#drawing them so much because I’ve been watching this show for the first time and am obsessed

[lorastyrels]

One dance

[ratmonky]

it’s so cute that your partner comments on your fics and you flirt and just say things full of love to each other on your posts and in your tags! that’s the dream as a creative and i hope one day i can find what you two have 😭

my partner is a grown ass 30 year old man so he doesn’t have tumblr T-T the most loving thing he said to me about my fics was “you’re too pretty to write these nasty stuff”

but they do read my shit sometimes and just call me out for making characters “evil”

right now i’m ruining nanami for them and they’re not happy

like they never even watched anime before until i showed them some of the good stuff 😼 tho they watched jojo like almost all by themselves lmao their fave part is part 2 and 3, joseph and jotaro dickrider all the way atm

and i think you thought @passionatum is my partner lol i mean they definitely are my partner in crime hehe i keep my friends so close i might cannibalize them at some point

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[luvjunie]

— headcanons. miles morales (earth1610)

MILES who somehow managed to pick you up with that corny little shoulder touch his Uncle Aaron taught him. Not because it actually worked and left you smitten and head over heels for him—but because in that moment, the dorky boy who stood in front of you had made you laugh so hard you’d nearly peed yourself. There was no way that with a sense of humor like his, he wasn’t getting your number.

MILES who has never missed a good morning or a goodnight text. While often they may not always be at the most ideal times, it’s the fact that he remembered that means the most to you. Even if he’s running late to school, shoes untied, and shirt buttoned unevenly as he bundles out the door of his dorm, he insists he can text and run to class at the same time. And at night, even if his eyelids feel as if they weigh a ton the minute his back finally hits his mattress after webbing the villain of the week to a light pole for the cops, he refuses to fall asleep without telling you he loves you first— though the message may include a few sleepy typos. “Goodnihgt aby i lov youuu” “shitno i meant baby not aby”

MILES who hand draws a card for you when the monthly anniversary of your relationship rolls by. Each one of them is different and creative in their own way and you’re always excited to see what it’ll look like this time. He’ll swiftly swing by your fire escape on his way to patrol, drop a box of chocolates, your favorite candy, or a bouquet of flowers on the steel metal along with the card, then switch arms and thwip another web to the next building in the same breath.

MILES who loves to draw you, especially when the two of you haven’t been able to hang out in a while, just so he can reminisce and pretend like you’re there, in his room with him. His sketchbook is filled with pictures of you, hearts usually adorning whatever space is left blank on the paper. He sees you in such a different light than you view yourself in, and he’s able to capture certain aspects of your features that you hadn’t even noticed before. He was so embarrassed the first time you saw his sketchbook laid open on his bed and tried to hide them from you, nervous he’d make you uncomfortable in any way. But you were nothing short of flattered, and reassured him of such by smattering kisses onto the expanse his flushed face and telling him how much of a sweetheart he was.

MILES who falls asleep in the span of two seconds. Usually when you can’t come over, you settle for long facetime calls so you can tell each other about your days, or watch a movie together. But he’s just so comfortable around you, and your voice is so calming, like a lullaby, so much so that he can’t help it when he falls asleep halfway into your rundown of events. After five minutes of silence, which is unheard of for a kid like Miles who is always filled with endless quips and jokes, you’ll scoop your phone off your bed only to see his ivory-colored ceiling instead of his face.

“Milesss!” You whine, the sudden sound of shuffling from the other end of the line erupting through your speakers as he frantically scoops his phone back up from his pillow, his sleepy face shifting back into view.

“Huh?” He mumbles, clearing his throat as he blinks the sleep from his eyes.

“You fell asleep in the middle of my story again.” You accuse.

“Nuh uh! I’ve been awake this whole time. I’m just a really, really good listener, m-hm. I am a wonderful and completely-awake, professional listener.” He nods, gifting you his signature goofy smile that‘s always a reminder that you can never be mad at him for long.

MILES who loves taking you to the new places he’s able to go around the city now that he’s Spiderman.

When you found out your boyfriend was Spiderman, you were in such disbelief that you immediately asked for proof, for him to show you anything that proved he was spiderman other than a suit and a mask. And proof you got, if the powerful gusts of wind in your face as he swung the two of you with web after web over the skyline of the city were anything to go by.

You were terrified the first time, legs glued around his waist and arms clamped so tightly around his neck that there was no way you’d fall. He would never in a million years let you slip from his grasp anyways, but if you did, you were damn sure taking him with you. He kept one arm around your waist for support and laughed at how you hollered almost the entire way to the clock tower, and whether they were screams of excitement or terror, he didn’t know.

It was beyond exhilarating, seeing the city from above with him, standing on the roofs of buildings you never imagined you’d reach. It had your heart pumping faster than you thought it ever could and your trust in him solidifying even further, and soon you found yourself asking him take you again, and again. And Miles would take you anywhere you wanted to go; open to doing anything just to see a smile on your face and to have you holding onto him like that again.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to any other platforms

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

[blackleatherjacketz]

Mouthy

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel has been watching you, and is willing to do anything it takes to get you to join his team.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, Teasing, Flirting, Kissing, Biting, Blood Drinking, Licking, Thigh Riding, Undressing, Voyeurism, Female Masturbation, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Word Count: 2.6k+

Read more of my MIGUEL stories!

You had been toying with Miguel all night, sparring with him until your sweaty session had resulted in swinging from rooftop to rooftop, leading his tour of your world to an end at the top of your apartment building. Three separate visits to your universe in the span of two months had led you to believe that he was getting desperate for help, or for something else. The first time he showed up was to help you battle one of the more formidable foes of your crime-fighting career, the second to ask you to join his group of heroes to fight off even bigger threats, and the third, well… you’re still trying to pin down.

If Miguel is anything, it’s persistent.

“Give up already?” He chides, denting the metal of the AC unit with his landing as you finally stop swinging.

“Who’s giving up?” You pull the mask off your sweaty face as his head piece disappears without a trace, revealing his gorgeous features and flowing raven locks.

“It’s only midnight,” he points to his watch as he walks toward you, those hips of his sauntering in a way that nearly hypnotizes you on the spot. “Plenty of other threats around the city to be squashed.”

“Then go squash them.” You challenge, tilting your head to look at him from another angle. Why can’t men in my universe look like him?

“You’d like that, huh?” He keeps advancing until he stops just short of you, his broad shoulders towering over you as a light breeze blows the smoky scent of his cologne into your nostrils. As if you hadn’t already committed it to memory. “If I did all the work?”

“Well, you can’t blame a lady for wanting to know if something’s worth her while.” You tease as he closes the space between you, backing you up against the rusted metal door of the stairwell. “Because if we’re being honest, Miguel, I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I’m perfectly fine here on my own.”

“I can see that.” His irises glow a fiery red against the white sclera of his eyes, searching your face for any hint of doubt or deceit. Your senses had been telling you that he wanted much more from you than just a teammate, the sound of his pulse quickening whenever he looked at you barely louder than the silence of his stilled breath. He wanted you… needed you almost as carnally as you needed him, and it was getting to be more difficult for either of you to ignore it.

“But don’t you want to be more than ‘just fine’?” He plants his palms against the brick structure behind you, his direct proximity tying a knot into your stomach as the night sky behind him somehow bleeds a passionate crimson hue. You can visibly see his intentions, actually feel the desire as it emanates out of his pores and into the hot summer air, drawing you in with its magnetic pull. “Don’t you want to be amazing?”

“I can tell that you do.” You smirk, prolonging your trance as you trace the bright red outline of the spider on his chest, watching it rise and fall faster with each word you speak. “Not everybody wants what you want, Miguel.”

“Is that so?” He leans in close, his full lips brushing against your ear as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. “Is that why you moan my name at night every time I leave your world?” He slides his knee swiftly between your legs, gently lifting it up the crevice of your thighs until it rubs that sensitive spot between them.

“You’ve been watching me?” You knew that he’d been keeping tabs on you from whatever little hideout he had beyond your known universe, but you didn’t realize that he was paying that close attention to you. How much of your behavior had he actually witnessed? Was he speculating, hopeful, or had he actually watched while you slid your fingers beneath your underwear to satisfy that sudden urge his presence always seemed to evoke?

“You’re surprised?” He jeers confidently, his breath hot on your neck as he draws out a groan from your chest with another brush of his thigh, tapping into your natural moisture.

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” you start, eyes fluttering to catch glimpses of that scarlet sky phasing in and out of black and magenta as he continues to stimulate you. “You get to see all of me, but I don’t get to see any of you.”

You wonder just how far he took his viewings of you late at night; how many times he tuned into his recurring guest appearances in your imagination before you pleasured yourself into a dull, blissful slumber. Had he joined you in your handiwork, stroking himself in tandem, worlds apart, just in time to mutter your name with his release before the connection was lost? Or had he stayed tuned way past your loss of consciousness, hoping to hear some verbal confirmation of his presence even in your dreams?

“We can change that, you know.” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair, his thick lashes feathering over the shell of your ear as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“You’re gonna let me spy on you when you jerk off, too?” Your breath halts as he tastes the skin behind your ear and underneath your jawline, his teeth nipping at your pulse to make you pay for your quippy retort.

“Aye, cariño, are you always this mouthy?” He grabs onto your chin in a failed attempt to reign you in, the tips of his protracted claws nearly breaking your skin as he thrusts himself against you.

“You have no idea.”

—————————————

Miguel manages to stumble into your apartment with your legs wrapped around his waist, his clawed hands grasping at your thighs as they desperately cling to his hips. He pulls you up into him as he rounds the corner past your couch, his erection stretching the navy blue fabric of his suit as it grows harder against the drenched mound between your legs.

“You fucking taste like heaven, you know that?” He whispers through a dozen hungry kisses, the sharp sting to your skin and the iron of your blood flooding your senses as he bites down onto your bottom lip, wantonly sucking it into his mouth. That twinge of pain that would have hurt before you got your powers is nothing more than a scratch, a mere tickle as the warmth of his tongue soon counters it. He tugs and pulls every bit of flavor he can out of it, savoring each hint of salt and remnant of coffee on your tastebuds as he nearly gnaws your lip right off in the process, running into every wall along the way until he eventually reaches your bedroom.

“I thought you said those things were venomous.” You worry aloud, just now noticing their size and severity as he tosses you onto your bed with a lick of his lips.

“Only when I need them to be.” He grins and helps you peel your suit off your arms and torso, tugging it down past your hips and thighs before stepping out of his own spider suit with unmatchable ease. Eyes ravenous with lust, he watches you pull the last bit of stretchy cloth off your calves and feet, licking the tips of his fangs again as you toss your costume onto the floor.

“Well that’s lucky for me, then.” You sit up and press your knees into the mattress in order to get closer to him.

“Lucky for both of us.” He slides his thumbs beneath his boxer briefs and exposes what he’s working with, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Before you can comment on how big he is, before you can make a joke about how you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, he steps toward you and places his hand in the middle of your chest, pushing you flat onto your back.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs sternly.

“What?” Your brow furrows. Hasn’t he gotten enough of that through his viewfinder? Wasn’t that the whole point of him coming here in person? To actually touch you with his own hands and taste you with his own mouth? So that he didn’t have to just watch?

“I want you to touch yourself like you do when you think I’m not watching,” he reiterates, standing his ground as he resists the temptation to stroke himself, a single droplet of precum leaking from the tip of his cock.

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, his demanding tone of flattery quickly fueling your actions as it overpowers that inherent sense of stage fright nagging in the back of your head. “I can do that.”

You watch him hold his breath as you slide two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them as gratuitously as you can before pulling them out with a long trail of spit leading down your chin. His eyes follow your digits with rapt attention as you bring them down your body, their deep ruby hues darkening to burgundy as his pupils begin to dilate. You hear his breath hitch as you graze over your hardened nipples, snake your way down your navel and finally smooth them in between your soaking wet folds, exciting the sensitive neurons that have been begging for attention since the moment he arrived.

Doing as you’re told, you spread your juices up and down the length of your lips, catching a glimpse of his cock twitching against his stomach in anticipation, throbbing as you slowly pull upward on your clit. You can’t help but wonder how amazing he’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, your fingers barely able to do his length and girth any justice as you slide them inside your walls.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he finally exhales with a hint of a moan. He retracts his claws with a bite of his lip, cautiously touching your bare feet with the palms of his hands before slowly spreading your legs apart as he continues to watch you work. “Who knew your pussy’d be just as pretty as your face, huh?”

You huff in exasperation, too stunned to speak as his grin mimics your smile from the edge of the bed.

“You look even better from this angle, you know that?” Another lick of his lips spurns a trail of kisses onto the balls of your feet as he crawls between your legs, sucking little bruises into your calves and behind your knees; mementos for you to remember him by once he inevitably returns to his own world. You keep rubbing your bud up and down as he advances along your body; his lips, teeth and tongue massaging the skin of your inner thigh as waves of pleasure start building up into your core from both of your tantalizing efforts.

It isn’t long before he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, biting into your thigh once more before looking up at you with completely blackened eyes, your blood now staining his lips as it smears across his cheek. You moan as he takes his time lapping up the scarlet fluid as it mixes with his saliva, dripping down between your crevices as his mouth gets that much closer to your needy center.

Without a word of warning, he grabs onto your wrist and carefully pulls your fingers out of your swollen heat before encircling them with his lips. Those charcoal eyes of his roll back into his head, a deep guttural groan vibrating around your fingers as his tongue surrounds them, the savory flavor of your blood now blending in with the sweet tanginess of your sex. You push them in even further past his blood-stained lips, shivering in arousal as he sucks all the way down to your knuckles, making a sloppy show of licking them clean before finally drawing them out.

“Not so mouthy anymore, huh?” He asks, kissing the palm of your hand before lifting it up and placing your wet fingers into his hair.

“Uh-uh,” you whisper, the heat from his breath sending phantom pulses of bliss up through your spine, leaving you practically speechless.

“Then let’s see if I can get you to make some noise.” He licks a stripe up the length of your folds, choosing not to use his fangs on your most sensitive area as he focuses solely on tasting your raw flesh. He groans into your skin as he licks you up and down, inhaling your pheromonal scent as if your very essence is the only thing capable of sustaining him any further.

Your eyelids fall shut as you allow a few breathy moans to escape your lips, his tongue saturating every receptor you have with such an intense euphoria that it forces your hips to buck up into his mouth. Your grip on his onyx locks tightens as he continues to suck on your clit, pulling it taut into his mouth just like he had with your bottom lip, persistently eating you out like a man starved for days.

“See how good you are at following my orders?” He stops licking you just as you’re on the brink of ecstasy, a thin ring of red now glowing around the rims of his irises. “I just need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” You barely have the capacity to ask, your muscles vibrating beneath him with the promise of release that he so quickly took away from you.

His full lips curl into a smirk as he licks your bud one last time, kissing his way up your belly and breasts before reaching your neck, his cock needily bobbing between your legs until it slides inside you without ceremony. You gasp as his girth fills you up with impeccable ease, your slick walls welcoming his thick throbbing member, clenching down around him as he gently thrusts up into you.

“Miguel!” You shout in a stifled whisper, stars shining in your eyes as the tip of his cock hits that bundle of nerves he’s been teasing all night.

“Come for me,” he growls against your throat, all traces of that controlled man fading away as he pins your wrists to the mattress before bottoming out completely, rutting into you repeatedly like a wild animal.

“Mmm hmm!” Your moans echo off the walls in your bedroom as he drives himself further inside your heat, ricocheting off your nightstand and ceiling fan until they dissipate into the air above you, falling down like raindrops as they cover you both. His hips only quicken their steady pace the deeper he gets, sending hit after hit of white hot bliss up into your core until your body can no longer take it.

That wave of pleasure you’re so used to delivering yourself nearly takes you out completely as it washes over every inch of you from the inside out. It paints every cell in your skin, muscles and bones all the colors of the rainbow under Miguel’s hypnotic thrusts, his sweat dripping down onto you in tiny translucent beads before melting into your skin. Both of you phase in and out a variety of shades and patterns as you wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him in to make sure he feels the heightened state of nirvana he’s finally brought you to.

“I can feel you falling apart around me, cariño,” he whispers into your shoulder, thrusting one last time as hard as he can as he twitches and spasms inside you. Lavender paisleys, red and white stripes, olive and orange checkers all slowly fade away to a calm light blue before he pulls out and eventually lets go of your wrists. “You sure you don’t want to join my team?”

[inrockstarfashion]

Lando just wants you in his lap all the time. It’s an easy way to be close to you without having to stop what he’s doing, like having a conversation, watching a movie, gaming, etc. However, the first time he did it, he was home for a weekend and spending a lot of time catching up on livestreams with Max.

Lando got an idea and paused the game for a moment.

“Babe? Are you busy?” He is greeted with footsteps walking closer to the room.

“Not really. What’s up?” You answer leaning in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame.

“Can you come here?” He turns his gaming chair towards you. “Please?” His voice is slightly whiny.

You give him a hesitant look but walk over to him anyways. He reaches out for you, grabbing ahold of your hips and pulling you into his lap before reaching for his controller, trapping you between his arms, and starting up the game. At first you were confused because he never said anything after that other than yelling at his PC when his character died.

“Lando?”

“Hm?”

“What exactly am I here for?”

“Am I not allowed to miss my girlfriend?” He defended himself while still locked in on whatever game he and Max were playing. Your heart melt a little bit at his statement and accepted his response. You readjusted yourself so you lay your head on his shoulder and watched him play his game, drawing random shapes on the front on his shirt.

Eventually, you got kind of bored and asked Lando if you could take a turn next time he died. He perked up a bit at your question and agreed, showing you the different controls before passing it off to you, removing his headphones, ruffling his curls, and placing them over your ears, letting you readjust them before starting another round. Lando wrapped his arms around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder to watch you play his game. He listened to you and Max make conversation and laughed when you accidentally fell off a cliff.

“Chat is going absolutely mental over you two right now.” Max stated is disbelief, reading off some of the comments. “‘I want what Lando and Y/n have’, ‘The only thing I’m kissing is a shotgun after this stream!’” Max laughed and continued to read off a few more comments that caught his eye. Lando just smiled and squeezed you tighter, giving you a light kiss on your neck before returning to his original position.

————

I’ve been binge watching a lot of Lando’s and Max’s old streams and the March 7, 2023 stream is easily on of my top favorites to watch. I’ve been working on another fic with Max Verstappen but it’s taking me much longer than I thought but watching the livestreams gave me this idea and wanted to get something out. Hope you enjoyed this short little drabble until I can get time to work on my other story. Let me know if you have any ideas and if you want to see something for another driver!

Ciao!

[billfarrah]

One of my favourite things about Young Royals and its characters is how much it romanticizes being utterly ordinary.

Stories often focus on characters who are exceptionally good at something or who are more ambitious than the average person. Even in the teen shows I’ve watched, these young characters always seemed to have their dream career and dream university figured out at a young age and I could never relate to that because I had none of those things figured out as a teen. It always felt like pushing this narrative that teenagers need to have their entire lives figured out before their brains are even fully developed.

None of the characters in YR seem particularly ambitious and in fact, the main character’s journey is a story of anti-ambition. When he is introduced to Simon, it is precisely Simon’s ordinariness that draws Wille to him. Sure, Simon is a very talented singer, but it’s never indicated within the series that he has dreams of being a pop star. It’s just something he likes to do. Simon is motivated by very ordinary things - he wants to do well in school so he can have better opportunities for himself, he wants to take care of his family, he wants to hang out with his friends and play video games. He’s a dedicated student but not necessarily valedictorian. It’s not his ambition that Wille is drawn to but his integrity and kindness and warmth.

Wille had a chance to be extraordinary - to be Sweden’s first gay king - but being extraordinary has never been Wille’s ambition. Wille’s ultimate goal and dream within the series’ narrative is to be free to make his own decisions and live his life as he pleases. He just wants to kiss his boyfriend and get drunk at parties and live his life one day at a time instead of spending every moment of his life preparing for an inevitable future he doesn’t want. In the end Wille is extraordinary not for his ambition, but for his bravery to reject the expectations thrust upon him and throw himself into the unknown and see where it takes him. Wille had a whole future in front of him as crown prince and future king - he’d never have to work a day in his life and would have people advising his every move - and he rejects that. This lack of ambition is not portrayed as a moral failure, but a necessary step in Wille’s journey to personal self-discovery and fulfillment of his own desires. His desire right now is simple - be free with Simon, but that doesn’t mean his dreams end here forever. He deserves peace and tranquility after all the trauma he’s been through without having to worry about where or who he’s gonna be in a few years. He deserves time to just exist.

None of the characters know where they’re going when they drive away at the end. We as the audience don’t know what careers if any these characters will find themselves in, but that’s also not important to this story. The series is saying you don’t have to have everything figured out when you’re 17 and you don’t have to do something just because your parents think they know what’s best for you and even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the agency to know what you don’t want.

It’s not a moral failing to want the simple things in life or to be ordinary, and I love that Young Royals celebrates that. It shows the beauty in simple moments that feel revolutionary to a person - touching the person you love, forgiving someone and making amends after a hardship, whooping with your friends in a car as you drive into the summer and celebrates them. Ultimately these are the moments that make life worth living.

[userlando]

unravel me — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x fem!reader [2.9k] summary: every day was an adventure with daniel in one way or another and that’s probably why you agreed so easily to wear the godforsaken panties in the first place. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, semi-public sex, edging, reader wears vibrating panties in public. a/n: fic one of smutober and the kink i decided to focus on is orgasm control. i had a lot of fun writing this one so i hope you enjoy it!! x

It had been something that was supposed to be funny, that would make the both of you giggle whenever you thought back on the moment but now, as you sat there clutching the edge of the table until your fingertips turned bleak, you couldn’t find the humour in it at all.

The dinner had been planned two days earlier, with George sending out an innocent text to the entire grid residing in Monaco, that contained a dinner invitation that Daniel was the first to reply to. You had been a little excited, you couldn’t lie. Between different foreign countries and hotel rooms that were all starting to look the same, you found little to no time to get the gang together for a fun night out.

Daniel was always mindful of how much time he spent on anything that wasn’t you, never wanting to leave you feeling left out or like you were a low priority to him because that was so far from the truth. He took you out, wined and dined you like the perfect cheeky gentleman that he was. He’d have the drinks flowing out, flirt with you and even stretch a leg out to play footsie with you until you were giggling and buzzed, warm all over with an undying need for him to get his hands on you.

Three years together and he still found ways to keep things exciting and entertaining. Every day was an adventure with him in one way or the other and that’s probably why you agreed so easily to wear the godforsaken panties in the first place. He’d found them on an obscure website, grinning from ear to ear when the package got delivered and your interest had been piqued at the regular old cardboard box in his hands as he carried it over to you. Your interest sound turned into mild concern when he revealed its contents, the words vibrating panties staring right up at you a little tauntingly.

“No way.” You’d told him when he arched an inquisitive eyebrow that said so much with so little words.

That no had turned into a yes when he wrapped his arms around you and swayed the both of you back and forth, giving you little kisses until you were squirming out of his grasp because you’d spent way too much time on your makeup for him to ruin it with his ass kissing.

He’d giggled with glee when you slipped the panties on, pressing the ones you’d been wearing into his hands with a grumble. It was the same giggle he was holding back now as he sat across from you at the table. His head was turned, nodding along to whatever Lando was saying but you could tell that his mind was somewhere else, focused on the tiny inconspicuous remote he was most likely fiddling with beneath the table.

You contemplated stretching your foot out to hopefully stab his toes with your stiletto, but knew that there was no way you could do it without drawing attention to yourself.

“Are you okay?” Lily’s voice drifted into your ears, interrupting your inner turmoil.

You glanced at her, finding her eyes watching you too closely that it nearly made you sweat. She knew you well enough to read what was showing on your face, so you made an effort to keep your face neutral and your smile unbothered.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” Your voice was a little too high and you realised that when her eyebrows jumped, clearing your throat roughly.

The hand that was holding a fork moved and she pointed at it toward your hand. You glanced down, letting out a breathless laugh at the way you’d subconsciously gripped the table cloth in an iron grip. You forced yourself to relax, slowly letting it go.

“I just…” You gave her a quick smile. “I’ve got cramps, shit’s killing me.”

Her face softened in understanding, hands letting go of the cutlery to reach for her purse but you quickly stopped her when you realised what she was trying to do. Any other day and you would’ve taken a moment to really think of how much you loved your friend, but your mind was already fuzzy. Like someone had stuffed your head full of cotton.

“It’s okay, I took something before so it’ll pass.” You quickly assured her and Lily eyed you suspiciously with only a little concern.

“If you say so.” She said slowly.

You only managed to relax when her attention was pulled from you to Alex, silently thanking her boyfriend for unknowingly saving you but your relief was short-lived. Your boyfriend was clearly out to get you, making his presence known by flicking a button on the remote and setting the vibrations off in your underwear.

The sharp spike of unexpected pleasure was so jarring that you barely managed to keep the gasp in, hands digging into your thighs to keep yourself grounded from the incessant buzzing between your legs. You glanced up at your boyfriend, finding him staring straight at you with a poorly concealed grin that you had half a mind to slap from his face. Daniel was looking a little too smug and you quickly regretted the glare you shot him because he was quick to retaliate, upping the vibration.

“Ha!” The sharp gasp that escaped you had both Kika and Lily looking this time, and you felt your entire body grow hot in embarrassment.

Never before had you felt as conflicted between mortification and unyielding pleasure.

“You okay?” Kika asked and you opened your mouth but Lily beat you to it.

“She’s got cramps.” She helpfully explained, sounding sympathetic enough for you to feel a little bad for lying to her.

But you couldn’t tell her the truth, you’d rather have the ground open up beneath you and swallow you while.

The entire ordeal was mortifying and you couldn’t do anything but nod wordlessly, silently sending a thanks to your lucky stars that the rest of your friends were so loud and chattery. You didn’t know what you’d do if you had gotten a few more pairs of eyes on you, especially when those eyes belonged to your boyfriend’s friends and colleagues.

“You need anything? I’ve got both pads and tampons.” Kika whispered and the offer was so sweet you couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed with her.

After all, it wasn’t her fault. This was Daniel’s work and you wanted him to pay. Especially when he was looking so smug while your entire being was crumbling in on itself in pleasure and mortification.

“Do you need tampons?” Charlotte’s voice joined your hushed conversation and you internally groaned.

Oh God, you’re going to hell.

��No, I’m fine.” You waved the three of them off, grateful for their thoughtfulness but you didn’t need their attention on you.

You glanced at Daniel, shooting him daggers and that seemed to do the trick because the buzzing slowed down, eventually stopping and you relaxed in your chair. You hadn’t realised how wound up tight you’d gotten, inner thighs slick and panties sodden.

The conversation carried on and you didn’t focus, not really. It was hard to when Daniel was sitting across from you, looking as good as he did. It never ceased to amaze you how amazing he always looked, admiring the way his shirt was unbutton at the top and folded so perfectly that it showed off a sliver of his amazing chest. You wanted to bite that spot, mark up his neck to the point where he couldn’t wear anything with a low collar.

Your mind drifted further away the longer you looked, thinking of how you suddenly wanted to go home. How you weren’t up to staying around for dessert when you were absolutely throbbing.

Brown doe eyes glanced your way and your eyebrow twitched, biting back a sudden shy smile when the Aussie man smiled your way. You hurriedly reached for your glass of water, mouth feeling a little dry and really, you should’ve seen it coming. But you gulped too much water and Daniel’s fingers found the remote, switching it on. You were so unprepared that you promptly inhaled the water, sputtering it right out.

“Fuck.” You groaned as Kika slipped the glass from your hand before it slipped from your grasp, letting you cough until your throat was sore and your nose was burning.

“You alright, babe?” The innocent voice of your boyfriend made you squint up at him, coughing into your fist with a shake of the head.

“Wrong hatch.” You meekly explained, as if it wasn’t obvious.

With your throat cleared and your face wiped from water, you belatedly realised that you’d caught the attention of the whole group. They were all watching with different levels of concern and you shakily waved them off.

“It’s fine, I’m just gonna go to the restroom and freshen up.” You pushed your chair out as gently as possible, standing up cautiously because your legs were rattling like you’d run a marathon.

There was no feeling in them as you walked away, distinctly hearing Daniel’s voice dripping with faux concern as he excused himself. Let me just go check on the missus.

You loved when he called you that, and it secretly made you smile as you weaved between the tables and spotted the sign for the restrooms a few metres away, sighing in relief as you pushed the door open and stepped inside. You were feeling feverish, turned on beyond belief and you knew that there was only one person that could relieve that pressure off of you.

It was expected but it still made you jump when the door opened and a familiar figure filled the vast empty space. He looked a little flushed and a whole lot of handsome, grin on his face getting smothered as quickly as it came when you stumbled forward and caught his lips in a bruising kiss.

He answered eagerly, making a small sound against your mouth as he walked the both of you back into the furthest stall, arms wound around you to keep you from falling. You giggled, out of breath and aching when your back hit the swinging door of the stall, stumbling into each other.

The snip of the lock echoed in the quiet room but you paid it no mind as you tasted the fancy wine on your boyfriend’s tongue, feeling drunk off of it and him simultaneously.

“God, fuck—“ You gasped when he pushed you flush against the side of the stall, allowing you to feel his straining cock against your abdomen. You leaned into it, biting him a little too hard on his lip but Daniel only moaned, kissing you harder. “You’re such a fucking asshole. I hate you.”

“Uh huh.” He didn’t sound the least fazed, hands gripping everywhere they could. Your hips and ass ached as he grabbed them in his hold, prying your mouth open so he could lick into it. “Fucking driving me wild.”

“Likewis—“ Your word was lost in a gasp as the buzzing unexpectedly came to life between your legs, doubling over in a depraved moan that you desperately tried to hide by biting his shoulder.

Daniel snorted and you let go of his arm to slap it weakly, making him turn it up a notch. The guttural moan that came out of your mouth made him absolutely ache in his pants, and he pushed his hips into you; feeling the distinct buzz of your underwear.

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, darling?” He whispered and you nodded, breath hitching with every inhale. “Do it, be a good girl for me.”

You could feel yourself climbing, thighs tensing up in anticipation and you were so lost in the oncoming pleasure that you couldn’t focus on anything else. That’s why the sudden hand pressing to your gaping mouth took you by surprise, the buzzing ceasing and taking your orgasm away with it. You made a sound of devastation, frowning hard as you stared up into the face of your boyfriend. His wide eyes should’ve alarmed you, and it took a second to realise why he suddenly looked nervous.

The sound of footsteps against the tile made you pause, subconsciously holding your breath as you listened to the click clack of heels make their way to what you assumed was the sinks. The tap turned on and you stared into wide brown eyes as the two women started speaking in French, sounding a lot like they were gossiping, having unknowingly walked into something that shouldn't have been happening so publicly.

Daniel’s lips slowly turned into a smile, looking like someone had dropped the best gift right into his lap as he slowly realised that this would add to the fun rather than interrupt it. You could see the gears turning in his head as you stared at each other, jutting your hips out to brush against his hard cock.

He bit back a hiss, pushing harder against your mouth with his palm and watching your eyes flutter.

“Quiet.” He mouthed, his other hand reaching into his pocket and you made a pleading, muffled sound when the panties went off once again.

Daniel stared straight at your face, watching the frown of your eyebrows dissipate as pleasure started melting into your expression, eyes rolling as they closed. Your knees buckled a bit, like you couldn’t keep yourself upright and it was only when your hands gripped his arms that he knew you were well and truly on your way to orgasming.

“Yeah?” He whispered, so low that he might as well have been mouthing the words and you nodded, pants coming out harshly through your nose.

He knew you were becoming a little too loud, but he didn’t care as he watched your head drop back, eyelids fluttering shut as your body locked up beneath him. You came with a muffled wail, gripping his arms so tightly that you surely must’ve bruised them.

The roaring in your ears made it hard to hear, too focused on not getting overstimulated as Daniel gradually dialled down the power, until the buzzing finally stopped. You felt him remove his hand from your mouth, only opening your eyes when he’d pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Welcome back.” He whispered, looking and sounding way too pleased with himself.

You shook your head with a smile, but it dropped just as fast when you thought of the women outside the stall.

“They’re gone.” He said, like he could read your mind and he probably could. Daniel crooked a strand of hair behind your ear, nuzzling his nose against your cheek lovingly before giving you a kiss. “Your noises made them scurry off.”

“Shut up.” You flushed, pushing him off of you as you stood upright. The shake in your legs made Daniel grin, but you chose to ignore it. “God, we’ve been gone for way too long, haven’t we?”

He made a noncommittal noise that sounded a lot like I don’t fucking care, pushing the door open after unlocking it and gesturing out. You took a step before pausing, narrowing your eyes in distrust before reaching down and slipping the panties down your legs.

Daniel made a sound you couldn’t decipher when you stepped out of them, ignoring how wet they were and balling it up in a grimace.

“I don’t trust you to keep that remote untouched.” You said, biting back a smile when he shot you an offended look.

“I’d never do such a thing.” He said, but the grin on his face said an entirely different thing.

You couldn’t help but smile back, stuffing the underwear into his pocket and walking past him to wash your hands.

“So, what’s gonna be our excuse?” He asked, joining you by the sinks and leaning back against the marble.

You briefly considered feigning food poisoning, thinking that maybe it’d would work and you’d be able to slip away. It’d only been two hours but that meant nothing when it came to your friends, knowing that you all liked to stay that extra hour and pound so many drinks that the majority of you stumbled out of the restaurant.

Daniel handed you a paper towel, your mouth open to answer him belatedly but the door opening made you shut it quickly. The elderly woman that stepped inside halted when she caught sight of your boyfriend, frowning deeply as she looked between him and the sign on the door that clearly indicated that it was the ladies’ room.

You bit back an amused giggle, doing your best to look apologetic as Daniel reached for your hand, apologising with laughter in his voice and pulling you along until you both escaped the confines of the restroom.

The both of you couldn’t stop laughing as you made your way back to the table, slipping into your chairs unnoticed because somehow in your absence, the gang had turned even rowdier.

You watched Daniel settle back in his chair across from you, eyes locking onto yours and you hid a smile as one eyelid dropped in a wink. It made your body heat up all over, feeling like a school girl with a crush as you turned your attention somewhere else.

The snort that came from Lily’s mouth sounded way too amused and you glanced at her.

“What?”

“You two are as subtle as a brick through a window.”

You elbowed her. “Shut up.”

Lily hid a laugh behind her hand. “No, no. It’s sweet in a completely gross way.”

You glanced at Daniel, smile impossible to hold back as you watched him throw his head back to bellow out a laugh and it was your favourite sound in the world.

"What can I say? I'm a lucky girl."

[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration - Part Two

Summary: John writes back to his friend from home and we hear from our friend across the way. John x She. Word Count: 1.2k. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. pstttt also should we name her? do you all want to send me random john prompts. my baby isn't ok and i'm not ok. Part one linked here. Part three linked here.

John was sure he wasn't sweating a normal amount as he looked down at the piece of paper that Buck had offered him. It had taken two whole days of questions from the man for Bucky to even decide that he was going to reply. He’d been offered the hope, what more could he ask of her. Could he ask more? There had been a return address on the letter which Buck had insisted was there for a reason and she had opened herself out for a reply from him but the Major couldn’t help but be unsure.

It was an odd feeling for him, before the war he hadn't been unsure of anything and since he’d been here? Well he hadn’t been sober enough to doubt anything that he had done. These days though Bucky felt like he doubted every single thing. The thing was, he wasn't sure that he could afford to doubt this, to look past the life line that had been offered to him. Not when each day he could feel his mind draw a little further toward the edge no matter how much he or Buck tried to keep it in check.

With a sigh he pulled the pen into his hand, eyes locked on the page for a moment before he began to scrawl.

Dear Friend From Home 

You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you. 

I think the first thing I got to say is thank you. I don’t know if the words I can put on paper are ever going to really tell you how much your letter meant to me. See I was a certain type of man that didn’t think much to pen pals. I figured that I’d be ok, you know, that with my boys I’d have what I needed to make it through the hard days but watching the letters for everyone else roll in has been harder than I thought it might. 

There are things that I can’t tell you cause I don’t know who might read these letters, and where I am I can’t get you no picture but I can tell you that my favorite dish is a meat and potato pie, simple I know but really I’m a simple hearty kind of guy. What makes me laugh, you asked? That’s kind of simple for me too, just good company, myself sometimes, Buck, he’s my best friend, he makes me laugh a lot. What makes you laugh? I’d like to know that. 

May I know where you are? I know that might be a big ask but you said I could ask anything I know and if I get out of here…we get some leave, I’d like to know where I need to ask for me leave to be. Then I can show you what I sound and look like and know that in return. 

If this letter doesn’t reach you for a while, know you’ve been with me the whole time. 

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration

Major John Egan 

“What if she doesn’t get it?” He found himself questioning quietly to Buck as he handed over the letter to make it out of camp. His best friend settled him with a soft look, one that always made Bucky feel like he had some worldly knowledge the rest of them had missed out on, that assured him everything was going to be alright. “You just gotta have hope she will John, she’ll get it.” 

With a huff Bucky nodded, pulling his hat on as he watched his letter vanish from his view all together. “Alright well I can’t sit here and wonder, I’m off to play baseball or something.”

The letter that Bucky had so carefully handed over changed hands many more times, some fingers as rough as the pilots, some dirtier, some softer, but the last set of fingers to slide the letter from her post box had perfectly manicured fingers. Her flicking of her post was greedy as she looked for the same thing that she had every day since she’d posted her own letter.

At first, her hopes of finding what she was looking for had been unrealistic; she knew that, it hadn’t even been long enough for her letter to be received, let alone for him to get one back to her, then the other girls at the centre, they’d gotten letters back, notes, anything. That was when she had allowed her hope to return, for a moment at least. Days without anything had turned into weeks and then weeks had turned into months. Anything could have happened, that was what she tried to tell herself, he might not have gotten her letter, he might have thought it was weird and had chosen not to reply. That thought was enough to miff her, he could have at least said thank you. When she had decided no one could be that mean, her diminishing hope had turned to worry, what if he hadn't been able to receive her letter.

Flicking through each white envelope today, she almost missed it, how she didn't know because it was clearly different from the rest of them, maybe she hadn't wanted to look. "Not…" Trailing off she flicked back to the second to last letter, her eyes taking in the scrawling of her address, her eyes checking the postage before she was taring inside. "It's here, he wrote it's here." She called through the halls to the other girls that she lived with, all of which had been holding their breath with her. "Oh god I can't read it, what if he's telling me I was weird!" She cried, thrusting the unopened letter into the hands of her eager friend.

"Don't be dramatic, he's going to be throwing down his gratitude at you being a doll, you should have attached a picture with it I told you!" Meg beamed easily back at her, the same sense of reservation missing from her actions as she tore into the letter so that it could be read to the group. "Dear Friend From Home. You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you." That was enough, pulling the letter from Megs hands she was quick to scramble away from the group once more, locking herself into her room as re-read the opening line herself, the tears in her eyes only welling even further as she continued.

An ache in her chest formed as she read the words once more, taking in each strike of his pen where he had corrected himself or smudge from whatever he'd had on his fingers. The state of the letter was enough to make her wonder, but at least for now, she knew her friend was ok. He was alive, and he wanted to hear more from her. It couldn't have been normal, to feel this level of emotion for a man that she had never met, but she had found herself here regardless and in the middle of so much uncertainty, she wasn't going to question the pull she felt across the way to England.

Pushing from her bed she moved to her desk, paper pulled from her stationary pot, the quicker she could post this the quicker it could get to him.

"Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too…"

[watchmegetobsessed]

MY HUSBAND

A/N: some extra fluffiness bc this scene was stuck on my mind all day

WORD COUNT: 835

SUMMARY: It's been days since your wedding, but it is just now sinking in. Harry is your husband.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It’s a miracle you’re up before noon. You haven’t really seen the sun before twelve these past days even though you are supposed to be on vacation.

Well, honeymoon, to be precise. 

That’s right. You married your best friend and love of your life exactly four days ago, but it still feels like a fever dream. You got the wedding of your dreams in the Italian countryside with all your loved ones, family and closest friends, you danced the night away celebrating the start of your marriage. Part of you expected an extraordinary feeling the moment you said ‘I do’ and it really was the best day of your life, but you haven’t quite processed the change it has brought to your life.

Now you’re lying in bed, the warm breeze is carrying the salty scent of the sea through the open windows and you’re watching Harry snoozing peacefully beside you in bed, the crispy, white sheets are tangled around his waist, but most of his upper body is fully naked to your sleepy eyes. He looks beautiful, delicious, like a dream and it finally hits you, like a switch has been flipped.

He is your husband. Harry is now your husband.

Lifting your head up above you, you stare at your wedding band with a full heart and giddy head. It’s such a simple, tiny object but it means so much, if not everything. Even after five years of dating, seven years of being friends, it’s still hard to believe Harry chose you the way you chose him to spend the rest of your life with. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you turn to your side and examine his side profile in the soft light. The slope of his nose, his puckered lips, his curly eyelashes fanned out perfectly… The way his chest slowly rises with each breath he draws and how his ribs are showing through his soft skin, since one of his arms is tucked under his head, the other one is somewhere under your pillow. He is radiating warmth and every inch of his perfect body is screaming to be kissed. 

At first you reach out and run your fingers down his sternum, across his tummy and over his little happy trail that disappears underneath the sheets and you know for a fact he is wearing nothing, because you were the one who freed him of his clothes last night when you got back from dinner. 

He doesn’t react to your touch, so you dare to draw the laurel tattoos on his hips with the pad of your finger before pulling your hand back and admiring his beauty in silence. But then the urge is just too hard to fight and you push yourself up, the sheets pooling around your naked waist and you lean over, bringing your lips to the delicious, exposed skin just above his navel.

You pepper tiny kisses down his stomach, over his belly button and down his happy trail, kissing each of the laurels as well and that’s when he takes a deep breath, his hands moving to his face to rub his eyes.

When he finally opens them you’re sitting up next to him, staring down at him with a beaming smile.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks in that irresistible, groggy morning voice that makes your insides turn in an instant.

“You’re my husband.”

You see the surprise on his face at first along with the confusion before he breaks out into a smile.

“I am, yeah,” he grins, his hand reaching out and settling on your waist. “And you’re my wife,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Doesn’t that sound… magical?” you sigh dreamily and he finally understands what this is all about.

“It does. I love the sound of it. I’ve been waiting for a long time to call you that.”

Heat crawls up your neck at his words, even after all this time he never fails to make you giddy.

“We’re not just girlfriend and boyfriend anymore.” Moving closer you lie back down as his arms lock around you, pulling you on top of him.

“Mm, not anymore,” he smirks.

“You’re not just my fiancé…” you keep musing and Harry nods. “You are… my husband.”

“That’s right,” he chuckles and you can feel his chest vibrating under you. 

“Thank you.”

“For being your husband?” he arches an eyebrow.

“For choosing me.”

“I didn’t choose you,” he says, squeezing your sides. “There was no choice to make, no decision. I knew you were it for me, I didn’t have to even think about it.”

“You always say you knew it the moment we met.”

“I did.”

“But we didn’t even talk that night, how would have you known?” Harry shrugs.

“I just did. In here,” he says, tapping his chest with one hand. When it returns to your waist you lean down and kiss his peck over his heart. 

“Alright then,” you smile at him. “I believe you, husband.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[mistydeyes]

141 boys and your oddly specific hobby

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summary: Most people have hobbies like drawing or bird watching, however, yours are more unique. Regardless of your odd interests, the 141 still loves you, their quirky significant other!

pairing: 141 x gn!Reader

warnings: swearing

a/n: By popular vote, this won so please enjoy :)

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Price - matchbook collecting

When you first met Price, it was when you both dipped your hands into the matchbook jar. The jar sat at the host stand of a dive bar and you both happened to go for it at the same time. Although, you two had different motives. Him, because he forgot his lighter, and you, because you wanted to add something else to your collection. He wouldn’t pass up on a pretty face who he presumed also smoked, so he invited you for a light. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were just a collector so you joined him outside.

What started as a quick smoke ended up being two hours of witty conversation. As your pleasantries turned into various topics and ramblings, you were glad you finished the cigar quickly, trying to emulate the mature man’s actions. He vaguely talked about his occupation, a high-ranking military man, and you talked about your non-comparable, boring civilian life. However as the late night hours slowly approached, you wrote your number on his matchbook and thanked him for the cigar and friendly chat.

On your next date, you revealed your odd hobby to Price. “I’ve been collecting them as a child. It’s like collecting snow globes from different destinations but much easier to display and transport,” you said as you both leisurely sipped your drinks. “And to think I thought you were out for a smoke, good thing I left my lighter that day, Love” he replied and gave you a subtle wink. You eventually showed him pictures of your growing collection, recounting where each one was from and showing him some of your favorites.

Soon everywhere he went, Price noticed the unique matchbooks. It started with pocketing a matchbox while he was in Amsterdam and grew slowly. Soon he would start a collection of his own, bringing them home to you with a story of where they each came from. After what seemed like 30 matchbooks in Price's collection, the 141 took notice. “Captain, you some pyromaniac or something,” Soap joked. “Just for my partner, weird collection of there’s” Price responded and no one questioned him further. Although, he still keeps the matchbook that has your number on it in his collection.

Soap - soap making

“You’re never gonna believe me, but I make soap as a side business.” Soap thought it was a joke at first, something to make him laugh when you first met. But when he entered your flat, he was shocked at how honest you were. Your walls were filled with shelves lined with every scent known to man along with hundreds of designed soaps. It smelled like a Lush store when he walked in and he marveled at your creations.

You watched him bask in the glory of the soap for a moment as you laughed heartily. "I told you so," you said as he went about sniffing each one and examining them. You organized them by scent and interrupted him as he approached the floral section. "Having fun there, Johnny?" you asked and he looked up at you as he held one of your rose-scented creations in his hand. "Can't believe this," he said and you smiled as he continued. Eventually, after he had smelt every single bar, you took him into a room where you were working on some new items for your fall collection.

"You have more!" he gasped and went to examine the bars of soap in their molds. "My Autumn collection," you said proudly, "here come smell this one." You led him to a table that housed an orange-hued soap slab with leaves delicately placed throughout the hardened bar. He held the slab in one hand and placed it up to his nose. His eyes lit up as a mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, and pumpkin filled his nostrils. "Smells like a pie," he joked and you showed him various others.

For his return from deployment, you had a surprise. You had spent weeks perfecting this formula and finally were satisfied. As you walked to his flat, you gently tugged on the striped ribbon that tied the parcel together. When he opened the door, he noticed the box in your hands and ushered you in. He excitedly tugged the ribbon off the box and opened it. He gasped when he saw two bars in the colors of the Scottish flag lying on a pile of recycled confetti. "What's this?" he asked and you motioned for him to turn the bars over and smell them. As his calloused hands turned the soft bar over, he noticed the packaging said "The Scotsman." He smiled widely as he placed them both up to his nose, taking in the smells of rain and pine. You swear you could see him tear up when he said, "Reminds me of my own home."

After this, he insisted you mass produce these bars of soap for his friends. You sheepishly did so and when you presented it to the other 141, Gaz loudly remarked, "He's finally done it, Soap is now a bar of soap." 

Gaz - raising butterflies

He had heard about people having pets—even raising chickens but never butterflies. Your house was a sanctuary, filled with small enclosures of cocoons along with various flowers for your butterflies to suck nectar from. When he entered your house, it was like that scene where Alice first sees all the flowers in Wonderland. He felt like a child, seeing all the gorgeous wings floating around the room. He saw a delicately monarch land on a peony and approached it quietly.

"Here hold out your finger like this," you said and showed him how to stand gently and hold out his pointer finger. As he followed your actions, the butterfly gently landed on him. He looked in awe at the insect and you stealthily took a picture of him. The rest of the afternoon, you described to him what flowers butterflies like best and the lengthy process of tending to them before they reached metamorphosis.

Whenever Gaz was on deployment, he would always visit to relax in the butterfly sanctuary. He loved watching as you tended to the flowers and gently fed the butterflies sugar water. Even when he was on a mission, he would be sure to ask about some of his favorite butterflies, even going so far as to name them. "How's my girl, Cressia, doing?" he asked over FaceTime as you walked to find the Great spangled fritillary amongst the zinnias. "Here she is!" you exclaimed and pointed the camera at Cressia, a gorgeous butterfly with golden yellow wings. You could hear someone snicker in the background but Kyle didn't care as he continued to take screenshot after screenshot.

For your first anniversary, Kyle was unfortunately deployed and couldn't celebrate with you. This didn't stop him from showering you with gifts. As you sat in the conservatory, you could hear the doorbell ring. You emerged to find the postman holding two boxes for you, one smaller than the other. You took them inside as you delicately opened up the larger package. Inside, was a note describing the care for 23 painted butterflies along with rows of small cocoons. You smiled as you read the instructions and went to place the new members into their homes. After you got them settled, you opened the small box to reveal a necklace with a small butterfly charm carved from a pearl. A note inside read, "Happy anniversary, now you can carry a butterfly with you anywhere you go."

Ghost - bookbinding

When you first invited Simon over he was quick to notice your many bookshelves all lined with books of the same aesthetic. He knew some of these were Penguin clothbound Classics but was certain they hadn't bound The Hunger Games in their unique cover. As he held The Harry Potter novels and My Year of Rest and Relaxation in his hands, he silently contemplated if he had missed a few years and these were published classics. You came into the library with two glasses and laughed at his bewildered gaze. "You discovered my little hobby, Simon," you joked and offered him a glass. As he sipped on The Paper Plane cocktail, you recounted how you would spend your free time rebinding books that didn't match your aesthetic. "It took me a while but having a matching library like this one is worth it," you said and waved your arm to the rows of books, all with a unifying factor.

As you entered into a long-term relationship, it was clear Simon loved your hobby and indulged in it. Every time he visited, he insisted on bringing you the few books he owned to create Penguin Classic-like covers. From military manuals to a vintage copy of The Art of War, you quickly rebound them and presented him with his new book. He even told you that some of his colleagues had complimented your handiwork. You always blushed in response, citing your eye for design as the cause of all the madness.

Eventually, Simon gifted you with the paperback Penguin Classics. You opened the door to see him carrying a pile of books in his arms. You quickly ushered him to the library where he set them all down on your vintage leather couch. "For the person, that has everything," he said and you went to examine all of the books. He had seemingly bought out the whole collection as you marveled at each of the covers. "Each one of them has an art piece on it," he said and you began to notice the trend. You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek as you held Wuthering Heights in your hand. He quickly snatched it out of your hands before you could even start to rip off the cover. "Keep these, I know you have a theme going on but it doesn't hurt to have some variety," he said and gave you back the book as you stared up at him.

Now whenever someone comes to visit you, they always notice the black-bound books on display. Although they do stick out, you love recounting the story of how your significant other bought you some of the most prized objects in your collection.

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[fadingdaggerr]

hey! I just wanted to see if I could request a Melissa x Reader fic where basically r is a teacher at the school and her best friend is ava, and r has the fattest crush on melissa ever but the only ones who know are ava, barbra, and mr johnson (bc dude knows everything)

and ava and barbra are trying to be wingman because melissa likes r. so just a bunch of mutual pining and fluff. and when they confess it’s snowing.

if you can’t do that that’s totally fine! but if you do thanks in advance and take your time

as you ever were

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above | 8k

includes: mutual pining, ava and barb meddling, kinda dialogue heavy oops, these bitches Oblivious, author is a classics nerd

warnings: (minimal) they/them pronoun use for R, sexual innuendos, (brief) alcohol consumption, kissing/light making out

note: sorry i took so long getting to this req. school started up and work is genuinely insane. plus i got a little too into writing this so editing too a little while. i actually really like how this turned out :)

Unforecasted frozen rain forced recess to be inside, everyone was to just stick to their classroom since there was no time to prepare the gymnasium for indoor recess on such short notice. The kids spent the first five minutes of recess begging you to go outside, to which you open the window, to which Sean says oh, hell no, resulting in a scolding from you.

Within five more minutes, your teacher-senses begin to tingle. Something is wrong. Looking up from your record book, you glance around the classroom until your eyes land on Karam. The seven year old had just moved to Philly with his parents a few weeks ago, and with this being his first week at a new school, he has been understandably frazzled. The boy is facing towards your desk, away from his classmates, sitting on a beanbag chair and crying to himself.

Immediately, you rise out of your chair and approach him gently, lowering yourself to sit criss-cross in front of him. “Hey, Karam. What’s going on?” you ask calmly, not trying to draw attention to his state nor baby him. The only response you get is a shake of the head, so you ask, “would you like some alone time right here?” Another shake of the head, another question, “do you want to talk alone, just you and me? You can bring Pickle.”

This offer seems to appease him, he instantly stands and goes to his backpack to grab his beloved stuffed sea lion. You get to the doorway and keep your hand on his shoulder where he stands just out of sight of the other kids, hoping no one will see him and decide to get nosy.

“Okay, chickens. I’m going to run across the hall very quickly, keep doing what you’re doing. Ashante, honey, you’re in charge,” you say with a little grin, it becomes a full smile when the girl salutes you.

Once you’re in the hall, Karam grabs your hand tightly with big tears ready to fall, and stays close as you cross diagonally to some of your students' previous second grade classroom. You lean into the doorway, still keeping Karam out of sight of others, and knock to gain a certain redhead’s attention. She’s quick to get to you, seeing a sort of urgency on your face.

“What’s up?”

“Can you watch my class, please? I’ve got a situation here,” you tip your head to the side to gesture to Karam, still gripping your hand and sniffling. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow, lunch, lunch duty, recess duty, whatever. Just, please?”

Melissa takes one look at you pleading eyes and knows she can’t say no to you, especially not with a sad little friend by your side. “You owe me nothing. I’ll bring the kids to my room and you can come get ‘em after,” she says with a tone she hopes shows she’s being genuine.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you rush out, immediately your attention falling back to the tears rolling down Karam’s cheeks. Melissa scoots over to your room, corralling the kids across the hall with an excited tone to keep their eyes on her and not you and their classmate.

With the extra bodies in the room, Melissa finds that the doorway was a good place to observe all the kids in her room. Though she tries to keep her eagle eyes on the students, they slowly slide to your form in the hall, crouched down below the boy’s eye level with his hand in yours. Her ears feel like a radio, tuning into the hushed volume you keep.

“It’s okay to be sad, buddy. Everything and everyone is so new, you’re allowed to be scared,” you say as you wipe his cheeks with a tissue, “and you and I both know that baba and daddy would never bring you somewhere that wasn’t safe. And Pickle, he’s here for you, and so am I.”

The boy leans into you for a hug, and your arms wrap tightly around him. Melissa tries not to stare, but she’s unable to take her eyes off the interaction. The way you rock him gently side to side, it was clear you weren’t letting go until he did. She vaguely remembers you mentioning that being a rule of yours when you first started at Abbott, when you took over her third grade class and her entire field of vision. 

Melissa averts her eyes back to the kids as the hug ends, but she still listens discreetly. You wipe Karam’s face as you speak, “let’s go get you some water, okay? And maybe, if you use those puppy eyes, nurse Makiah will let you pick out a lollipop. Does that sound like a deal?”

“Do we have to come back to recess?” The shyness in his voice makes you pout.

“Yes, because Miss Schemmenti was super nice to watch all our friends for me while we’re talking, and I’m sure she’d like her room back,” you peek up to Melissa quickly, “and when we get back, we’re gonna say a big ‘thank you,’ alright?”

“Yeah,” Karam answers quietly, but his next words are so quiet you barely hear them, “thank you.”

“Of course, chicken. Let’s go.” Melissa pretends she’s not watching you walk down the hall with a hand still in Karam’s, her eyes switch back to her class when you disappear around the corner.

When you return to get the kids from Melissa, she instead insists that you just sit out the rest of recess in her room since the students were already playing together. That’s the only reason, nothing else. You keep a cautious eye on Karam as he sits down to draw with one of Melissa’s students, and once you see him start to arrange his colors, you drift your attention to the woman next to you.

“Thank you, seriously. And I will be paying you back for this,” you say, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“I said you ain’t gotta do anyth-”

You cut her off, “I said. I’m. Paying. You. Back. Just accept it, I’m not budging.”

All she gives as an answer is a huff through her nose, but the smile that stretches her lips makes you feel fluttery. Her smile is not a rare sight, but it’s rare that you get to see it this close. When she faces away for only a couple seconds, you take the time to just take her in. Beautiful.

In the hall, a conversation between Barbara and Ava about clearing an extra bulletin board for the kindergarteners art projects was halted when they caught Melissa watching you with Karam. Both women looked at her, unseen even by Melissa’s typically sensitive attention, and all they saw was a soft putty of a woman. When you returned to the classroom, they slowly got closer to see what was going on, curiosity drawing them in.

All they could see were gentle, shy smiles and hidden glances of adoration for each other. It clicked in their minds at the same moment. Their best friends had it bad for each other.

Their plan was formed in a single glance.

—☽—

“So… What are you gonna do about Red?” Ava asks as she reaches the midpoint of her braid.

You’re sitting behind her on a cushion, parting a section in the back of her head to start on a braid yourself. Your focus makes your response time slower and quieter than usual, “what d’ya mean?”

Ava’s chuckles, “how you’ve got the hots for Schemmenti.”

Her obvious tone makes you stall, too long, but you try to deflect anyway, “I’ve got no clue what you mean.”

She laughs. Ava laughs and it would be in your face if she weren’t so busy with her hair. She doesn’t need to turn to know you’ve got that shocked expression on your face, the one where your eyes are wide and blank, face otherwise neutral, but she knows the expression well. The first time she’d seen it was the day she met you in seventh grade, and she proclaimed you her best friend to everyone in the cafeteria, just a mere three hours after meeting each other.

“Don’t lie to me, Gremlin,” she jokes, using her nickname for you she adopted from your favorite movie as a kid, “I know when you like someone, and you want that Italian sub to Italian dom you.”

“I hate you,” you groan, “if you mention even a single thing to her Ava, I will buy out all the caramel hair from the beauty supply and you’ll never see it again.” She gasps, as if it were a real threat you could carry out on your budget, but she knows how serious you are. With a roll of her eyes, Ava decides to hold off until you’re not braiding her hair to annoy you more.

Much later into the night and all there is really left to do is trim, seal, and add products to her roots, Ava knows she can’t let the topic of the previous conversation go. She decides to speak up while she trims the last few front pieces and you pick up the hair packaging and combs from around the room.

“Just saying though, if you stopped making ‘I wanna have your babies’ eyes, you could ask her out,” Ava tries to explain. She almost adds a what’s the worst that could happen? but she knows exactly where your mind will go.

“I don’t wanna ‘have her babies,’ you freak,” you sigh as you get some hot water, “I just… I dunno. I don’t want to ruin the friendship I have with her when she inevitably rejects me.”

She’s obsessed with you, she won’t reject you, Ava wants to say. Even if others, and even herself, would label her selfish, the one thing she doesn’t ever let slide is you letting your insecurity get the best of you. She likes her extra job as your personal hype-woman when you get in your head. Ava weighs her option, “well… you could put out some feelers. Invite her somewhere or, I don’t know, look her in the eye when you talk to her.”

“You’re right,” you say with a gruffness that she knows is defeat. If she can just get you and Melissa talking, interacting more, then maybe she and Barb can figure out a way to worm you two together.

“You do like her, don’t you?” She knows the answer, she wants you to say it though.

There’s a deep inhale before you answer, “of course I do. She- she’s so- I do like her, so much. Like, I want to bite a chunk out of the table when she looks at me.”

“Yeah, don’t do that, we don’t know where they’ve been,” Ava says with a touch of disgust, “and she’ll think you’re more of a freak than you already are.” She rightfully earns a smack on the shoulder at that one.

Dipping the ends of her hair into the hot water, you think silently. Ava has a point, if you spent even a tenth of the time you spend thinking about Melissa, when she was right in front of you, talking to her instead, you’d probably not be so nervous at the thought of making eye contact with her. Sometimes it was nice though, just getting to look at her, seeing her easy smile when she speaks to Barbara and the playful glint in her eye when she lovingly picks on Jacob. Whenever her attention falls on you, you shy away. Maybe Ava has a point.

At Barbara and Melissa’s weekly brunch that same Saturday morning, their conversation falls down a similar path.

Ever the professional deterrer, Melissa manages to push the conversation away from the topic of you, trying to keep Barb on Gerald or bible club. Usually her friend catches the hint to stay away from the topic, but there’s no way she was getting out of this one.

“So… are we gonna keep beating around the bush or are we going to talk about it?”

Melissa just sips her mimosa, suddenly interested in the painting across the room.

“Melissa.”

What… interesting brush strokes.

“Melissa Ann, so help me.”

She turns back, “yes, Barb?”

“Don’t ‘yes, Barb’ me. Spill,” there is no room for argument.

“There’s nothing to spill, Barb,” Melissa says, and she means it. It’s clear Barbara had picked up on her feelings for you, but nothing had been done to go past acknowledging she cared for you.

Barb tilts her head to the side, “oh, really? So, we’re just going to pretend that you’re not utterly infatuated with everyone’s new favorite third grade teacher?” Melissa stares at Barbara with wide eyes, thrown off by the blunt nature of her inquiry. Her friend only shakes her head, “for the good Lord’s sake, Melissa. Anyone with eyes can see you’ve got feelings for them, and I know you know that too.”

Green eyes shift away from brown, and they instead stare at the drink in front of her, nervous hands coming up to play with the umbrella to keep them busy instead of shaking in her lap. What Barb said wasn’t untrue, she knows it. Barbara Howard is always right in the end. But that isn’t where the apprehension in her gut stems from.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Melissa mumbles, insecurity from her mind reaching her throat.

Barbara can sense it and tries a softer approach, “I think I can say on good authority that the feelings are probably mutual. You could give it a shot, they’d be lucky to have you.”

“And what’s that good authority?”

“My eyes,” Barbara deadpans, her face reading are you serious?

The conversation stops there, more of a self preservation move for the kindergarten teacher. Underneath the silence from Melissa, it’s obvious her mind is going in circles trying to weigh her options. Did she have feelings for you? Yes. But would she do anything if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d return her feelings? No. She was almost certain you didn’t, you rarely ever looked her in the eye and you got all quiet and mumbly when she spoke.

Conclusion: Barb’s nuts.

—☽—

When Monday comes back around, you feel like the air in the lounge, or at least around your table, is different. Barbara’s eyes keep shifting between you and Melissa in what she thinks are subtle glances, but the constant eyes on you start making you nervous. Shifting uncomfortably for a moment, you rise from your chair to go to the coffee pot to get away from the prying. While your back is to them, a different form of attention falls on you. Olive eyes scan over you with a soft glint, taking the opportunity to admire you when you’re not looking. Her attention feels different from Barb’s, you can feel it without seeing it. It’s warm, all consuming.

When you turn back around, you can see a section of Melissa’s hair swinging slightly from motion. She was looking at you, and she was hiding it horribly. Instead of mentioning it, you just sit and check your school email. In the weekly scheduling, you see that the recess duty that you typically had with Mrs. Benning from sixth grade, was now with Melissa for the entire week.

Your eyebrows jump slightly at the find, before you have to fight an eye roll at Ava’s obvious meddling. Seeing this, Melissa speaks up, “something interesting?”

“No, no,” you barely get out at a normal cadence, “just switches in the schedule, wasn’t expecting it.”

She nods slowly, “are you… not okay with that?” You try not to pout at the insecurity that bleeds just the smallest amount in her question.

“Of course I’m okay with it, no reason not to be,” you hope your genuineness was showing, “just different is all.” A muted smirk crosses her lips before she takes a sip of her coffee to cover her face, you pretend not to notice the move, as well as the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You turn your attention to your phone in your lap.

To AVA ♔ : you’re not slick

From AVA ♔ : good thing i wasn’t trying to be

From AVA ♔ : get up in that cannoli

To AVA ♔ : speaking privileges revoked until further notice

You try to not think about the prospect of an extra half hour with Melissa today, and for the rest of the week, but the thought of her crosses your mind and brings a smile to your face. When you are walking your kids back from music, you selfishly take the extra second you’re in the hall to glance towards Melissa’s classroom. Cursive letters on the board in her loopy handwriting being narrated by her expressive face and fast-moving hands. Another grin crosses your lips before you spin on your heel back to your room.

As lunch rolls around, there’s a giddy feeling in your chest that grows with every passing second. Was she even going to talk to you? Maybe not, but time with Melissa is time with Melissa. Just when you’re sliding your gloves on, there’s a tap at your door. Red hair tucked under an Eagles hat and thick black jacket, she’s never been more beautiful.

Winter at Abbott meant beautifully crafted snowmen that had just a touch of dirt on it, but the kids just decided it was freckles. Most of them were working together on their snowmen, while others were trying to see how long they could hang upside down on the monkey bars in their snow clothes. Melissa, after five minutes of churning the idea over in her mind, moves closer to you, the nylon of your jackets making a fssh sound as they brush together gently. The red on her cheeks was likely from the cold, but the darker shade that blossoms at you smiling and turning to her, that’s all you.

The silence between you is easy, for once it doesn’t make Melissa skeptical. It’s comforting, no nervous rambling or awkward attempts to fill the silence, just peaceful silence as your shoulder moves closer to hers.

Tuesday is just the same, with Melissa coming to your classroom to pick you up for recess duty. Wednesday you meet her in your doorway. The peaceful silence is broken when you check your phone to see copious texts in the teacher group chat, most of which are Janine and Jacob and only two are Gregory. All you let out is a little hum.

“What’s going on?” Melissa asks from beside you, her eyes staying on Marcus attempting to climb on top of the monkey bars.

“Groupchat’s going crazy. Janine and Jacob want a ‘teacher’s night out plus Ava,’ and they’re asking if everyone’s good to go next Friday at seven,” your tone suggests a bit of disinterest, but if Melissa goes, you could be easily persuaded.

Her brows scrunch for only a half second before asking, “what bar?”

“The Penman’s Alcove? Guess Jacob suggested it,” you say after scrolling through the nearly forty messages.

“Sounds like Jacob suggested it,” she says with a sputtered laugh. To her delight, you chuckle from beside her, and she brings her full attention to you, “you going?”

You bite your inner lip and flick your eyes to the side, “maybe. Are you?”

“Maybe.”

—☽—

Ava, who always demands you pick her up when you go out, insists on driving to the bar. When she gets to your apartment and does a once over of your jeans and loose-fitting sweater, she gives you a face of disapproval.

“That is not club attire. What ladies are you going to pick up if you’re dressed like a grandma?”

You roll your eyes as you move to let her in, “it’s not a club, it’s a bar. That Jacob picked out. And I’m not trying to ‘pick up’ ladies?”

“Aw, you’re already committed to Schemmenti. Cute,” her laugh at her own comment is cut off by the pillow you whip at her head, another ready if she pipes up again, “no need to get violent, I’ll stop.”

Her only reply is a huff as you grab your boots and shove in your fluffy-socked feet. Ava rises off the couch, leaving the pillow-turned-missile behind. When she’d asked you earlier in the day if ‘your woman’ was coming to the bar, you’d only shrugged, but with a quick text to Barbara, Ava knew the redhead would be there.

Barbara and Ava had made a pact, that despite their differing reasons for not wanting to go, would only attend the outing to insure that you and Melissa would both go as well. It had taken some convincing on Melissa’s end, but the moment her best friend said your name, her tune changed. She agreed to go as long as she drove herself there, so that when she wanted to inevitably leave early, she could.

As Ava pulls into the parking lot of the bar, neither of you hold back the rolling of your eyes. It was very Jacob. You share a look with your best friend, silently asking what did we agree to?

The Penman’s Alcove is tiny, shoved into one of the smallest brick buildings either of you had ever seen. One window was completely blocked off by a decorative book display, the other gave view to the wooden bar top and wooden support beam that was turned into a cylindrical bookcase with lights weaving around it. What is lacking in space, it clearly made up for in atmosphere.

“You both came!” Jacob’s voice echoes from the door to where you and Ava stand as you evaluate the building. You immediately elbow Ava to stop the joke that you could feel on the tip of her tongue. 

“Said I would, didn’t I?” you asked as you got closer, appreciating how Jacob switched his arms from the instinctive hug he wanted to give to giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Anyone else here yet?”

“Well, Janine, Gregory, me, duh, Barbara, and Melissa just got here, so,” his voice becomes a little sheepish, “you’re the last ones here.”

“Fashionably late,” you and Ava say at the same time, though your tone is more flat since you only said it because you knew she would.

Walking into the bar, the small space didn’t feel bigger, just smaller as you realized just how many shelves of countless books there were. The twenty person capacity limit was starting to make sense as you quickly side stepped around other people to keep up with Jacob. Everyone comes into view, but as green eyes meet yours, cameo light surrounds her and she’s all you can see. The stutter in your step is noticed by no one but Ava, who subtly grabs your arm to pull you closer to everyone, closer to Melissa.

Greetings and small talk fill the space, but all of it is background noise. When Janine finally releases you from her energetic retelling of the four hours it’s been since she last saw you, your attention is finally able to rest on the woman who it had been dying to be on. Melissa sees your eyes flick around until they find her, and she curses how her heart flutters at the way you move towards her in an instant.

Leaning your arms on the bartop, you lean over slightly to order a rum and coke before turning entirely towards the redhead. Even though it had been barely four hours since you’d seen her, you felt yourself missing her. Her eyes, her hair, her laugh, especially the one she barks out when she can’t control herself and laughs suddenly. Something in the navy shirt she wore instead of her bright greens and pinks told you she wanted to fit into the environment, like she didn’t want anyone to see her in such a… Jacob place. Her attempt to keep attention away, yet for you it was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Just like every other time you saw her, your eyes quickly dipped to her neck, a tiny smile passing your lips at her Saint Dominic pendant she had received from her Nana before she’d passed. When you met her eyes, the small smile on your lips grew, and hers did to match.

“Thought you’d never show up,” Melissa says playfully, but with a quiet tone, her words only for you.

“Surprised you even showed,” you mimicked her tone.

Melissa weighs her options before replying, “Barbara told me I should, told me I can count it as my good act of the year.” She relishes in your silent laugh, little puffed breaths leaving you as you turn your face away from her just for a moment to hide. Melissa had realized three days into knowing you that this was her favorite thing, this quiet laugh of yours, she knew that when you turned away, it meant it was genuine.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” you say with earnest, “if that's any consolation.”

A smile plays on glossy, pink lips, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Two drinks later, and you found yourself meandering through the shelves of books, naturally being drawn to the fantasy section that was oddly close to the classics you also enjoyed. The small bar had reached capacity only a half hour after you’d arrived, and the bustling conversation was starting to pierce your eardrums. The cushions on the floor had become your new seat, in this almost-quiet corner.

The light vibrations of footsteps approaching brings your mind out of the dragon story you were falling into. Your eyes look up to see red hair contrasting against the shadows from the shelves. Melissa lowers herself carefully onto the cushion beside you, taking utmost care in not getting too far into your space. Her finger pokes the book in your hands, pushing it closer to you to read the cover, only a low hum leaving her throat.

She bumps her knee with yours, a silent you alright? She’s seen you get overwhelmed at assemblies and work parties before, often keeping an eye on you as you stuck to a corner, too polite to leave the room. You bump her knee back, a little smile on your lips, a quiet I’m okay. Melissa plays with the creases in her jeans as she tries to think of what to say, but you beat her to it.

“You know what’s fucked? You can’t even check out the books here,” you state with exasperation. “What’s the point of having all these books if you can only read them if you come here?”

Melissa warms with affection at your word, “No one would bring them back, hon.”

“I would,” you mumble with an incredulous tone in your voice, “but no, not even a checkout fee or, I don’t know, collateral.”

“Collateral!” Melissa laughs out. “Gonna hand over your watch to hold onto until you bring the book back?”

“I’d give them my car for those early editions of Mary Shelley’s work,” you half-joke as you nod towards the faded green and blue books. You look at Melissa for a moment, reading her face quickly before leaning into her space, “don’t even suggest stealing them.”

“Would they even notice?”

“These IPA-enjoyers? Definitely, unfortunately.”

Melissa never cared much for the classics, especially not the ones assigned to her in school. She preferred the historical fiction and true crime novels her grandfather introduced her to, but there was something intriguing about the ones you were showing her. There is peace in the way your fingers trace over the pages, a sort of reverence in how you hold each book. Sylvia Plath and Emily Brontë, Greek tragedies and comedies, they never sounded this interesting as they did when they came from your lips.

The world outside of this hidden corner continues to disappear around the two of you, the prying eyes peeking around the corner are completely lost on the two of you. Your eyes on the books, Melissa’s eyes on you. Ava and Barbara’s eyes, on the other hand, were flicking between the two of you before finding each other's eyes. A shared nod began the next step in their plan.

Ava, in a highly out of character fashion, quietly left the bar without saying anything to anyone, and drove off towards Iggy’s apartment. Barbara, pretending not to notice, went back to her conversation with Gregory regarding what he plans on growing in the garden for springtime. It’s Janine who notices Ava’s lacking presence, she peeks out into the parking lot, and sure enough, the silver car you’d arrived in was gone.

In a child-like fashion, Janine tugs on Barbara’s sleeve to gain her attention, “Ava’s gone.”

“What?” Barbara responds with faux surprise.

“Ava, she left. Like, gone. Not here,” without having to ask Barbara to be the one to tell you, Janine was definitely hinting at not being the one to say your best friend ditched you here.

The kindergarten teacher follows the maze of shelves, steps quickening as she gets closer to hushed voices in the furthest corner. In your own little, say you and Melissa, her legs stretched out as she leaned back against her hands while you sat close to her in criss-cross. There are two piles of older books in front of you, ones you had already shown her and the ones you were going to, and Melissa seemed completely unbothered by the infodumping you laid upon her.

Barbara politely clears her throat to make you aware of her presence, watching you nearly jumping away from Melissa as you realize the closeness between you. Pretending not to notice she speaks carefully, “dear, I just wanted to tell you that Ava left a couple of minutes ago.”

The nerves you felt dissipate, annoyance and a small anger taking its place, “what do you mean? She fully just left? Did she even say anything?”

“No, she must’ve snuck out. Janine noticed before the rest of us that she’d taken off,” Barbara is impressed by her own ability to fib so easily.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, keeping yourself from exploding. You rise from your spot next to the redhead, who is quick to follow in your stride, and grab your phone to call you friend. Speedily stepping through the shelves, you step outside as you press Ava’s contact.

She picks up on the second ring, which only pisses you off further, “what’s up, boo?”

“Where the fuck are you? You did not just seriously ditch me,” you waste no time.

“That little library was not the vibe. Plus, you were too busy nerding it up with Red,” she jokes, almost mockingly.

“You were my ride, Ava,” you sigh, “this isn’t cool, especially when I’m going to have to ask Janine to drive me home since she carpooled with Jacob and Gregory.”

“I know who you can ask for a ride,” the laugh she speaks through only hammers home your aggravation, “maybe she’ll give you more than one.”

A hard groan escapes your throat, “you owe me big time, asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thank me later,” she hangs up on you before you can respond, the beeping tone of the disconnection feels more mocking than your friend straight up laughing in your ear.

When you step back inside, your brows are furrowed, deep creases on your forehead as you practically steam with anger. Never before would Janine, Gregory, or Jacob say they were intimidated by you, but right now, they can’t deny that you are almost as frightening as Melissa’s angry walk. Barbara looks at Melissa pointedly, motioning with her head towards you to tell her to talk to you.

The redhead is already in motion, immediately in front of you, “what did she say?”

Sarcasm and irritation drop from your voice, “the ‘library’ wasn’t ‘her vibe,’ so she’s apparently ditching me to ride home with Gregory and the Chipmunks.”

She doesn’t want to laugh at your predicament, but she can’t help it. Her hand rises to rub your arm reassuringly, “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t ha-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Let me get you home,” the gentleness in her voice makes the icy anger in you melt into a puddle, the hand on your arm was grounding.

“Okay,” your voice just above a whisper in the space between you.

“Okay,” her tone matching yours as she smiles.

Melissa’s car is warm, her presence beside you warmer. With only a couple blocks left before you reach your apartment, you find yourself wishing you knew how to slow, or even stop, time. Would inviting her upstairs seem forward? Is asking her if she wants coffee better? No, stupid, who wants coffee at ten at night? All you need is to be around her.

When her car parks in the lot of your building, neither of you move, not you to get out or her to tell you to. You turn your face towards her, resting your chin on your shoulder, peering through your lashes at her. She matches your position, looking back at you with a little grin.

“Thank you for listening to me,” your voice is quiet and insecure.

Melissa leans a little closer, “thank you for letting me.”

“I’ll see you Monday?” You don’t want to leave, but despite it being Friday, it has also been a school day. You’re tired, and you can see in her slightly droopy eyes that she is too.

“Bright and early,” she answers, eyes flicking to your lips shortly in a way you wish you hadn’t seen. She makes it impossible to want to leave.

Melissa stays in her parking spot until you disappear into the building, not before you glance once more at her and wave shyly. Her head rests against the steering wheel as she struggles to compose herself, before pulling out on the street.

You both fall asleep that night to dreams about the secret corner you’d found yourselves in, books stacked around while your eyes stayed on each other.

—☽—

There’s a certain pep in your step come Monday morning, but a small amount of dread knowing you’ll have to face Ava later. She knew better to keep her distance over the weekend, but though your annoyance with her was fading, it was definitely there. You push into the lounge, immediately gravitating towards the coffeemaker.

You enjoy the hum of the TV, Jim Gardener’s voice coming from the speakers as you focus on Melissa in your periphery. Clicking steps in the hallway stiffen your back, all eyes in the room shifting to you as your best friend, boss, and ditcher enters. The cocky smile on her face falls when you stand and leave the room without a word.

“Seriously? Still mad?” Ava asks with such a genuine tone that Gregory’s head drops into his hands.

Melissa speaks before Ava can even blink, feeling like she had to defend you after seeing how upset you’d been, “so selfish you couldn’t even give a heads up? Some best friend you are, ditching them.” Ava only responds by raising her hands in defeat, giving up on an argument with Melissa before it starts.

“You checking on that one or should I?” Mr. Johnson asks from the doorway where he’s collecting the trash, his eyes set on Melissa. His answer is just the second grade teacher pointing at herself in question, surprised that he would’ve thought of her to check on you. His face screws up, “duh? Who else?”

She listens. When Melissa reaches your classroom, quickly carried by fast and angry steps, she sees you at your whiteboard, writing the agenda and date on it. The unusually harsh strokes of your writing show her exactly what mood she’s walking into. She almost jumps when she knocks on the door and your head whips her way, hard face softening.

“Hey,” you breathe out, going back to writing the afternoon’s schedule.

“Hey. I just wanted to check on you,” she she says as she slides the orange marker down towards you.

“I’m fine, really. I’m mostly just pissed Ava left me like that and thinks it’s hilarious. You’d think I would be used to it by now, but apparently not,” you huff, “just like her mom always says, Ava’s gonna Ava.”

“How long you giving her the silent treatment?”

“Till she actually apologizes and doesn’t just assume it’s all good, it’s the only way. I’m not even that mad about it, if she wanted to leave she could’ve just said,” you shift your weight from foot to foot, “it’s the principle of it.”

Melissa glances over your face, grateful you don’t seem to notice, and she realizes it's less anger, more disappointment. It’s so starkly different from the smile that played on your lips and the gleam in your eyes just the other night. She so badly wants that back, she craves your smile.

It took three days for Ava to finally apologize, and she only does when she comes over to your apartment, no interest in letting the other hear her grovel. She hadn’t meant to make you upset, she was just trying to get you and Melissa alone, and so far, her efforts seemed to be working. She was diligent to not let out that it was a joint plan between her and Barbara, and that Melissa was getting played just as much as you.

—☽—

A snow storm Thursday night almost takes out your power, and the chill seeps through the brick walls, forcing you to bed early in a bundle of blankets. You wake up to your phone ringing at five in the morning, only a half hour before your alarm was to go off. Seeing Ava’s contact worried you immediately.

“What?” you say through a yawn, “are you okay?”

“Aw, you love me,” she jokes through her own large yawn.

“I do. Now, what do you want?”

“It’s a snow day, bitch. The roads aren’t too bad, but apparently the buses are fucked.”

You sigh with contentment, “snow day means I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay, lazy. I’ll see you tomorrow for wine night?”

You can barely answer through another yawn, “yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

It’s not until ten that you wake up again, sunlight reflecting off the fresh snow and making your room too bright to stay asleep any longer. The air in the room is too cold for your taste, leaving you to wrap your throw blanket around yourself as you trudge out to your kitchen for the promise of warm coffee. As coffee drips into the pot, the star-printed throw is replaced by your favorite grey sweatshirt, the faded university logo still maintaining a touch of the maroon and silver it once was.

The second cup of coffee tastes of cinnamon and cream, the warmth keeping your hands from stiffening under the cold of your building. No matter how much you turned up the heat, the draft made it obsolete. As you pour a third cup, clinging to the warmth it gave, you feel your phone buzz in your Abbott sweatpants.

From Melissa: How busy are you today?

To Melissa: on a snow day? not at all. why? 

From Melissa: I’ve got a surprise for you.

To Melissa: should i be worried?

From Melissa: Do you trust me?

To Melissa: you know i do

When she doesn’t answer, anticipation starts to take hold. It hits you as you nervously sip your coffee, you’re still in your pajamas and Melissa is coming. You tumble down to your room, switching the sweatpants for an old pair of jeans, the faded sweatshirt for a thick black sweater, fluffy socks into slippers. Part of you grapples if you should make coffee for the both of you, the other part tells you a fourth cup may give you a heart attack upon seeing Melissa, your heart would never be able to take it.

A quiet ping from your phone alerts you that Melissa is down in the lot as she waits for you. You don’t even take a moment to answer, just quickly throwing on your denim jacket before hurrying down the steps to the bottom floor. Peeking your head out, you see the only car with lights on, the familiar black car making you smile. The snow had slowed overnight, wisps still quickly sticking to your hair and clothes.

Melissa doesn’t notice your approach, not until you tap on her frosted window with your knuckles, making her jump. She was lost in her mind, thinking about how bad of an idea it was, startling quickly at your tap, but quickly soothed by your smile and little wave. Melissa steps out of the car, leaning against it to keep you from peeking in her window and seeing the passenger seat.

“You really shouldn’t’ve driven, what if the roads were nasty?” you say with concern, despite the fact that you couldn’t be happier with her presence.

“They weren’t, I got here just fine,” she says, placating the worry.

You can’t even hide the smile that shows itself, “what sort of surprise was worth the black ice?”

“There was no black ice,” she laughs, shifting under your gaze, “but I hope it’s a surprise you’ll like.” There’s an unusual nervousness in her, one that you can’t help but feel and want to soothe.

“If it’s from you, I definitely will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Try me,” you cock your head to the side, a sly smirk on your face. Melissa ducks her face, concealing her blush. She opens the door, leaning in to grab the bag from the seat. A deep breath leaves her lungs as she composes herself before facing you. The paper bag is stretched out towards you, green eyes begging you to relieve her of this weight.

You try to be careful, not wanting the gentle snow to touch the contents. Peering up at Melissa, she urges you to open it. You reach in and feel something, a cloth covered board you think, until you feel what you think are pages. A book? No, three.

You pull back your hand, the books coming with it. A faded green cover with black serif text reads Frankenstein, the blue reads The Short-Stories of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley: A Complete Collection, and the final red one, Mathilda. The books you had fawned over a week ago were now in your hands, the very same you said you’d give your car for. No words form, only thick tears in your eyes that you pray don’t fall. They were the exact same books, the copies from the bar, and now they’re in your hands.

You can only look at the redhead, absolutely bewildered. She gives you a weak smile, having a hard time gauging your reaction and you slide the books back into the bag to protect them. There’s no warning, not verbal or even a glint in your eye, before you fling yourself onto her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Thank you, oh my fucking God, thank you, thank you, what the fuck?” your words fall out of your mouth, barely able to contain the delight running through your veins.

Melissa doesn’t answer right away, only wrapping her arms around you and basking in the feeling of you there. You smell like coffee and cinnamon, she wishes she could find out if your lips taste the same. Neither of you move, not wanting to be the one who breaks away first.

After a minute, your face lifts from her neck, but you don’t remove yourself from her arms. She meets your gaze, watching you watch her. Melissa is the most beautiful person you’ll ever meet, you’re sure of it. But right here, right now? She’d never been more so, nothing else compared to the snow stuck to her lashes, the pink of her cheeks from the chilled air, the lack of makeup across her skin allowing you to see all her freckles and the lines around her eyes.

“You got me the books,” it's a simple sentence, but there’s a weight to it that Melissa almost can’t handle.

She smiles so softly it makes you want to cry, “you love them, you wanted them.” The look in your eyes changes, and Melissa seems to notice. She finally speaks up, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is, at least I hope not,” you answer truthfully.

“Why that look on your face then?” Her lips look so soft, you have to tell her.

You swallow your pride, pursing your lips before telling her the thought that had been on your mind since you met her, “I really want to kiss you.”

It appears she feels the same, Melissa immediately leans into you, lips pressing to yours. You knew they’d be soft, and God were they. Her hands plant themselves on your hips while yours cup her neck, pulling her as close as you possibly can. Spinning suddenly, you find yourself pressed against her car, cold metal freezing you through your layers, but warm lips make the cold feel little. For someone so abrasive, Melissa was so soft, holding you like you were the most precious thing to her. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip, asking for entry. And who are you to deny her?

Her tongue traces yours, a groan comes from deep in your chest that only spurs her on further. She presses impossibly closer to you, hands sliding up to hold you at your ribs, pressing into your jacket in an attempt to get closer. Your blunt nails dig into her neck, not enough to hurt, just to feel more of her. All you’ve wanted since you met her was to be this close, and it felt like an unreachable dream until now.

Her lips pull away, only to be chased by yours. You press gentle, chaste kisses to her lips, and it only becomes more difficult as matching dopey grins grow on your faces. Her hand rises to your cheek, caressing the chilled skin that warms under her touch.

She barely hears your words over her rapidly beating heart, “you’re so pretty.”

“Haven’t seen yourself then, huh?” she jokes, pretending your statement didn’t make her feel like a giggly teenager.

“Funny, but I mean it. You’re so pretty,” your hand shifts around her cup her jaw, “I can’t believe you got those books for me. How?”

She smirks to herself, “I just asked nicely.”

“Nicely? Did you bat your lashes and give them that award-winning smile?” The sarcasm that should have been there sounds more like adoration, the lazy smile on your lips making them look even more kissable than they’d been before.

“Exactly, they just handed them right over,” she feels like a pile of mush with you looking at her like this.

The hand on her jaw pulls her in closer, “they’d be stupid not to.” There’s no chance to reply, just your lips pressing to hers again. It feels as easy as breathing with you, like she was supposed to be doing this the whole time. When you pull away, it’s just barely, a silent request in the way you stroke her cheek.

Reluctantly, she pulls away from you to take her keys out of the ignition and grabs her purse from the floor of the car. An arm wraps around hers as you lead her towards the door to your building, the other tightly holds the books against your chest. It was too soon to say it, but you knew that right here, right now, you were utterly in love with Melissa Schemmenti. The woman who probably threatened the employees at the Penman’s Alcove for the books when they said she couldn’t buy them, the one who listened for two hours as you spoke about authors and books she’d never cared about before.

She cared now. She cared because you did.

Melissa knew the moment you saw the books, that she would do whatever it takes to see that wonder on your face again. She thinks to herself that endeavor would be a good way to spend the rest of her life.

title is from a quote from mary shelley’s frankenstein: “you are still, as you ever were, beyond beautiful expression.”

i chose the st. dominic for mel’s pendant bc hes typically worn by educators

feedback appreciated as always <3

[storiesfromafan]

His Hands - Benny Cross x Reader

A/N: continuing on with my under 1000 word one-shots 😊

This was brought on by seeing gif's where I found Austin's/Benny's hands standing out 😅

Prompt: Comparing hand-sizes to hold their hand against the others and then just holding hands.

Tag list: @strayrockette

Benny’s hands, you’d always had such a fascination with them. Every time he holds a beer, or pool cue. How they look large but not at the same time. You wonder if it’s his fingers maybe. Then you would study them when he would hold a cigarette. The way it would rest between the second and middle finger. While other times, when he was in thought, it was like his fingers and thumb would cover the cigarette as he takes a draw of it. Only to hold it between his thumb and second finger, the middle and ring finger resting under the cigarette, when he removes it from his lips.

Maybe it was a strange thing to fixate on, but you couldn’t help the fascination. For your hands were dainty, as your mother always said when compared to hers. For a good part of your life you secretly compared your hands to other women’s from a distance, because of your mothers words.

But Benny’s was the first male hands you wanted to put yours next too. And part of you wouldn’t mind the difference. Thinking you would enjoy how small your hands would be compared to his, a comfort even.

Sitting around a fire on a cool evening at a Vandal gathering, you were sitting beside Benny on a large log. His left arm was wrapped around you, keeping your shoulders warm. His head was lazily resting against yours. In his right hand he was holding a beer bottle. Which he brought to his lips and finished it off, before dropping it to rest beside his feet. He then placed his right hand on your knee.

You observed how the palm sat against your clothed knee cap, while those long digits of his caressed you in slow, gentle movements. The warmth of his skin penetrative the denim. In this moment it was only Benny and you. Others talked around you, but you didn’t take any notice.

Hesitantly you reached out for Benny’s hand, pausing a moment before committing to finding out once and for all about his hands. You picked up his right hand, turning it over and running the finger tips from your right hand over his palm. Then you moved your left hand over, placing it palm to palm as best you could. All the while Benny tilted his head to watch your movements. He found it amusing how you tried to place your left hand in his at this angle.

Without much thought, Benny moved his hand up and palm facing you. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but seeing his hand just holding out there, you moved yours to lay against his. Palm to palm. Your fingers running along his but fell short in length, just like you thought. With them resting like this you could see his hand was just a little wider, and fingers longer. Yet still beautiful and elegant, if a man’s hand could be.

“What’s this all about sweetheart?” Benny whispered in your ear. Having moved his head so his lips were closer. This conversation meant for just the two of you.

You smiled bashfully. “I was just wantin' so see how big your hands are, is all" you whispered back.

“Oh? Why's that?” He asked in amusement.

You shrugged. “I’ve always been told I have dainty hands, and I wanted to see how small they were against yours".

“Hmmm, they are quiet small, yeah?” Benny said softly, breath tickling your ear.

You nodded slowly, remaining silent. Enjoying the tender, intimate moment.

One minute you are measuring your hands, the next Benny has moved to lace your fingers together. Just showing you, in another way, how larger his hands were. His thumb caressing the back of your hand, as he held you prisoner. Not that you cared. You’d gladly be his prisoner. Moving back, Benny planted a tender kiss to your temple, before resting his head against yours once more.

Yes, Benny’s hands were larger. But you liked that. Knowing your man’s hand could envelope yours. Protecting, warm and gentle. And he wasn’t afraid to hold your hand in front of the club. That he would always be what you needed him to be, your rock.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Some things I’ve noticed on my second viewing of “Five Nights at Freddy’s” (2023)

(Some of these are obvious, don’t @ me, I’m autistic and I had work the day I first watched the film so my brain was all over the place)

Once again, SPOILERS ARE UNDER THE CUT, PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU ARE AVOIDING SPOILERS!!!!

On my first viewing I thought that showing the security guard at the very start loosening the bolts of the chair straps was a fake out to make us believe he’d escape, but actually he loosened the bolts which is how Mike was able to escape later on

Just want to say that the opening credits are fucking cool and I love them so much

In my previous post about things in the FNAF movie, I incorrectly said there was no Golden Freddy - Golden Freddy is in fact in the film, he’s the one who goes to the house/kills Aunt Jane/is in the taxi

Following on from the above point, I said last time that I thought the cupcake was the fifth ghost child but I actually think it’s Golden Freddy to be honest - the blonde girl was obviously Chica, the boy with the bunny ears was Bonnie, the ginger boy was Foxy, and then there was the blonde boy and another boy with a top hat on. I originally thought that the blonde boy who wore the brown shirt was Freddy because he seemed like the leader, but now I’m wondering if the boy with the top hat was Freddy and the leader boy was in fact Golden Freddy (given his blonde hair)? I’m interested to hear what everyone else thinks

This is obvious but the doctor foreshadowed the ending because she told Mike that drawings are powerful tools for children to express things and understand things, and that’s exactly how Abby communicated to the gang at the end that Afton was responsible for their deaths

^side note but as an early years practitioner at a nursery/for preschool children, it’s actually true that pictures are used to help children learn things even before they can read, write or talk. I don’t know, it just interested me to be like “oh yeah that’s true!!”

There was not that much focus on Mike’s dad, like he was seen so briefly compared to his mom, which makes me wonder if there’s something to it that might be revealed in a future film. Like maybe his “dad” isn’t his dad or something? Because in the game canon, William is his father, so… I don’t know. I also saw someone else point out that in the training video Mike watched, there was a man working on the animatronics who maybe looked like the actor playing Mike’s dad, so maybe his dad worked there with the animatronics?

The film appears to be set in 2000; I’m 90% sure the security cam of Mike in the careers office showed the date as being in 2000, but if someone else can clarify or confirm the exact date then that would be great. It would make sense though because Garret presumably went missing around the same time as the ghost kids (in the 80s), so the film being set in the present day (meaning Mike would be in his 50s) would make zero sense. Also the mobile phones/computers all seem like they come from the early 2000s

Someone on Twitter pointed out that one of Abby’s drawings on her wall appeared to be a red airplane, which could just be an indication/foreshadowing of her knowledge of Garret’s disappearance (his toy airplane) but also someone else said it could have been 9/11 which….?!?! If this film is set in 2000, then that’s FUCKED

(I think it’s either a random drawing or to do with Garret’s toy tbh but the idea of her having foresight of 9/11 is fucking horrifying)

I’m still not totally sure which animatronic the gang were going to force Abby into, like it’s one with spring locks and at first I thought it might be Circus Baby but it doesn’t really look like her. It looks almost like a marionette or something? And I mean, yeah, it could be that they changed the design a bit but they literally stayed faithful to the designs of all the animatronics in the series so… you know.

Desperate to know if Matthew Lillard is aware of the fact that his DILF status has been multiplied by one hundred after this film like can someone check in on him and see if he’s alright? 💀 the FNAF girlies fans are frankly RABID about Afton

On that note, I wonder if Josh Hutcherson or Matthew Lillard have ever played any FNAF games, like were they fans before being cast or…? I really wish we could have content of them talking about the film or promoting it, but Hollywood refuses to pay their actors fairly so 🤷‍♀️

Listen, I ADORE both Josh and Matthew anyway but in this film I feel like Matthew especially stood out??? Maybe it’s just the character he’s playing but he ATE this role up (so did Josh but still)

I feel like the springlock scene was actually more terrifying upon a second viewing like at my first one I was like “that’s not as bad as I imagined” but this time I was like “holy shit he’s in agony” like his screams were PAINFUL to listen to

Speaking of painful to listen to, Freddy gave this really guttural and pained roar/scream at one point during the ending and it really made my heart hurt, it’s like the child inside of him was reliving the memory of their murder or something??? I can’t describe it but it was such an intense moment

I honest to god feel like I enjoyed it more on a second viewing and I don’t know why??? Maybe it’s just because the other people in my cinema weren’t laughing every five minutes but still.

I now have the urge to rewatch ALL of Markiplier’s playthroughs of ALL the FNAF games so… yep!

Once again begging for people to talk about FNAF because I’m not the most knowledgable on the series but I do enjoy it!

[i9messi]

Hi love ❤💃 could you maybe write something with charles leclerc x girlfriend reader, maybe shes a actor and does a movie with harry styles maybe like don't worry darling and charles is jelous because every where are scenes of them kissing and having ,,sex" from the movie

Acting — Charles Leclerc

Word count: 720

a/n: fluff

charles' masterlist

"Charles, baby, are you alright?"

You and your boyfriend had just arrived from the premiere of your new movie. Charles had been there to hold your trembling hands, to remind you that you were doing great, and also to bring you calm in all that commotion. It was your first starring role, a very important moment for your acting career and you didn’t want to ruin it.

Everything had gone very well, you had posed for the cameras and then in the cinema room you had sat next to your other co-workers and of course, next to your boyfriend. The film was applauded and you were happy with the result of your performance. It was a film that you had put a lot of time and effort into, and now that the movie had come out, you were proud of your work.

However, your boyfriend has been acting a little weird since he finished watching the movie. At first, he kept smiling, but once you finished watching the film, Charles had driven home quietly. Something was wrong, you could tell by the way his brow was furrowed and he didn’t say anything. Now that you were in the comfort of your home, your boyfriend went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

You took off the heels that hurt your feet and waited for his answer. Charles finally spoke.

"Did you have to kiss so much?"

"Excuse me?"

"You and that guy. In every scene you were practically doing it, well, in a lot of scenes you were doing it."

You finally understood what was happening to him. Some scenes had been quite intimate between you and your co-star, that was true, but everything was fake and for the sake of the movie.

"It’s called acting. It wasn’t real, Charles."

"It seemed quite real to me."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

Your boyfriend was a bad liar. You looked at him for a moment, his face showing how much he had bothered to see you kiss another man. He was serious, just like when during a bad race. It was a face you knew a lot, because whenever things went wrong, he would come to your side to find comfort.

"No way.... You’re actually jealous."

"Maybe I am a little bit jealous. But who wouldn’t be? You were kissing him!"

"Nothing was real, is just my job, Charles. It’s a movie, I’ve acted before and I can swear I never developed any feelings for my other teammates."

Even the scenes of sexual intercourse had been completely taken care of, you and your co-star had shared nothing but fake kisses. Charles remained upset about what had happened and you had the amazing idea to start laughing. It was funny because he didn’t have a real reason to be jealous, you couldn't care less about the other actor, not at least in the way he was concerned about.

"What are you laughing at? I don’t see anything funny..."

"You’re cute."

You narrowed the distance between you and him and decided to kiss your boyfriend. Charles seemed a little calmer once your lips came together, maybe all the questions and doubts disappeared once he knew you were there with him. The kiss you shared was true, his lips made you tremble and feel something in your heart. However, the kisses in the film had no meaning, you had felt nothing. You were in love with him.

"I love you, Charles. I choose you, I always choose you. It was just a movie and I was just acting, you don’t have to be jealous of anyone because I’m yours."

Charles finally opened his eyes and looked at you through his eyelashes.

"You’re mine?"

"Yes, I’m yours."

"Good."

This time, he kissed you. His lips joined in a warm kiss and his hands approached your face and your hair, in a desperate grip to draw you even closer to him. His hands then went down to your waist, leaving soft caresses on your skin, above your dress. You took your time to be able to breathe again, Charles had a unique way of making you feel loved.

"Sorry for everything. I just didn't like that too much, alright?"

"It's fine, love."

"I love you."

"And I love you."

"Kiss me again."

"But- mmph"