there are so many, i have to keep listening to find them all. (i'm writing this in a hurry just to get my initial thoughts down, might do a deep dive into the musical aspects later.)

now i know i made fun of bojan earlier today and that was a joke, because i do have serious thoughts about the lyrics as well.

i think this song is basically about how he romanticises people, places and things. i think he knows that, and i think maybe, since this was originally meant to be a happy song, maybe it was originally meant to celebrate the fact that he sees so much good in people, that he finds people so fascinating and how much he loves making connections. but maybe on the day he wrote the lyrics, being such a... well, puppy of a person (and i genuenly say that with nothing but love, because it's an admirable quality) felt heavy. it's draining, to feel so intensly so easily.

i don't think the lines at the end, about love and happiness not being meant for people like him, are meant to be taken 100% seriously - or at least i think they are meant to be taken in the context of a specific moment and a specific feeling. i think the song very much recognises love is everywhere in his life, but feeling the spark of a specific type of love, only to have it die before you even get to explore what it could mean, is a moment of angst, and the lyrics rise from that moment.

i think everything about this song feels like a moment in time, a moment in the past. the sound is so nostalgic, i think on purpose, the lyrics are in past tense, the voice is edited in a way that makes it sound like it was recorded on an older system or through a phone or something, just the whole package, it gives this vibe of him remembering stephanie, and even though he's moved on, it's a moment of remembering the past and recognising that moment as something substantial. this just has that vibe of a song "about the one that got away" and it's gone now, but it's okay to feel a bit angsty about it on a friday night alone in your bed.

but things in the music, like a lot of the synth details, bring this playful, optimistic and positive sound into the song. and that gives me the sense that he's over it, she's a beautiful memory, and yeah sometimes he's bitter about it a little bit, angsty about it. but she's a story now. a beautiful story that means something to him, but just a story after all. i don't see it as a sad story, i see it as a story of myriad emotions. it's very much.. life.

bonus: i'm so sorry i know it's a heartfelt song and like i said i genuenly love it!! but i cannot help that it reminds me of carol brown by flight of the conchords

[narriose]

Thoughts on Veilguard so far:

Preface: I’m ~50 hours in with a handful of endgame spoilers.

My general values are: Story > Characters > Gameplay > Romance > Rep > Visuals.

My rating of the previous games: DA2 > DAO > DAI

Spoilers under Cut:

What I expected: Having to deal with an unappealing art style and clunky gameplay with leftover multiplayer and live service era elements that they couldn’t get rid of for the sake of the story and characters.

What I got: Well…

Let’s Start with the negatives:

-Dialogue: I want to know what happened there. Ik for a fact they had veteran BioWare writers on the team and it feels like there was a decision to dumb everything down to the point of me immediately having a line in my head that would sound better in universe every time someone spoke. It proved especially grating once I heard Morrigan speak. And when people compare the writing to MCU I cannot really protest. “Dragon Age has always been unserious” yes but like. Not every other line was a joke or relatable™️ millennial awkwardness . When jokes did happen they became memorable moments for the fandom. It’s often very difficult to listen to. Especially when Rook talks. It is getting marginally better though.

-Tone: Dragon Age has been compelling to me because it wrote conflict and trauma and corruption in a way that felt developed enough to feel grounded and believably horrific. Even with all its faults. DATV mellowed out the horrors and seems to gloss over a lot of sociopolitical dynamics and lore. Stuff like portraying crows as vigilantes and not showing the evils of Tevinter slavery. The tone itself just feels like theyre trying to make an easily marketable sanitized IP out of it to cater to a wider audience.

-Character Writing: A lot of characterization has been “Tell not show” because I’m disappointed in Lucanis and Neve. The story says one is a serious killer and the other is a cynic but both have only been friendly soft and positive which is like??? I feel like a lot of their intro has been cut out or something where they establish those traits on screen. Another thing is: there don’t appear to be actually detestable and controversial traits in characters or even internal conflict they need to overcome. They’re just dealing with some kind of external thing thrust onto them and that is very shallow to me personally.

-Intro: I know we’re not getting Origins style personalized intros again but it felt like too much is handwaived into people making their own OCs and forming headcanons when the game doesn’t let us RP much at all outside identity stuff anyway. Like how do we know Varric? Why should any of the pep talks he gives us mean anything when we haven’t experienced anything to warrant the complements he gives us?

-Villains: possibly the worst part of the story: they lit act like theyre in a preschool cartoon down to body language. No nuance no controversy no actual horror to them when in previous games the evil felt so much more pronounced because some of the villains felt human enough to be a shitty person irl.

-Rep: Sigh. Even as a transmasc I might be a little too internally transphobic for the rep in the game. It feels like so many steps ahead of what the story should be handling. Like fix the slavery problem in a meaningful way then start philosophical gender discussions about what a gender binary even is. And it’s very cringe to me when it’s spoken about in game. Like yeah I love that there’s no way to dispute what the characters are but it also feels so entirely uncreative using modern day terminology for this stuff. And I don’t mean “replace it with ambiguous sad baby talk” but something more. Like is it terrible to want that? Even if you were planning on using the word nonbinary, at least tell us what a binary even is and how it was instituted as an idea into this world. Like I do adore Taash, I just wish the gender stuff wasn’t so clumsy.

-Visuals: It’s hard man. As an artist who sees human bodies as proportion reference points, the bodies still look off to me. Like it was worse and I’m getting used to it but it’s still painful. And I’m all for trying to stylize but this particular heroforge direction was not something I would have picked.

-OST: At first I couldn’t tell Zimmer/Balfe’s stuff apart from Morris’s but yeah, the new stuff is more boring(Sans the Rivain part)

-The 3 choice thing: yeah not a fan of that. I feel like perhaps it was a part of the multiplayer era where they would not be able to import much if everyone had a massively different world state so they limited it to the tiny MC choices. Still sad that the romance thing only really matters if you romanced Solas because the Dorian cameo wasn’t anything to write home about. Kinda feels like they added him in last minute because someone pointed out how much Solas-skewed the choices were. Idk. I so expected Josie in Antiva but alas.

Now Onto the Positives:

-Codices: The very way-too modern simplified conversational dialogue style carries over to the codices. And while I despise that as a creative, I do find myself actually reading them as they come because they are so easy to absorb. I feel like a lot of people would benefit from not skipping them because there are some references and plot reveals worth checking out.

-Story: If you deafen the dialogue style, the story itself is top. Gets way better as you play and from the spoilers I’ve heard, yeah. It’s good. Can’t wait to find out more.

-Gameplay: Listen I have a massive preference for DA style combat even if most ppl call it a slog. The turn based element, the pause button, the hoarding skills I never use. It’s like coming home to me. I hated DAI combat for the amount of anxiety it induced and I usually hate fast-paced action combat in most other games. DATV made me eat my boots. Its combat is insanely fun and engaging and often times I’m looking forward to fights more than quests themselves. Very colorful, very flashy, and very effective. The pause button gives less freedom but it’s there. The combos are fun. It is like Mass Effect except I did not find commanding the companions in Mass Effect as intuitive. Tho I wish non mages had less magicey feeling attacks.

-The CC: Yeah it wowed me with the options. I like how much can be done with the facial sliders and how good the hair looks.

-Puzzles: Listen the puzzles are extremely stupid in this game. But I also am very stupid and lazy when it comes to solving them. I have looked up the vast majority of puzzle solutions for DA games. No more DA2 Fade Barrels and no more trying to circumnavigate the ad infested Fandom Wiki to get to the Kitty’s prison solution. Crafted specifically for me.

-Mechanical Things: The game is optimized insanely well. Both when It comes to your PC and the gameplay. I’m amazed how well it runs on my PC when games like BG3 and Cyberpunk make my CPU scream. Love that. As far as gameplay goes: everything is super streamlined and designed to be as un-annoying as possible. No carry weight, no collectibles as annoying and unrewarding as the shards and mosaics. The maps are easy to parse. The game does not bombard you with useless NPCs, banter can’t be interrupted and characters catch up on banter at the Lighthouse if you’ve been avoiding certain party comps by accident. The quest locator is actually helpful. Skill points can be refunded. Looting is easy and finding shit feels rewarding.

-Characters: Honestly they do have some interesting things going on and while most characters feel a little hollow so far, I was pleasantly surprised by Davrin and Bellara. Davrin is the one I’m romancing and while the actual romance isn’t groundbreaking I’m glad I chose him. Yes, his character has a lot to do with Assan and his arc, but he does have stuff going on of his own. He’s very refreshing because some of the things he says low key both makes you think and also worry about him. He’s also not your usual preppy jock type. He can be a little mean sometimes. He’s artistic and principled. He has some remnants of “opinions I don’t agree with” that I love early DA for. When it comes to Bellara, she absolutely breaks the sort of Manic Pixie/Quirky Awkward young coded girl mold. It is the fact that there is self awareness and hints of history of failure and isolation in her words. There is also masking and over-clarification that I can relate to personally. I hope there is stuff like that to other companions when I get to know them better.

Visuals: the UI and Locations are stunning. The outfits the best the game has had so far(tho wish the overall look was less stylized) The blighted stuff(sans the ogres) and the Crossroads. Beautiful.

-Dwarf Lore: started out as fucking cheesy but I just finished meeting Valta and I’m seated.

-Solas Stuff: Hated the man for a while. Caved and made a solavellan to import to get more story stuff. NGL he is actually tolerable/interesting to me in this game.

Overall: A sickly sweet combo of Disappointed and Impressed. And I’m still gonna be playing. I am used to not liking something about every DA game. That’s part of the fun for me. But damn is this one testing me. Am I having a lot of fun playing it? Absolutely. Am I finding it difficult to get through a concerning amount of dialogue…yeah. It does still feel like a DA game but also like if someone made a pg-13 live action of Inquisition and then made a supplementary game based off that. If I forget that it’s supposed to be a sequel and just treat it like an action game with plot then it’s easier. And like I’m sure at least half of what I listed as a negative can be attributed to EA meddling or prev iterations of the game being inseparable. Anyway. Can’t wait to see the ending and I will add more thoughts when I’m done.

[enbysiriusblack]

rereading snape's worst memory:

severus is writing A LOT more than the other students around him, so like. he probably does try super hard in all his exams, but defence is clearly one of his favourites i think from this. like he's writing super small and still filling out a lot of the parchment, so he's got a lot to say about the subject, plus he's writing like really fast without stopping

if james is only a short distance away from severus and sirius is in the same row as james, does this mean exam tables aren't set up in alphabetical order? people just sit where they want or something? weird

james' hair is described as messy like 5 times by harry. i don't think we focus on that enough.

girl, pay attention to your exam. we get he's hot, but damn

remus, you're good at dada, stop worrying sm about it. u got this mate

peter having exam anxiety is soooo canon i swear. also i'm giggling at him trying to cheat

doodler!james >>>> also harry not clocking his own mum's initals is kinda sad

ooh guys, should i make stebbins (he's a guy who doesn't put down his quill and continues writing after the exam finishes so flitwick calls him out) florence's boyfriend?? should i actually give 'boyfriend' a name???

honestly, other than the weird seating plan, this is so accurate to gsce exams. like turning around just to do a face or hand gesture to your friend a few seats away when the teacher's not looking? someone always writing after they tell you to stop? laughing at the teacher? waiting for your friends to discuss the paper straight away? its so real

these guys are incapable of being serious. they are all so fucking sarcastic. i love it.

why's severus still enthralled in his exam for???? it's over mate, go fucking relax

unrequited prongstail is real (also james' nicking a snitch?? he's such a weirdo)

severus!! harry literally was describing you as super pale and like you never go in the sunlight.. and then you go and sit in the shade?? it's early summer in scotland, it's not gonna be that fucking hot.

poly marauders are canon? (they were just described as being a foursome)

handsome just keeps getting added to any description of sirius. might start doing this in my fics /j

this is making me realise how canonly accurate the personalities of the marauders are in my fic (i'm only cryptic and machiavellian), and i love that for me

yeah unrequited prongstail is def canon omfg.

"sirius was the only person for whom james would stop showing off". james doesn't need to show off for sirius, because he knows sirius will always be there for him and give him attention anyway aww

remus and james both trying to think up solutions as soon as sirius says he's bored?? i'm giggling.

peter must have been sooo dissapointed that sirius and james stopped hexing people as often... his fav entertainment. gone.

okay i swear i've read this like loads of times before but i never actually realised sirius 'barking with laughter' was how he canonly laughs, i always just write that to be funny, i didn't know it was canon

james constantly looking over at the girls by the lake. like mate, she didn't notice or care about you throwing a snitch in the air but i don't think bullying her friend is any better. like yeah it gets her attention but is that really the kind of attention you want?? oh, you'll take any attention you can get from her? okay, right, fine

peter edging... IM SORRY

"i was watching him" OKAY,, snirius enjoyers are eating today

*smugly grinning* i KNEW james' hair fidgeting thing was an anxious/nervous habit I TOLD YOU ALL

lily's hair is dark red!!! just in case anyone forgot!!

i love remus. disagree with your friend's actions? don't worry! u can always just pretend you're so enthralled in your book you don't even notice what they're doing! just look the other way and you're totally absolving yourself and your friends from any guilt!

i feel like james asked lily out only once before this. like in fourth year of maybe just a couple months before this, and like in a proper fairly private, giving her flowers, asking timidly (well as timid as he can be), and she responded in a fairly similar way to here. so james asking here, is like trying to resolve his own feelings of embarassment about the rejection ig?

lily smiling!!!! oh she's such a cunt i love her (ofc james and sirius are bigger cunts ofc!!!) like girl that's your damn friend getting 'pantsed'. although ig like. it was kinda a norm thing to like do it TO your own friends soo hmm. (btw i put 'pantsed' in brackets since it's not pantsing, like. the point is that severus isn't wearing pants, he's wearing robes. it's robesing...)

sirius and james are too wuss to duel lily <333 cause she'd thrash them <333 (they totally duelled her before and got their arses kicked)

oh severus... u suck so bad... just cause she found you getting robesed funny doesn't mean u should go call her slurs wtf man

go off lily okayyy. her insults/jokes hit harder than all of sirius' ngl (ily sirius you're still funny and got good insults i swear!!)

okay personally lily, i don't think someone who shows off and hexes people who annoy him (which is. maybe just in my opinion) majoritively people who are bigoted/do dark magic, and then someone who calls their supposed best friend a slur in front of like half their peers are as bad as each other...

^also james!! omg mate she noticed you showing off with your snitch and messing your hair up!!! (also furthering my proof that he does it as a nervous act cause he's all nervous around her so does it more often and she just thinks he's showing off)

sirius, now is not the time for your brutal honestly. like that's so real of you and i suffer from the same infliction but still..

[swrkn]

glad to see a new writer for wb manhwa and i already love ur oliver fic 🫶🏻 since ur req open can i request for hyuk with his highschool crush (&& preferably fem!reader) thankyeww!!

Between The Lines

Highschool!hyuk x highschool!fem!reader

Genre ; sfw , fluff

Author note ; Thanks for the compliment :)) I think i will probably do a part 2 fort this fic , since the end is kinda an open one. English is not my first language so im sorry if there are any mistakes, my request are still open !!

Hyuk wasn't exactly what you'd call a model student. He spent most of his time in the back of the classroom, head down, doodling in the margins of his notebook or staring out the window. School was just a thing to endure until the day was over.

But lately, his gaze had been lingering on someone else : Y/n

She sat a few seats ahead of him, always focused, her pencil moving gracefully across her notebook. She wasn't the type to cause a scene or demand attention, but Hyuk noticed her in everything she did. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought, the way she always make a little smile when she answers a question correctly, little things that most people probably don’t notice.

Hyuk though? He noticed everything.

One day after school, Hyuk stayed behind, pretending to look for something in his desk, but in reality, he was waiting for Y/n. She was always one of the last to leave, making sure her notes were perfect before packing up.Sure enough, she was still there, flipping through her textbook, her brow slightly furrowed.

"Hey, Y/n," Hyuk said casually, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

She looked up, quit surprised. "Oh, Hyuk. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "You're pretty good at math, right? I'm kinda stuck on this problem." It wasn't a total lie-math wasn't exactly his strong suit. But more than anything, he just wanted an excuse to talk to her.

Y/n tilted her head, a small smile forming. "Math? Didn't think you'd ask for help with that."Hyuk shrugged, leaning against her desk. "Figured you'd be the best person to ask."

She laughed softly and moved her chair over to make room. "Alright, show me what you ve got."

They spent the next half hour going over equations and formulas. Y/n was patient with him, explaining things in a way that actually made sense to Hyuk. Everytime he got something right, she'd give him an encouraging nod or a quick "See? You're getting it."

Hyuk found himself more focused than he'd ever been in class. Not because of the math, but because of her. As they worked, he couldn't help but notice little things: the faint scent of her shampoo, the way her lips pursed slightly when she was thinking.

At one point, their hands accidentally brushed as she reached for his notebook. Y/n didn't seem to notice, but Hyuk's heart skipped a beat.

"See? It's not so hard once you break it down," Y/n said, tapping the page with her pencil.

Hyuk nodded, trying to act like he wasn't completely distracted. "Yeah, thanks. I guess I just needed a good teacher." Y/n smiled, a little embarrassed, "Happy to help you out."

As they packed up to leave, Y/n glanced at him. "You know, you're not as bad at this as you think. You just need to put in the effort."

Hyuk smirked. "Guess I'll have to ask for your help more often, then."

She laughed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Well, if you're serious, I'll be at the library after school tomorrow. Feel free to stop by."

Hyuk felt a surge of excitement. "Yeah? Alright, maybe I will."

They walked out of the classroom together, the hallway quiet and bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. For once, Hyuk didn't mind the idea of spending more time in school. If it meant getting to know Y/n a little better, he was all in.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd learn more than just math along the way.

I really think im gonna do a second part , let me know what you guys think !

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