#drenching is my favorite sport

[mickandmusings]

you’re losing me

pairing: tyler owens x f! reader

word count: 5.2k

summary:

when tyler, yet again, forgets an important date while he's caught up in chasing, y/n is at her wits end. their relationship feels like it's dying, and he just might have dealt the final blow. after a series of rather unfortunate happenings, it's up to the rest of the wranglers to set them free from the disaster they created.

warnings: ANGST with a capital a; tyler is kind of an ass; halfway edited (sorry); forced proximity; not my most favorite thing i've ever written; sort of suggestive but not explicit

-

The ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall taunts her, reminding her that time was continuing to pass by. She taps her fingers against the table, her patience fleeting.

Y/N picks up her phone to check it for nearly the twentieth time in the past half hour. She had hoped to look down and see a missed call or an apologetic message from her boyfriend, who, at present, is an hour and a half late for their anniversary dinner. She had the table set for two some time ago: a home cooked meal in the oven, a bottle of white wine to split, and a candle lit in the center of the table. She sported a flowy sundress that tapered off mid-calf-Tyler's favorite dress on her-one that she just knew was going to end up on the floor of their bedroom by now.

Clearly, she'd been mistaken.

She presses the button on the side and the screen illuminates the dimly-lit room. The only thing that greets her is an empty lockscreen- a picture of Tyler smiling down at her as she looks up at him, taken over a year ago. She sighs in annoyance, putting the phone back down as the tear in her heart only grows bigger and bigger. She'd known this would happen, and despite all her efforts to avoid it, he had still forgotten.

She'd started two weeks beforehand, by telling him that she wanted to spend the night of their anniversary with him, alone. He'd agreed, claiming it was a great idea. That night, she put the reminder in his phone calendar and wrote it into the paper one that lived on his fridge. A week before, she'd mentioned it a thousand times: over dinner, during grocery shopping, and even during post-bliss pillow talk. He'd pull her into his arms and kiss her head, assuring her every time that he'd be there with bells on. Naively, she had believed him. Now, she was sitting alone at his dinner table in her prettiest sundress, feeling like a complete fool.

Her phone dings, and she feels the rip in her heart stitch itself back together for a slight moment. When she notices it's not Tyler, her shoulders slump.

The Tornado Wranglers are LIVE! Click here to watch now!

She's quick to click it, watching as it loads before she sees Boone's face in the frame, the top of Tyler's hat visible. Her heart shatters, watching as her boyfriend smiles and hollers for the camera, chasing a storm. She'd known there was a big storm forming for the past few days: when Tyler went out on a chase, she watched the weather as if it were a nail-biting thriller. Hearing him on the livestream had been the first time she'd seen or heard from him all day, despite his promises to be next to her this very moment.

She exits the live and stands from the dinner table, already knowing her boyfriend wouldn't be home any time soon. She blows out the candle and puts the unopened wine back in the kitchen, wrapping the dinner she'd made in tin foil and tossing it into the fridge. Despite her simmering anger, she knew Tyler would come home drenched, so she set out a dry change of clothes and a towel on the washing machine for him to see. Shaking her head, she bit her lip and swallowed thickly as she moved to the en suite bathroom and changed out of the dress, her perfectly curled hair wasted. She throws on her pajamas and her (intentionally not Tyler's) hoodie, climbing into her side of their shared bed. She plugs her phone into the charger and switches on the silent function, not wanting to be bothered as she wallows. Finally, she plops down onto her pillow and curls under the blankets, her annoyance slowly fading into disappointment. She tries to push the tears back, feeling stupid for crying over something so trivial, but it had hurt that he'd forgotten something that was supposed to be important to both of them. She feels asinine, like a dog with a bird at his door, only to be shut out. A choked sob slips past her lips, and she's done for. She curls in on herself, legs to her chest as she cries until her body could no longer take it, and lets her eyes shut for sleep.

-

Hours later, Tyler stumbles into his house, plopping off his soaking wet boots on the rug at the garage door. He's slightly dry from his ride home, but his clothes still cling to his skin, making him shiver when he walks into the house. He turns to lock the door behind him, shuffling into the laundry room that connected the garage and the house. He puts his wet hat on the hook, peeling out of his sopping shirt and jeans, finding a change of clothes and towel set out for him. He smiled, knowing he'd likely find his girlfriend passed out on the couch with the weather forecast still playing on the screen. He changed quickly, hands itching to pull her into his hold and fall into a deep sleep. As he leaves the laundry room and heads to the kitchen, he notes the dinner table set with placemats and silverware next to them. He gives the set up a confused look before shrugging, tossing back a glass of water before walking towards the living room.

The empty room stops him in his tracks completely. The TV had been shut off, only a black screen staring back at him. There had been no indication that Y/N had been here at all-the blankets were folded neatly into the basket, pillows still upright and straight. He looked for anything-a charger plugged into the wall, her current read on the coffee table, an empty mug-but found no signs of the girl he loved. 'Maybe she had an early night,' his mind tried to grasp an explanation of why she wasn't where she always was when he was out on a chase.

Tyler's hand wipes his face, rubbing his tired eyes as he stomps up the stairs to their shared bedroom. The hallway is cloaked in darkness, and he has to use his phone's flashlight just to make his way to the door. He turns it off when he turns the knob and pushes the door open, not wanting the blinding light to disturb her. He makes out her figure curled into her side of the bed, looking small. He frowns again, it was always guaranteed she'd be curled into his pillow if he was gone, often wrapped in some article of his clothing, if not completely dressed in only his clothes.

Wordlessly, he comes to her side of the bed to kiss her head, checking in to make sure she was okay. Moonlight from the window illuminates her face, and he finds his chest tightening as he looks at her. Tears had dried to her skin, and a frown was etched onto her face, even in her slumber. He pushes hair from her face, finding the strand curled, and kisses her forehead lightly. He pulls the covers over her more, making sure she was entirely tucked in. With a worried frown now marking his own face, he shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He opens the door and flicks on the light, the sight in front of him bringing his confusion to new heights.

A white sundress stares back at him, sitting crumpled on the counter. The puffy sleeves are deflated, and the slit on the leg had flopped over, exposing the other side of the fabric. This dress only made an appearance for special occasions, mainly because he couldn't keep his hands off of her when she wore it. She'd talked about it for weeks, she was going to wear it on their anniver-he stills-no. Tyler's heart sinks to his feet, hammering against his chest so loudly it rattles his eardrums. There is no way he'd forgotten. The unusual things in his home began to add up, and, with shaking hands, he reaches for his phone and stares down at the photo of her smiling back at him. She's standing in a poncho, drenched, but smiling as she uses her hand to point towards a barreling storm in the distance. Sure enough, in the slew of notifications he'd ignored, sits a calendar reminder:

'Our anniversary date ;) <3'

He plops down on the side of the tub and scrolls through the messages and calls Y/N had left, clicking on the voicemail she'd left, her sweet voice filling his ears:

'Hey Ty, it's almost nine, I just...um, just checking on you. I-I don't know if you're just running late or you forgot, but...I love you, see you soon. Be careful, please. Call me when you get this.'

He pieces it together quickly-the table set up for two, his favorite dress she'd been wearing, her hair curled just to look nice for him-the realization guts him. He had been stupid, so caught up in the thrill of the chase he completely forgot about the one thing that always brought him home. His brain recalls her excitement over the dinner she would cook, and he had planned on bringing flowers and her favorite sweets from that bakery downtown, hoping to charm that dress right off of her. He pushes his damp hair back with his hands, he had fucked up, and royally. The reason she hadn't done the things she normally did when he was gone was because he wasn't supposed to be gone at all.

He breaths deeply before brushing his teeth, sliding into the bed next to her and pulling her close. He'd hold her while he could, because he'd spend the next few days groveling for her forgiveness. He'd wake up early-clean up the dishes from last night, cook her breakfast, do the laundry, pick up groceries for the week. Hell, he'd kiss her fucking feet if it meant she'd forgive him. His eyes shut closed with sleep, and night quickly fades into morning.

-

Y/N is the first to wake, her skin burning under Tyler's touch. She immediately rolls away from his grasp, and the content look on his sleeping face makes her flame with anger. She rolls her eyes and stomps out of the room, purposefully slamming the door to the bedroom enough to rattle the frames on the walls. The noise jostles Tyler from his sleep, and he sits up in his bed, allowing himself only a minute of solitude before he realizes he's under the dog house.

Quietly, he stomps down the stairs, finding Y/N already standing at the sink, sleeves pushed up as she scrubs at a pot hastily. Her face is drawn into an angry frown, and the air is thick with tension. There's none of her music filtering through the tiny speaker in the window, none of her humming as she works. She's angry, she's hurt, and all she really wants is an apology.

"Mornin'," his voice is raspy, and he awkwardly hovers behind her, watching from a distance as she ignores him. He comes over and lightly grabs her arm, attempting to take over the task. "I can do that, darlin', you go sit at the bar and I'll cook you breakfast, yeah?"

She snatches her arm from his grasp and gives him an unpleasant look, only returning to the dishes in front of her as she shakes her head. He gives a deep sigh, stepping away from her to give her space.

Her silent treatment was always the worst.

"Baby, please, I-I know I fucked up, I'm just trying to make it up to you, let me-"

She lets out an angry laugh, dropping the pot back into the soapy sink with a shake of her head. Her veins fill with a fury she can't control, and she's almost blinded by her rage.

"Fucked up is an understatement, Tyler."

Her angry words were piercing, but at least she was talking.

"Y/N/N, I know, I'm going to make this up to you. I'll-"

"I don't want to hear your lies that I hear every time you mess up, Tyler. You're not going to take time away from chasing, so you can stop feeding me that same lie."

Her honesty stops him in his tracks. He starts to feel defensive, his own anger rising to the surface.

"Just listen-"

The bowl she's cleaning clamors against the other dishes in a loud fashion, making him jump slightly as she turns to face him. Fury is written across her face completely.

"No! You listen! I planned this for weeks, Tyler, weeks! I did everything, the cooking, the cleaning, the waiting around for four fucking hours! All you had to do was show up, and you couldn't even do that."

She swallows thickly, the anger beginning to fester into the sadness she'd been shoving down. Her chest moves in short breaths, and she tries to control her breathing as she looks up at him. He notes her teary eyes-she's not really angry, she's hurting.

"It would've been fine if this was a one off thing, but it isn't. You and I both know that." Her voice is lacking the fire it once had, replaced with a wave of vulnerability she rarely lets show. She pauses and wipes her hands with the kitchen towel in her hands. Her eyes dart across the room in thought, never meeting his. "First it was my birthday, and then not just one, but two dates, and now this. Every other time I just let it go, not wanting to start anything, but I can't anymore, because it just keeps happening. Tyler, I love you, but you're breaking my heart."

Her bottom lip wobbles as she takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, trying to have a conversation with the man she was begging to love her the way she loved him.

"I'm not asking you to give it up, I'm just asking for one day, maybe every couple weeks? I feel like I sleep next to you but I never see you, and-," her eyebrows furrow before she takes a defensive step back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just don't want to have to beg you to want to spend time with me."

Tyler's heart shatters. He fumbles to come up with the right words, knowing the wrong ones could ruin everything. He loved her immeasurably, and he'd been so goddamn blind. His mind raced with the dozens of things she does for him without being asked-making sure he had dry clothes after chasing, ensuring he had a decent meal every time he came home, tens upon hundreds of tiny actions that he had taken for granted. When was the last time he'd done something like that for her? The one time she had asked him, weeks in advance, to save a day for her, he had neglected it completely, unintentionally or not.

She looks down at her feet, feeling so incredibly small, invisible, like the man in front of her can't see her at all. She was tired of trying to keep their relationship alive all on her own. She wasn't in denial that Tyler loved her, she knew he did, but the last few months had felt as if he hardly remembered she was there. Her anxiety spirals-did he really love her, or was she just convenient for him?

"I know that chasing is important to you, and I love seeing you do it, but it always comes before me. I just want to know, will I ever come first?" Her voice is so, so hurt, and the girl he knows has withered away. The only thing that remains is the shell of her in front of him, pleading for him to just notice her. "It's okay if not, I-I just need to know. Because I can't keep having this fight, just tell me the truth so if the answer is no, I can move on."

Tyler's heart hammers, his own insecurity flaring.

"W-What? No, no, chasin' doesn't come before you, ever. Y-You know that."

She gives him a doubtful look.

"You do know that right?"

"Tyler, name one time that you've dropped everything from chasing a storm to do something for me?"

She stands leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of her. His mind cannot conjure one situation, and he knows she's right, he'd never put her first. Not once. He had missed her birthday party just last month for a big storm over in Kansas, on his own. The rest of the Wranglers had even cancelled to be there for her. Both Boone and Lilly both had called him from the party to reprimand him, and he'd stayed anyways. Then he'd done it again, twice, just two weeks later. Each time, she'd forgiven him with open arms, never fighting him on it, simply accepting his lie that he'd never do it again.

She simply nods, waiting to see how long it would take Tyler to realize just how miserable this had been for her. He grows defensive, trying to make excuses for his actions.

"That storm in Kansas, w-we haven't seen a storm that scale since-"

"Tyler, save it," she starts, her voice growing an edge. "You answered my question, that's all I needed to know."

He watches as she literally and metaphorically throws in the towel, a somber look written across her face.

“I-I need some air.”

She says nothing else, only sliding on her shoes and slipping out the garage door. He expects to hear the jangling of her keys and then the roar of her car’s engine, but neither come-she’d taken out on foot.

Tyler ignores the rush of tears that threatened to spill from behind his eyes, his chest so full of guilt it feels like he might combust from one single sob. He stews in his emotions as he resumes the task she'd started-at least when she got back, the dishes would be one less thing for her to worry about. As his hands scrubbed at various pots and pans, he thought about the thousands of things he wanted to do to show her that he was serious. He wanted to run after her, to pull her back into his house, but he knew she needed her space, time away from him to think. Tyler wrestles with his emotions, knowing this could very well be the end of them, and it'd be his fault entirely. He'd let the best thing in his life slip entirely out of his grasp, all because he'd had his head in the clouds. It had been obvious to everyone around him, except him. How had he been so blind to her anguish?

He moves around the kitchen in complete silence, only the rattle of the dishes he's putting away filling his ears. He ponders over the dark hue forming across the sky, wishing Y/N had taken a jacket or an umbrella with her. He wonders if he should call her, just to tell her that he could leave while she stayed here, he didn't want her in the rain. He doesn't overthink it and pulls up her contact, letting it ring before he hears vibrating. His eyes turn to the direction of the noise.

Shit.

She'd left her phone here.

He turns his attention to the slew of missed messages on his own phone. Just twenty minutes ago, Dexter had texted him about a storm forming just miles from his home. The messages after were from Dani, Boone, and Lilly, all asking if he and Y/N were okay. His eyebrows pinched and he frowned, about to respond with a question mark before he heard the shrill ring of the tornado siren outside his window. His eyes glance up to see a darkening sky, heavy clouds sitting low in the sky.

He tosses his phone into his pocket before he's pulling on his still-wet boots and bolting out his garage door. A tornado was minutes from hitting here, and his girlfriend was wandering around aimlessly. She couldn't have gone far, his house sat miles from town, the only neighbors being a relatively empty home the next street over-the family only visited during the winter months, they paid him handsomely to keep their grass cut when they weren't in town-so he knew that she wouldn't have anyone to look out for her. His boots clicked on asphalt, his voice hoarse as he yelled after her, her name falling desperately from his lips as the wind whipped around his face.

With no signs of her appearing, his heart began to hammer against his chest. Rain began to pelt his clothes and it only urged his aching legs to move faster. His mind conjures images he fears-her stuck under a collapsed tree or shed, left for dead because he'd been stupid. They urged him to the neighbor's house, chest searing with anxiety as he heaved, still not seeing anything-no flashes of the simple dress she'd been wearing, or the cardigan she'd wore over it tossed somewhere. Before his brain could stop him, he was pulling the spare key from under the mat, all but trespassing into his neighbor's home, shouting her name. Nothing.

He slams the door, running a hand through his hair as he begins to panic. His chest feels tight, his mind growing fuzzy with the thought of her being out in this storm alone. The air only grows more thick, and a crack of lightning startles him. It sends him into taking off on foot in their backyard, even slinging open the door of the storm shelter to see if she'd hid there. It was empty, making him let out a string of curses to the sky.

Then, he hears her voice. He almost thinks he's imagining it, her tone is sweet and gentle, and he thinks he's losing his mind.

"Hey, it's okay little guy."

It's the voice he knows well-the voice she uses for animals and babies. His jade eyes turn to see her hair blowing in the wind, her dress wet from the weather. She's crouched down and attempting to move a stack of firewood from the neighbors yard, her eyes on alert she hears Tyler's footsteps crunch the ground behind her. She whips around, looking at him.

"Tyler, help me, there's a rabbit, he's stuck."

Tyler looks at her with wide eyes. His voice is loud over the sirens blaring in the air and the wind whipping.

"Darlin', there's a big ass storm coming right for us! Leave it! We gotta get down, now!"

Her eyes are fiery when she turns back to look at him.

"Then leave, but I'm not leaving him here!"

Her hands hastily moved large pieces of firewood, getting more and more drenched. She lifts a particularly heavy one and throws it across the grass.

"If you're just going to stand there and not help, then go! I don't need you hovering because you care all of a sudden!"

Tyler's heart shatters, she thought he didn't care? Of course he cared, but he was more concerned with keeping her safe. He sighs at her stubbornness, moving to help lift the firewood at a faster pace. She lifts a particularly stubborn piece, drawing her hand back quickly with a soft 'fuck!' He tosses her a concerned look but moves on working to get the firewood moved. His muscle flexes as Tyler throws the piece caging the animal in and watches as it bolts towards the treeline. He slings an arm around her shoulder as the roar of the storm grows closer, all but manhandling her into the storm shelter he'd just looked in. It wasn't shabby by any means, well stocked and clean, but small. He shuts the door with a grunt, turning to face her and watching as she digs through a first aid kit.

"What're you doin'?"

She says nothing, only sticking out her right hand for him to see. It's bleeding from a cut, tiny pieces of wood protruding from around it.

"Shit, baby," he moves to grab the kit from her. "Stop, just stop tryin' to do it on your own, it's only going to get worse."

She stills, looking up at him with dagger-like eyes.

"Look, you did your job. I'm safe here, you can go."

Go? Where the hell did she think he was going?

"I know you're itching to go chase it, it's probably going to be a big one."

Oh.

"You think I'm going to leave you here alone to go chase this thing?"

She shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

It's his turn to look offended, even though he shouldn't be. She was only speaking the truth. He knows he would be quick to defend himself, but he doesn't, knowing the hurt he'd bestowed upon her just hours beforehand. He lightly tugs the kit away from her, giving the soft, sympathetic eyes that had her hardened heart melting. He makes quiet work of removing the shards of wood, and moves to clean it with the tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol. She winces when it makes contact with the open wound, but a sweet kiss to her temple has her distracted as he finishes bandaging it. When he looks down at her, he finds her eyes already looking up at him. The look she gives him begs him to say something, to just apologize and say he'd do better, and actually mean it this time. He opens his mouth to speak, but it's cut off by a boisterous slam to the shelter door, one that startles Y/N, and she slides into his hold without thinking.

"What the hell was that?!" Her voice trembles.

"I don't know." He doesn't want to move her from his arms, but he needs to see what's going on. He kisses her temple again, setting her on the twin sized mattress that sat on the ground. He makes his way up the stairs of the shelter, moving to push the door open. He knows it's a stupid, risky move, but he does it anyway.

He pushes it forward, the door not even budging. He frowns, moving positions to put his entire body weight on the door, and the door remains shut. He pushes with his entire strength multiple times, before his mind draws a conclusion.

"It's probably a tree or somethin'," He sighs as he steps away from the door. "Probably got knocked down by the wind, fell over on top of the door."

"So we're trapped here?"

"For the time being, yes," He starts, coming to sit down next to her, her head resting on his shoulder. "But I'll get in touch with Dexter and Dani, maybe Boone too. See if one of them can get a truck out here and move it. We'll have to wait for this storm to pass though."

He fishes out his phone and begins to type, his eyes darting across the screen before Dexter's typing bubble finally forms into a message.

'We'll be there as soon as this storm settles!'

Y/N nods when he shows her the message, moving to rest her head on his chest, her heart racing. Without a word, he pulls her into his lap, his eyes now focused on her bandaged hand. She notes his concern quickly.

"It's fine, doesn't even really hurt. Just stings."

He shakes his head.

"Doesn't matter. You got hurt, again, because I did somethin' dumb as hell. Seems like all I've done for the past few months is hurt you. M'sorry, I really am. I fucked up, and I'm prepared to grovel for it."

She nods, biting her lip as she pushes a section of wet hair out of his face.

"You did, but that doesn't mean you can't fix it. Just, this time, promise you'll actually do what you say you will. Don't let it be empty words."

He makes an 'X' motion over the center of his chest-cross my heart-and watches as a small smile forms across her face. He notes it's genuine nature and it forms a smile of his own across his face.

He pulls her head softly under his chin, moving his face to where he's whispering directly into her ear. She leans into his warmth, still shivering from her damp clothes.

"I love you," his voice is a sincere whisper, laced with every ounce of emotion he can muster. She kisses the underside of his jaw, making him close his eyes and sigh.

"I know. I love you too, even when you really piss me off."

He lets out a chuckle, kissing behind her ear, a spot that makes her entire frame stiffen in his hold. He places another one just under it, making her pull away for a moment.

"You're playing with fire, Owens. What are you gonna do, take me on this twin mattress on the floor?"

Her voice is laced with sarcasm and humor, completely joking. One look in his now emerald green irises tells her he wasn't joking, not one ounce of him thought it was a joke.

"Well, might as well start my grovelin' as quickly as possible, got a lot to catch up on." He kisses the spot again, making her hand fly to his damp hair. "And I haven't done this in far too long."

His hands come to her hips, pulling her in even closer in his lap. His calloused hands land on her ass, and she yelps.

“Ty, you can’t be serious.”

He sends her a raised eyebrow. His hand squeezes the supple skin of her bottom.

“Baby,” his voice is just above a whisper, deathly serious, his gaze darkening. “When have I ever joked about taking you any time, any place?"

Y/N shudders. "Never."

"That's what I thought."

His lips connect with hers in a rough manner, effectively shutting her up.

-

A few hours later, as Y/N lies across Tyler's chest, her dress tossed somewhere, she's awoken by a sharp knock at the shelter door.

"T? Y/N/N? Hey, we're here. We're gonna get this tree off of y'all!" Boone's voice fills her ears and she all but scrambles up, face flushed red with embarrassment at the thought of them walking into the shelter to see her and Tyler both bare. Tyler only snoozes and turns over, and she rolls her eyes, he'd sleep through a hurricane-literally. She grabs his shirt and lightly pops him with it.

"Tyler!" She whispers-shouts, quickly buttoning up the front of her dress she'd found on the floor. His jade eyes pop open, shuffling off the blanket that had been draped across him for his modesty.

"Hm, what?" His voice comes out groggy.

"Get up, get dressed, they're here!" She throws her cardigan back on her shoulders as she tosses his jeans over to him, his belt buckle just missing his head. Tyler rubs his eyes tiredly, not quite awake enough for him to care about being completely naked.

Y/N turns to him to fuss, but she's cut off at the creaking of the storm shelter's door opening. She stills, face burning from a hot blush. From above ground, Boone, Dani and Dexter look down at them, the latter two jaws dropping and darting their eyes away. Boone clocks Tyler and swallows thickly.

"Ty, man, I am seein' entirely way too much of you right now."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@rebel-ezra

@fanboysfangirl

@mbioooo0000

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i'm not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw's/cw's & i'll be happy to share those!

a/n: it's been a hot, hot minute since i've had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children's hospital), but i've been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i'd at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i'm nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

creampie + breeding kink — he’s a family man & lord knows how badly he wants his own. he’s possessive, too, & this sates both of those desires well for him.  he’s always whispering something in your ear, hand low on your belly about how good you’d look carrying his babies. and once you’re actually pregnant? sweet jesus, he’s never taking his hands off of you.

shower sex — he’s talked a number of times about how he’ll shower multiple times a day, and something tells me he’d never object to a partner. more than once he’s had you against the tiled walls until the water ran cold and your teeth were chattering.  he’d then proceed to take it upon himself to warm you up again, ever the gentleman.

post-workout sex — there’s something about the way you look, out of breath & drenched in sweat that sends all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. you’re trying to push him away, afraid that you’re just too gross, but this man does not give a single fuck.  he adores you in all your sweaty, sticky glory & is on you the second you make it back from your class, peeling you out of your leggings and wrangling your too-tight sports bra over your head.  and it goes the other way as well: his favorite workout cooldown is fucking you senseless; there’s something deeply primal about the exertion of a workout that clouds his head with only thoughts of you, out of breath & on the brink of orgasm.

minor kinks | hair pulling — rough sex — cockwarming — pussy worship — possessiveness — soft dom — teasing — dirty talk

praise kink — he’s a talker in bed, and that means that he’s telling you just how delicious the tight clutch of your velvet walls feels around his cock. one language is not enough to tell you all the ways you make him feel, how good you are, how badly he’s wanted you. it certainly doesn’t hurt when you reciprocate, but the sounds he’s able to work out of you are often enough for him.

vanilla sex — listen: it’s no secret that this man is a romantic, and there are few things as romantic as good ole vanilla sex. sure, some spice is nice every once in a while, but he doesn’t need it to get his rocks off. he’s too caught up in the romance of it all—the tangle of limbs, skin pressed against skin, stuttering breaths, and stammering hearts—to want anything else.  all he needs is you.

kissing — similar as above, charles is a sucker for romance, and a good makeout sess is just the right thing to get him hot and bothered.  he’s very talented with languages, and his mastery of his tongue doesn’t end with words. *wink wink*

minor kinks | oral sex (giving + receiving) — creampie — cowgirl — bathtub sex — breathplay

mutually drunk sex — no matter how much he loves a club scene, he’d always find himself back in your arms.  happy, sloppy, messy sex. as much as he loves a g&t, he loves the taste of you more.

wax play — we’ve seen the clips. he likes dripping the wax just as much as he likes being dripped on, and every time you go to light a candle his eyes get that hungry look like he could devour you whole; you’ve learned how to use this to your advantage.

dirty talk + praise kink — as we all know, this man is a certified YAPPER. and, unsurprisingly, that extends to the bedroom, too.  always groaning, grunting, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, there’s very little that leaves him truly speechless; you’ll always know exactly how he feels when you're riding his cock or taking him deep in your throat, whether that’s in dutch, english, or the french he’s been trying to practice. and, given his upbringing, he lives for the praises that fall past your lips; he aims to please, and your sweet words are all the motivation he needs.

minor kinks | restraints (giving + receiving) — spanking — threesomes — nipple play — sensory play

massage — he takes great pride in his physique, and he thinks every inch of you is perfect.  he loves watching all the tension leave your body. with such limited time in his busy, busy life, he thrives on the time he gets to spend with you; few things can compete with the peace, intimacy, and pleasure that comes from the feeling of your hands working over the tight muscles of his back and legs. and if they happen to wander somewhere else? well, what a happy accident that would be!

fingering — if there’s one thing lewis knows, it’s that a man’s most important tool isn’t the one between his legs.  he loves all the ways in which you unravel for him, your back pressed against his chest with your legs draped over his own to keep them open.  he’ll play with you like that for hours if he could, unlacing your composure until you're boneless and melting into him with every touch. (also, dear god, have you seen his hands? female gaze bait of the highest form.)

the lingerie stays on — there’s a litany of pick-up lines about clothes, etc. looking good on you but better on their floor, and a one mr. hamilton disagrees with that sentiment; we know well how he appreciates fine garments, and he loves them even more when you’re wearing them.  he’s most certainly one to spoil his partner, and if he’s going to buy you that agent provocateur set, you can bet he wants to see you in it.

minor kinks | soft dom — cowgirl — voyeurism — intimacy — dirty talk — shower sex — pillowtalk

face riding — why do you think he takes so much pride in his neck strength? and even when you’re squirming away from overstimulation, he’s more than able to hold you in place by hooking his toned biceps over your shaking thighs. he’s a menace, but he never leaves a partner wanting for more.

wearing his clothes — okay, this one isn’t original in the slightest because i simply cannot get this blurb by @folkloresthings out of my head.  nando would keel over at the sight of you in his clothes, especially if there was a particular lack of certain undergarments. he’d pull you in by the excess material and have you right there if feasible.

anal sex — all the nando fuckers know that he’s a little freaky—can i get an amen? that being said, his experience goes a long way in helping his partner get the most out of it and making it a pleasurable experience for all parties. he’d take his time working you open, pairing it with leg-shaking orgasms to wash away any doubts in your mind. it’s a new sensation, but a welcome one at that.

minor kinks | swallowing / facials — teasing — spanking — rough sex — sloppy sex — aftercare

teasing — a tyrant on the track and one in the bedroom as well. or in the car. or at a dinner with a few too many pairs of eyes. regardless, being a tease is his favorite above all else despite his own inability to handle a healthy dose of his own medicine. 

overstimulation — this more or less goes hand-in-hand with his teasing, but he loves the way you beg when you’re coming down from one high and coasting right into another. “just one more, liebling” or “you’ve got another one, don’t you, schatz?” or “i know you can take it, kleiner hase” before making your vision go white as he wrings another orgasm from you.

morning sex — but, above all else, sebastian is a lover, and few things are quite as intimate as slow, fumbling, half-awake morning sex where you’re mumbling praises and communicating in soft, hushed sounds of pleasure. chasing sensations and desires before your mind is even fully awake takes a strong, trusting bond, and he prides himself on this with his partner.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — mutual masturbation — toys — soft restraints (giving + receiving) — creampie / breeding — praise kink — dirty talk

cowgirl — this man & his obsession w/ texas—need i say more? how does that saying go, again? “save a horse…”

photos/sextape — daniel3.jpg would like a word.  he’s obsessed with this new medium, and what’s a better way to remember a spicy moment than on film? plus, when you’re traveling 200-plus days a year, you need a way to bring a piece of home with you however you can, whether that’s watching you fall apart while arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight or taking him into the back of your throat as you look up at him through damp lashes or riding his cock or or arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight…you get the picture.

threesomes — considering the way that everyone fawns over him on the grid, this man could so easily work himself into some surprising pairings. his love language is physical touch and he’s not afraid to share it. that, combined with his competitiveness and desire to please, turns into a dangerous desire for him to see you fucked out and overwhelmed by your own need for more.

minor kinks | mirror sex — dirty talk — thigh riding — facefucking — rough sex — hair pulling

rough sex — aussie grit. there’s nothing else i need to say other than he’s a wild ride.

aftercare — any rough lover worth their prowess, though, knows the importance of aftercare, and mark is no different in that regard.  he takes it very seriously and is always checking in afterward to make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, peppering you in sweet kisses and warm embraces.

pussy worship — we’ve all seen the clip, right? this man knows how to eat pussy and he’s damn good at it. better yet—he loves doing it. you’d practically have to pry him off you from the overstimulation, his tongue, lips, and teeth finding alllll the right ways to make you fall apart.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — possessiveness — massage — swallowing / facials

exhibitionism + voyeurism — the grid slag. he’s confident about his body and his abilities, and he’s not afraid to share. he’s not overly possessive and an unabashed hedonist to boot, so this pairing works perfectly to get his rocks off (and hopefully yours, too). he’s a little freak, and he’s not afraid to let it show!

spanking — when you’re especially mouthy (frequently to get these exact reactions) and he’s a little bold, jenson is partial to taking you over his knee and seeing how long you can keep up the act before you’re a whimpering mess. frequently this ends with him literally kissing your ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping cunt while another toys with your too-sensitive clit.

brattiness — again, like above, he loves when you backtalk or drag your heels on him, making him work for your pleasure and, on some nights, your submission. (though, he’s not afraid to admit how fucking hot he finds it when you take control, using him for your pleasure and taking what you need. all that matters to him is raw, messy, dirty fun.)

minor kinks | threesomes — begging — degradation kink (giving + receiving) — nipple play — oral sex (giving + receiving) — toys

final note: that's all, folks! now what do you think? let me know! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes​ where i reblog inspo & recs!

[chilschuck]

beach day headcanons please (any characters you’d like)!!! we were deprived of the typical anime fanservice imo

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhh my gosh anon i was literally SO SO HAPPY to get this ask!!! decided to stick with the usual charas you guys enjoy, plus some falin!!! hope this turned out okay and thank you so much for having me write it for you!!! <333

— DUNMESHI BEACH DAY HCS.

꒰ charas: ꒱ laios, chilchuck, falin, & mickbell.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw + fluff with gn!reader.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.4k

✦ hope this turned out okay!! it was such a cute idea and so much fun that if anyone has requests for more charas, i’d be more than happy to do it!! <33

— LAIOS:

✦ We know that he doesn’t do well in hot weather, so you can imagine he’d be sporting only swimsuit trunks and flip flops for sure.

✦ Definitely enjoys being in the ocean, especially to try and cool off. You can imagine he’d be really interested in knowing more about what’s in the water around him, and probably points things out to you that he finds interesting.

✦ Be prepared for him to burn really fast, so make sure he gets plenty of sunscreen!! It’s always cute to see him walk up to you and ask for help, in which you gladly oblige. You help get those spots he can’t reach, and he does appreciate just how thorough you are.

✦ You’ll probably end up splashing him, which he’ll return in kind. Be careful what you start, because you’ll end up drenched by the end of it!

✦ A picnic on the beach with him is definitely something that happens while you’re there. Laios is so excited to share a meal with you in such a beautiful setting, and finds himself giving you that goofy grin at just how happy he is. He makes sure to pull all the stops to make this enjoyable for you, even preparing your favorite snacks.

✦ Definitely goes home with a few shells or shark teeth, if he found any. Laios thinks they’re too cool not to pick up and examine, running over to you and showing you what he found in the sand.

“You won’t believe what I found!” Laios calls out to you, jogging over to where you sat on your towel. His hands cradled something, and as he stretched his arms out to show you, a smile grew on your lips.

In his hands was an almost perfect conch shell, something he held with pride and excitement. His smile matching yours, he said your name softly. “Do you think if you put it up to your ear, you’d hear the ocean like those stories?”

You shrugged your shoulders, not able to hold back the giggle at his glee. “Only one way to find out, right? Just make sure there’s nothing still living in it.”

Laios still keeps that shell in a safe place, wanting to remember the day you spent together.

— CHILCHUCK:

✦ This man is definitely showing up in a Hawaiian dad shirt and cargo shorts. The first few buttons are undone, and he has a pair of sandals on that he insists he only saves for days like this.

✦ Chilchuck plans on staying at the spot you claimed with towels and an umbrella, a drink in hand. He’s definitely enjoying the sight of you in a swimsuit and the breeze ruffling your hair, but he’d never admit that.

✦ You try to pull him towards the water, but you only manage to get his feet wet. Chil tells you this is as far as he’ll go, but that disappointed pout on your face makes his heart race a bit. Ok, fine… Maybe he’ll go up to his knees for you…

✦ Probably spends most of his time drinking and relaxing, a hand behind his head and alcohol in the other. Very dad-like of him, you muse, which causes his face to heat up and grumbles to leave him.

✦ Ends up falling asleep, the sound of the waves and the secluded shade from the sun causing his eyes to flutter shut. You can’t help but laugh a little, returning from your time in the water to study his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful like this, and you don’t have the heart to wake him up…

✦ If you do somehow manage to get him fully in the water, be prepared for him to get targeted by the tide. Maybe you even suggest getting him a float, which he gives you that blank stare in reply.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” You say as he finds himself in the middle of a tube float, eyes narrowed towards you.

“This makes me feel like a kid.” Chilchuck complains, yet you see him grip onto it tighter as an incoming wave makes an appearance.

You pull it over to you, the inflatable bumping into your stomach as you give him that teasing grin. “Guess you’re stuck with me while we’re out here, huh?”

The half-foot groans, debating on whether or not he’d make it if he tried to swim back to shore right now.

— FALIN:

✦ Wears a light t-shirt and shorts, opting to be comfy! She also has a hat she wears to help keep the sun out of her eyes. If she did plan on swimming, I like to imagine she’d have a swim shirt and a one piece swimsuit!

✦ Like her brother, she was excited to see all the shells and creatures at the beach, bringing you things she found fascinating. You might even find her entranced with a sand dollar and stating how pretty it is.

✦ Walks into the water hand in hand with you, but also really enjoys walking along the sand near the shore. As the sun sets, she intertwines her fingers with yours, leading you along and watching the pinks and blues in the sky reflect on the waves.

✦ Also definitely goes on a picnic with you, the beach making her cheeks even more rosy than usual. You can’t help but tell her how cute she looks in her outfit, her hair loosely blowing in the breeze. Falin would give you a sweet smile, the same one you fell in love with.

✦ Don’t be surprised if she leads you back to the water after you make sure she’s not getting burnt, insisting that she wants to enjoy how cool the waves feel. You’re more than happy to walk out a little deeper with her, noticing how she still keeps your hand in her own.

“It’s so nice out here…” You heard her mutter, a content smile dimpling her cheeks. The sunset left a sweet gradient in her hair, something that made you unable to look away.

“It really is. Too bad it’s getting dark,” you reply, a little disappointed that the day is already over. Falin squeezed your hand, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Maybe we should stay and watch the stars come out.” Her voice was so gentle, causing you to give her a grin of your own.

“Let’s stay a little longer.”

— MICKBELL:

✦ Like the official art we have of him swimming with Kuro, he’s definitely sporting a pair of swim trunks and flip flops, with his hair in his signature ponytail.

✦ He and Kuro are so excited to swim, and drag you along to the water as soon as you get there. Of course, Mick is either clinging to you or to Kuro when in the waves, not seeking to really swim on his own.

✦ You definitely enjoy watching them swim and play around more than you’d like to admit, especially with Mick hiding his face and complaining when Kuro decides to shake all the water out of his coat.

✦ Mick really likes finding shells he thinks look neat, and showing them off to you and Kuro proudly. Maybe you even find yourself building a sand castle, with him and his buddy watching closely and moving to help you. He’s in charge of decorating it, while you’re in charge of building it! Kuro helps dig up some of the sand to use.

✦ The three of you end up getting a sweet treat, cooling off in the shade and enjoying the time spent together. Knowing Mickbell, he’s going to lay his head in your lap as he rests after so much activity, looking up at you with that cheeky grin he usually has.

“I could get used to this!” Mickbell sighs, nuzzling into your lap as he makes himself comfortable. Kuro is watching the waves, sitting beside you as the sun begins to fade from the horizon.

“I would’ve thought you’d be ready to go home a lot sooner.” You teased him, brushing his messy bangs out of his face. Scoffing, he made sure you saw as he rolled his eyes.

“If I didn’t have you and Kuro, maybe… But this is something we’ll have to do again. Right, Kuro?” The Kobold nodded, causing a warm grin to spread on your face. He was certainly right about that.

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆��� *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[fafnir19]

Genie's lamp - Part VII

Movie Romance

The afternoon sun spilled through the living room window, catching the dust motes dancing in the air. Lex was miles away, studying abroad, leaving Jafar alone in the spacious villa. He lounged on the couch, his dark hair tousled, a smirk playing on his lips as he flicked through channels, searching for something entertaining. The faint sound of cheers and shouts came from the living room, where Lex's friends, Thomas and Finn, were gathered around the vast flat-screen TV, their faces glued to the soccer match.

“Goal!” Finn shouted, throwing his hands up in celebration. “Did you see that shot?” Jafar rolled his eyes, the sound of their laughter grating on his nerves. “Ugh, what a bunch of commoners,” he muttered to himself. He stood, stretching his arms, and walked toward the source of the noise. “Hey, Jafar!” Thomas called out, his voice dripping with mockery. “Come watch the real sport with us!” “Yeah, come on! It’s a classic match!” Finn added, oblivious to Jafar’s disdain. They were dressed in their soccer jerseys, exuding an air of youthful exuberance that Jafar found utterly dull. “Why waste your time on that?” Jafar said, a sly grin creeping across his face. “There’s a far more captivating show on right now. Just look at the romance unfolding on Channel Seven. It’s so… enchanting.” “Romance? Pfft, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard,” Thomas scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s all so unrealistic. Who actually wears those preppy clothes and eats at fancy restaurants?” Finn laughed, adding, “Yeah, who cares about that mushy stuff? Give me soccer any day.” Jafar’s jaw tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Enough!” Jafar snapped, a surge of dark energy swirling around him. The room seemed to darken as smoke began to rise from his fingertips. Before either of them could react, they were pulled into the screen with a loud *whoosh*.

Thomas and Finn's eyes widened in shock as they realized they were no longer in Lex's villa. They were standing on a sun-drenched patio, surrounded by lush greenery and the sparkling blue waters of the Gulf of Naples. The familiar soccer jerseys they had been wearing were now replaced with preppy, tight-fitting pants and unbuttoned shirts.

"What... what just happened?" Finn stammered, his eyes darting around in confusion. Jafar, still sitting in the living room in font of the TV with the remote control in his hand and smirked. "Welcome to your new reality, gentlemen. You are now characters in my favorite romance series," Jafar's voice boomed and seemed to be everywhere. "What?! No way!" Thomas exclaimed, his face reddening with anger. "Change it back, Jafar! This isn't funny!" Jafar just laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed off the surrounding cliffs. As the implications of Jafar's words sank in, Thomas and Finn exchanged nervous glances, their hearts pounding. They had no idea how to escape this magical predicament, and as the days passed, they found themselves settling into their new roles. They donned preppy clothes, attended elegant dinners, and even found themselves engaging in witty repartee, quoting classic literature to fit in with their new surroundings. Unbeknownst to them, Jafar watched their every move with growing delight.

Jafar leaned back, the remote control in his hand, and a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.  On the vast flat-screen TV, Finn and Thomas's were now the leading men of a romantic drama, set against the breathtaking backdrop of Capri. The genie, usually so cruel and malevolent, had taken delight in romance series. The two young men, once casual and sporty, now embodied the refined elegance of the romance series characters. As the scene unfolded, Finn and Thomas strolled along the waterfront, their bodies language relaxed and comfortable in their new personas. They stopped to admire the view, the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. "Thomas, it's breathtaking," Finn said, his voice filled with wonder as he gazed out over the Gulf of Naples. "Indeed, it is, my friend. A true masterpiece of nature." Thomas replied, placing a hand on Finn's shoulder, their friendship now infused with a subtle undercurrent of something more.

As the camera panned to a luxurious bedroom overlooking the sparkling waters of the Gulf of Naples, soft music filled the air. Finn and Thomas entered the frame. Their eyes locked, they moved closer and their lips meeting in a fiery kiss. And so their bro-mance was becoming a full-blown romance, and Jafar couldn't be more entertained. "This is better than I could have imagined," Jafar whispered to himself, a satisfied smile on his lips as he observed their deepening connection.

Their hands explored each other's bodies, fingers tracing the contours of their newfound preppy attire. Finn's heart raced as he felt Thomas's strong hands on his waist, pulling him closer. "Ah, young love," Jafar purred, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he watched them kiss passionately on the screen. "So tender and innocent... for now. But let's see how far we can push this, shall we?" With a flick of the remote, the channel changed, and the soft, sensual music of the romance channel was replaced by the throbbing, rhythmic beat of a porn film.

The change in atmosphere was immediate, the camera angles becoming more intimate, the lighting more suggestive. Their kisses became more urgent, their exploration more daring. Finn felt Thomas's hand on his back, slowly inching downwards. Thomas's hand continued its descent, and Thomas's fingers traced the crease of his ass, sending shivers of anticipation through his body. Without warning, he pushed Finn onto the bed trailing kisses down Finn's chest, while he was undressing him. Thomas gently caressed Finn's inner thighs, spreading his legs slightly. "Relax, Finn," Thomas whispered, his hot breath tickling Finn's skin. "Let me show you how good it can be." Finn surrendered to Thomas's touch, a sharp contrast to his usual assertive nature on the soccer field. Finn moaned softly as he felt Thomas's tongue trace patterns on his skin, slowly moving closer to his most sensitive area.

The camera zoomed in, capturing the moment Thomas's wet tongue made contact with Finn's most sensitive area. Without warning, he lowered his head and licked Finn's ass. Finn arched his back, his body responding despite his mind reeling in confusion. . "Thomas... what are you... oh god!" he cried out, his hands gripping the bedsheets as Thomas's tongue penetrated him, stimulating nerves he never knew existed. Thomas smiled against Finn's skin, his hand tightening on Finn's thigh as he delved deeper, his tongue teasing and exploring. "Ohhh..." Finn moaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. The sensation of Thomas's wet tongue probing his most intimate crease was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could feel his cock throbbing in response, hardening with each swipe of Thomas's skilled tongue. Jafar licked his lips, his eyes glued to the screen. "Yes, Thomas, taste him. Make him yours." Thomas delved deeper, his tongue probing and circling Finn's tight hole. Finn squirmed, his breath coming in short gasps as sensations he never knew existed coursed through his body. "Ahh... Thomas... I—" Finn's words turned into a sharp intake of breath as Thomas's tongue pushed deeper, claiming him completely. With each lick and caress, Thomas asserted his dominance. He knew Finn was his to conquer, and he relished the power he held. Jafar's eyes widened with delight as he watched the scene unfold. "Yes, Thomas, show him what it means to be a true lover!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with anticipation. Finally, Thomas pulled away, a string of saliva connecting him to Finn's ass.

Thomas positioned himself above Finn, their eyes locking again. Finn's hands gripped Thomas's arms, his fingers digging into the muscle as he felt Thomas's strength. "Yes... Feel it, Finn," Jafar whispered, his voice hoarse with anticipation. "Feel his power." Thomas's throbbing member pressed against Finn's entrance, and with a slow, forceful thrust, he entered Finn. A sharp gasp escaped Finn's lips, his back arching slightly as he adjusted to the sensation. Thomas didn't hesitate, his hips moving in a steady rhythm, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. "Oh... God..." Finn's voice was a mixture of pleasure and surprise as he felt himself being overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through his body. He tightened his grip on Thomas's arms, his fingers leaving indentations in the hard muscle. "That's it, Finn Jafar hissed, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Feel him inside you. Let go of your control. Become the bottom you're meant to be." With each thrust, Finn's breath came in sharp gasps, his body moving in time with Thomas's. The camera captured every detail, the slick sounds of their bodies filling the room. "Feel my strength," Thomas grunted, his muscles flexing as he pounded into Finn. Finn could do nothing but submit to Thomas' dominance. The bed creaked with each powerful thrust, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. "That's it, take it!" Thomas growled, his eyes fixed on Finn's face, watching for any sign of pleasure or pain. Finn's body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure. He could feel his own cock, hard and leaking, as Thomas' thrusts became faster and more urgent. "Oh god, I'm gonna—" Finn's words were cut off as his body tensed, his release rushing through him. With a cry, he spilled himself, his body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. "Yes... That's my good little bottom," Jafar whispered amused, his voice thick with satisfaction. "No more girls for you, Finn." Thomas let out a satisfied growl as he felt Finn's ass clench around him. With a few more sharp thrusts, he reached his own climax, crying out as he filled Finn with his release. Collapsing onto Finn's sweat-glistened body, Thomas panted, his weight pressing them both into the mattress. "That was..." he began, but words failed him. Finn, his body spent and sated, simply nodded, his eyes closed, a satisfied smile on his face.

Jafar's satisfaction knew no bounds, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight, as he watched the two men on the screen. He had done it. Finn and Thomas had fully embraced their new identities, and their once boring buddy dynamic had been transformed into something far more intriguing. Finn, the once straight soccer jock, was now a gay bottom, and Thomas, his dominant lover, a bisexual top. "Perfect," Jafar whispered, his eyes glinting with dark pleasure. "Their relationship will never be boring again. Welcome to your new lives," Jafar chuckled, his eyes glinting with malicious delight. "May they be everything you never knew you wanted."

Jafar's finger snapped, and with a flash of light, Finn and Thomas reappeared in the living room. The room seemed to shimmer around them as they materialized, solidifying into elegant forms. The two friends stood there, stunned, their eyes widening as they took in their new appearances. Gone were the casual soccer jerseys and sweaty sports gear. Instead, they were clad in tight white suits, the fabric hugging their athletic builds, and black lace shirts that accentuated their newly transformed personas. Their hair, once messy from the game, now framed their faces in stylish cuts.

"Welcome back, gentlemen," Jafar purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "How do you feel?" Finn and Thomas exchanged a glance, their faces reflecting a mixture of confusion and newfound sophistication. Finn straightened his posture, unconsciously quoting a line from one of the romance novels, "As if I've awakened from a dream, and yet, I feel more alive than ever." Thomas nodded in agreement, a slight haughtiness creeping into his tone, "Indeed. It's as though we've been enlightened to a world beyond the mundane." He adjusted his cufflinks, a new nervous habit of him. Jafar chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that filled the room. "I'm glad to see you've embraced your new identities. Tell me, Finn, how do you feel about your newfound... preferences?" Finn blushed, a pink hue spreading across his cheeks, but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. "It's... intriguing. I never imagined myself as... gay or even a bottom. But now, I can't deny the appeal." He shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor, unsure of how to process this sudden shift in his desires. Thomas placed a reassuring hand on Finn's shoulder, a confident smile playing on his lips. "It suits you, my friend. And as for me, well, I find myself quite enjoying the role of a bisexual top." He flashed a mischievous grin at Jafar, as if challenging him to disagree. "Wonderful," Jafar purred, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "I'm thrilled that you've both found your true selves. And I must say, the dynamic between you has certainly improved. No longer are you boring, straight jocks. Now, you are intriguing, cultured young men." Finn and Thomas shared a hesitant smile, still adjusting to their new personas. Jafar flattered, "You two are perfect! Lex will be thrilled to have such refined companions." "Lex?" Thomas queried, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching. "Ah, yes, our dear friend. We must catch him up on all our recent...enlightenments." Finn smirked, a flash of the old mischief in his eyes. "Absolutely. Though I daresay he might not recognize us in our new incarnations." "Nonsense," Jafar said, waving a dismissive hand. "He'll adore you even more now. Your transformation is complete, and you are now the epitome of cultured, pretentious bisexual or completely gay dandies." "Bisexual dandies?" Thomas repeated, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I rather like the sound of that." The three shared a laugh, their voices echoing in the spacious living room. Jafar's laughter held a note of triumph as he reveled in the success of his manipulation. The once-common soccer players were now forever changed, molded into the perfect companions for Lex, with a touch of arrogance that would ensure their loyalty to Jafar. The genie's eyes glinted with a dangerous mix of cruelty and satisfaction as he reveled in his successful manipulation. Little did they know that Jafar was plotting far more than just their transformation. He intended to make Finn his pleasure boy, and with each passing moment, his plan unfolded, ensuring their obedience and his own sinister pleasure. "Now, my dear friends," Jafar continued, his voice like silk, "let us discuss the many pleasures and privileges your new lives have to offer." And as Jafar led them deeper into the world of decadence and dark desires, Finn and Thomas had no idea of the true extent of their transformation or the role they would play in Jafar's grand scheme.

[teddy-boar]

Huskerdust, and general Husk and Angel headcanons that no one asked for (slightly NSFW):

Husk never learned how to cook, while Angel learned from his Nonna and aunties even though 'boys shouldn't be in the kitchen'. He makes amazing Italian food and would teach Husk his family's recipes. They have cute cooking date from time to time.

Angel is ridiculously swooned whenever Husk does any gentlemanly thing for him, like walking closer to the road while they stroll down the sidewalk together, or opening doors for him, or cupping a hand at the edge of the table whenever he ducked down so he wouldn't hit his head. Husk doesn't even realize he's doing it, it's just engrained in him to be protective and considerate towards his loved ones. Angel, on the other hand, has never had anyone treating him with such care before.

Husk used to play the piano in his jazz band way back when, but he stopped after the grief of his child dying consumed him. Now he only touches a piano whenever he's really drunk and depressed, whenever he misses his wife and kids. He shares stories about them with Angel sometimes and Angel comforts him, feeling very honored that Husk is comfortable enough to share such intimate parts of his past with him.

Angel is amazing at baseball. He used to play with the kids on his block, even with his faulty eye, he could bat better than most, and he's a fast runner. It's also coincidentally Husk's favorite sport to watch, so he is more than happy to cheer for Angel as he kicks ass.

Husk teaches Angel how to cheat at card games and Angel picks it up incredibly quickly, deft fingers and all. He is regretting it now as he sits buck ass naked in a game of strip poker while Angel is fully clothed.

Husk's the kind of guy to say he hates pets, but then would be the one to dote on them and spoil them the most. So when Angel forces him to babysit Fat Nuggets, he is reluctant at first, and yet, soon comes to adore the piggy and would protect him with his life.

Husk never learned how to swim. Charlie drags them all to the beach once and the man just sits on the shore, refusing to get close to the water. Angel tries to coax him in to teach him. In the end, they end up with a drenched and very grumpy cat who still has not learned to swim.

(🚨NSFW🚨)They have never finished a single game of pools together, because somehow, with all the egging each other on and teasingly bending over the table and the sexual tension, they always end up fucking on the table. Many 'pot your balls in my hole' jokes have been uttered.

Angel is scared of heights. First time Husk takes him flying, he's freaking out and clutching to the man like a vice. But the freedom and the grandeur from up above are breathtaking and slowly he gets over his phobia through sheer exposure. Plus, he knows Husk will never drop him.

[bridenore]

Author rec : moonflower_rose

Moonflower_rose is one of my favorite authors. Here are a few recs, listed in alphabetical order.

Beneath the Wave by @moonflower-rose [30k]

Harry is done with a life in the spotlight. No more adventures, no more mortal peril. He wants a quiet life of food and friends, and family. He even manages to have it for a while, until suddenly there are giant rabbits that need ferrying to a mysterious island, and a handsome Draco Malfoy, and Harry’s right back in the middle of the action again, despite his best efforts.

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose​ [8k]

Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

Nothing But You On My Mind by @moonflower-rose [29k]

Potter has been in Australia on an internship for almost a year, and Draco cannot wait for him to get back home. They’ll finally have a chance to talk about their feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? Loads, as it turns out.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by @moonflower-rose [40k]

One summer evening, Harry Potter vanished in the middle of dinner with his friends. Four days later he came back. Sort of. Draco Malfoy is on the case.

Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose [12k]

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that. Hoppípolla by @moonflower-rose [20k] Falling in love was as easy as jumping in puddles, and Draco Malfoy was completely drenched.

Snug by @moonflower-rose [6k]

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

Toy Story by @moonflower-rose [40k] *Incomplete

A politician, a cursed dildo, and a minor workplace accident. All in a day’s work for one Harry Potter.

Watch The Castles Burn by @moonflower-rose [21k]

Draco Malfoy knows better than to get involved with Harry Potter. If only someone would have reminded him of that six months sooner, then maybe he wouldn’t be in quite such a large mess.

The World of Management (Or, Harry Potter and the Office Romance) by @moonflower-rose [15k]

Draco Malfoy is the heart and soul of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. The only thing standing in the way of professional bliss is his boss. And Harry Potter.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[angstylittleb1tch]

Rain, Rain go away

Tasm!Peter Parker Imagine

Am I magically respawning after so long of being dead? No.......absolutely yes. Anyways here's a random Tasm!Peter Parker Imagine I had cooked up in my notes for a while, hope you guys like it, byeeee.

Peter parker hates the way rain ruins everything.

He hates how cold and sticky he feels when it rains. How the benches in his favorite park get wet and dirty. How he accidentally steps in multiple puddles of water while rushing to college. How his clothes get drenched running home when he forgets to bring an umbrella to the lab on unfortunate rainy days. How he has to wash his hair 3 times to get rid of the icky feeling rain leaves behind.

He hates how crimes rates always start to spike up in his neighborhood during the rainy days. He loathes having to sit in his bathroom and wash his now dirty AND wet spider suit. He hates how his heater magically breaks down everytime its raining leaving him freezing and irritated.

He absolutely despises the cold he catches everytime it rains because all the bad guys in town have made a pact to gang up on him in the middle of an intense rain shower when all he wants is to go home and sleep until he dies. He hates how cold his hands and feet become by the time he gets home and how it doesn't seem to go away.

Peter groans on and on about hating getting sick, sneezing everywhere and having a slight fever barely a day before huge projects that somehow always make up 60% of his grade. Even though he completely aces them dispite having a terrible fever the next day.

He hates the melancholy atmosphere and the patter of raindrops on his window keeping him awake most nights. He hates the smell of the earth mixing in with his morning coffee. It leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

All in all, Peter parker hates the rain, yes. But he can't help the grin on his face when he finds you pulling him in to dance in the middle of the raining street with pure and un- adulterated love in your eyes. He absolutely loves the way you laugh and smile at him, your hands wrapped tight behind his neck and his on your waist, gently pulling you in. He adores the little blush you sport when he leans down to smother your face in light kisses as the rain falls coloring you both in its various shades. He loves watching your heart melt at the small 'I love you's' that spill out of his mouth as he spins you around blissfully unaware of the rain.

Because Peter loves the rain if it means he gets to hold you through it all and kiss you breathless till he forgets he ever hated it in the first place.

[nyctophiliq]

COLLEGE HAREM AU feat. ekko, vi, sevika, finn

please be aware that every character is over the age of eighteen in this au and there will be sexual themes across the whole au- minors do not interact.

content warning. lowercase writing intended, sub ! afab ! reader, dom ! characters, oral sex, blow job, cunnilingus, dub-con/non-con elements,

EKKO, president of the IT club

ekko can be found at three places during the day- library, IT class, or his dorm room. his head is always buried in his screen, headphones on his ears listening to whatever kind of music he was in the mood for while coding his next game, app, or just improving the college's website with little tweaks here and there, maybe sending out maintenance emails to students about the school emails shutting down for the afternoon. he often gets frustrated that his codes don't work out the first time, or that whatever he was trying to improve turned out worse than before. at times like those, he likes to have you under his desk, pants pulled down under his balls with your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock, helping him relax and clear his mind.

"you have to swallow all of it, we wouldn't want my cum wasted on my pants or laptop, would we?"

VI, president of the wrestling club

despite being in one of the most aggressive sports out of all the choices in the school, vi is somewhat of a quiet student, only speaking if needed or when frustration gets the best of her. she is often at the campus patrol office to listen to caitlyn's whining about one of her club members beat up a student on campus and now sevika is gonna be involved. she would head right back to the training room to empty her head, trying her best to cross ways with you and when she finally does the whole wrestling gym will be cleared for only the two of you. she clicked the sliding door shut before pushing you on the pile of mattresses and immediately hiked your skirt up, fingers hooking under your panties and pushing them inside without any foreplay. she was very forward with her desires, and she would not settle for any less than her tongue dwelling in your drenched core.

"i wanna hear you sweet cake, loud and clear, don't worry about anyone else okay? just focus on me, only me."

SEVIKA, president of the beautification council

despite being one of the biggest troublemakers on campus, sevika has scored herself a high place in the school hierarchy, all thanks to silco who was one of the biggest financial supporters of the school. she enjoys the power she had been given, always threatening the students by putting them in front of the council for this and that- you weren't an exception. she walked with you, leading you into a trap as she went on and on about what you were gonna be held accountable for. sevika gives you a few options for not getting a 'black dot' in your permanent record before pushing you up against the inside of the council room's door and giving you her favorite option- eating her out. don't worry, it will be the secret of the two of you! do this for her and it's swept under the rug. so you do, kneeling down in front of her after she undid her pants, pushing your face as far into her crying cunt as you can, and start eating her out.

"fuck doll, you are not as innocent as i thought, you are eating me so well!"

FINN, vice-president of the beautification council

despite his somewhat scary pierced, tattoed face, body, and deep, accented voice he is a kind of decent person. he goes after sevika with the whole power trip of taking somewhat advantage of his status. first meeting with him was when he and sevika were passing balls between themselves with the different 'charges' they came up with. finn made little of it and thought his president was messing with you like every other student until he saw you in the council room with his president, lapping at her core eagerly. he is so pent up about it that the next day he pulled into the council room once again, sitting in the chair sevika sat in, and have you sitting on his lap. his fingers rub along your folds as he whispers how frustrating it is that you were with 'her', pleasing 'her'. he is just so jealous of sevika having you first that he can't help but tease you until you are crying, begging him to put his fingers inside and let you come.

"sevika is a tease don't worry about her, I'll make sure she doesn't bother you anymore. she can't make you feel this good, i am the only one, okay? nobdy else, just me, finn."

[cellu-lightreading]

Day 9- Euphoria

Your young years are supposed to be filled with self-destructive decisions, at least that’s what TV tells me. I don’t think that they imagined what my friends are doing. I mean, I guess it’s a little cliché. Lots of kids move out of their parents’ house as soon as they possibly can to do all the stuff their parents didn’t approve of. Lots of kids move in with their friends thinking it will be the best time ever. A staggering amount of young people use how hot they are to make money online. I guess the difference is most of them are not over 500 pounds trying to concoct ways to get fatter.

I’m not sure it’s fair to say we’re like most other gainers either. After all, most gainers would hit 500 and wonder if they’re getting too big to function in human society. The question becomes: how do you support yourself?

“We don’t. That’s what the internet is for.” Robin was the pragmatic one who was good at planning. As a teen, he disguised his interest in gaining in sports.  He joined the football team and let the coach demand that he eat big and grow big. The whole time he knew that when he quit sports that his newly expanded appetite wouldn’t stop, but all the muscle he had gained would dissolve into fat. Now he’s so big that his old jersey wouldn’t even be able to cover the giant shelf of moobs that sit on top of his belly, but he is an absolute beast at eating contests.

Robin suggested turning our apartment into the perfect fantasy for feeders, chasers, and encouragers to watch. One glutton willing to show off every stretchmark of their six-foot wide belly already drives them wild, imagine four.

It all goes just as he said when we get our first viral clip. The four of us moving around on a bed frame turned the poor thing into tiny pieces of scrap metal in the middle of a stuffing. The sound of creaking things is practically ambient noise in a house where nothing is built to withstand the weight of even one of us. Why stop eating for that? We were enjoying  ourselves with bucket after bucket of fried chicken and fries. It was already so fattening that grease would drip down our fingers and mouths, then we had the nerve to start dipping the food in vats of cheese and gravy.

This was really Davie’s idea. He was a fat kid, so he’s been experimenting with the most pleasurable and wildest combinations of food for years. Finishing off a pint of ice cream by eating it with a couple stacks of McDonald’s pancakes? That’s normal for Davie. It’s also why his blood sugar levels are obscenely high. He doesn’t even care ever since he found out he can use insulin and turn all his worst fattening instincts to get even fatter. It’s his voice at the end of the clip, right after the bed collapses asking: “What are you guys thinking of for dessert?”

A house with four growing superchubs has certain logistical problems that have only gotten worse as we feed each other. All the walking required just to take out the trash makes it the least favorite chore in the house. But we’re also getting to the point where we need just to take care of ourselves. None of us can bend to the ground and tie our shoes. Even if we get most of our stuff delivered, someone has to be able to fit behind the wheel of the car- seatbelt extension or not.

“That’s where in person feeders come in.” Troy suggested. He’s the most conniving of the group. He literally wore his parents down until they gave up and enabled him through his teenage years. Now he’s 22 and considers a 5 minute walk an intense workout that should leave everyone out of breath and drenched in sweat like him. “Countless boys want to come experience the house. Let’s see who can really handle it. Encouragers will relish the chance to help you shower if you tell them it’s their opportunity to rub every square inch of your body and feel between your folds. They will jump at the chance to clean up if you tell them about how you made the mess by falling asleep after an hour long binge. If the price for a butler is that they call us fat ass pigs, which we already say to each other because it’s true, I think it’s worth it.”

That little tidbit is how we started getting other men in our house. The feeders would come do everything for us just as Troy wanted. Muscular men would come through the house and put down cinderblocks to reinforce the couch and clean the kitchen. The prices ended up being a little flexible. It could just be a tease here and there. Sometimes they did it to feel the folds of our belly on their head while they sucked our dicks. We would make videos with them and they would charm us completely.

The problems started when Robin and one of the feeders started getting really close. They were texting all the time and he was coming over a lot. Robbie had gotten attached, and it was evident to everyone but him. He did everything but make Pinterest boards for the wedding. The feeder wasn’t nearly as interested; he was just looking to live out some fantasies.

So it didn’t mean anything to him when Robin was gone but Troy answered the door one afternoon. It didn’t mean anything to him that he fed Troy a buffet of McDonald’s. It didn’t mean anything to him when Troy kissed him and seduced him and fucked him. It didn’t mean anything to him that they did every day of the rest of that week. But it meant something to Robin.

When Robin saw that Troy had uploaded a video of the two of them to his page, he was distraught. He chewed out Troy who could only defend himself by saying that the feeder didn’t think they were exclusive. He had a hard and heartbreaking conversation with the feeder who never once thought about how he would hurt Robin. Lastly, he came to me with a gallon jug of ice cream and a tote bag of toppings to cry on my shoulders.

The hard parts of life were fully my domain in the house. I couldn’t start trying to gain until I could support those dreams myself. At 16, I got a job at fast food chicken place and spent my checks and my late nights in high school and college munching on all the greasy food I could handle at once. The more time I had to work, the more money I had in my bank account, the more I was eating. The boys had appointed me the dad friend, and I was the one up late at night mindlessly eating a pie and paying bills with sticky fingers. I was the one who balanced the house’s budget in the morning and relaxed with a beer at night.

When boys start acting like teenagers, you need an adult to step in. I consoled Robin until the early morning, letting him eat his feelings until he fell asleep in my bed. I shook Troy down until he felt some remorse and apologized. When it was all over, Davie brought me a small bowl of ice cream, wrapped his arms around me and said,

“You wouldn’t last an hour in the drama of a Euphoria episode, but you’re a good enough friend that we never worry about that stuff.”

[mollywog]

Apparently I’m deep in my HS feels (don’t ask me why, I didn’t particularly enjoy it while it was happening.) Ao3 link

There’s something special about high school football. Not the games themselves, it’s been decades since District 12 was a real contender. Their biggest rivalry is the neighboring school, and even that has 50/50 odds of Victory. Still, Friday night games are a right of passage.

The sun sets early but the lights are bright. The temperature drops and the whole town bundles up against the fall chill and flocks to the stadium. The concession stand sells hot chocolate and orange cheese drenched chips and fries, that warmth hands and burn tongues. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, as old as the sport itself, bicker over the intercom, drowned out only by the band who plays and replays the same dozen riffs from their perch in the stands.

Peeta and his friends station themselves at the 20 yard line, keeping track of the game while scoping out the passersby. Delly and a handful of her friends are the latest momentary additions to his group, checking in between completing social laps of the field.

He looks into the bleachers and spots an unexpected face in the first row. Her brow furrowed, she sits next to Gale Hawthorne, his motions animated as he gestures at the field and she nods along. As if feeling his stare, she shifts her gaze and their eyes briefly meet before flitting away. He turns back to his friends to find Delly watching him with a knowing smile: it’s not the first time she’s caught him pining over Katniss Everdeen and it won’t be the last.

Robin, a girl he knows vaguely from the next town over, slides up beside him and begins in on the monotonous Senior year questionnaire; his plans for next year, where he’ll go, what he’ll study, will he continue to wrestle? He recites his trite responses dutifully. He hates it. His favorite part of these nights is living completely in the smell of turf and the sound of his friends' laughter, not worrying about what’s next. He thinks about childhood when there wasn’t a script, only questions about favorite colors or dinosaurs. He considers asking Robin her thoughts on the dilapasaur but thinks better of it; he’s not afraid of sounding dorky, but doesn’t want to risk inadvertently encouraging her. As they speak, she gets closer, turning herself towards him, closing them off, batting her eyes, tittering, touching his arm. He knows the game, but has no intentions of playing, so he maintains his distance, answers politely, and tries to include others in his responses.

He looks up in the stands again, spotting Katniss easily now that he knows where to find her. She’s hunched over, elbows on her knees, glaring at the field. The game must be unpleasant -that’s not a surprise.

His inattentiveness does not go unnoticed and Robin eventually turns her queries towards Reese, a more receptive companion.

He lets out a small sigh of relief at his reprieve, but this time when he glances back into the stands, Katniss is no longer there. He excuses himself from the group and heads toward the bathrooms, at the last minute slipping under the bleachers instead. They get a bad rep, but he’s never actually seen anyone doing drugs, or murdering, or having sex down here. It’s actually kind of nice. The people above dampen the sound from the intercom and the lights are obscured to just the right level. He moves to the furthest corner behind a cement piling, out of sight of other bleacher dwellers. Down here alone, it’s like his own private den.

He’s watching the field through the slats of the stands when small arms encircle his waist from behind. For a moment he stiffens before the scent of Katniss’s piney shampoo invades his nostrils, he relaxes into her embrace, “You found me.” He’d hoped she would.

“You’re easy prey. Didn’t even try to cover your tracks. Almost as if you wanted to be caught,” she says, nuzzling her face between his shoulder blades.

He turns, shifting them so they're facing each other, “So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes, but yanks at the front of his sweater. He bends to meet her. The novelty of kissing her still hasn’t worn off; he hopes it never will. After a minute, he pulls away, “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Are you disappointed?” She scowls up at him.

“Not even a little,” he leans down to kiss the crease between her eyes. Unbidden, his mind wanders to the handsome boy beside her in the stands, “What changed your mind?”

“Prim wanted to come and I thought I should keep an eye on her. I’ve heard what happens at these games.” She pinches his waist playfully, “About boys who lure girls under the bleachers for a bit of debauchery.”

“So did you come down here to look for Prim or was my charm too much temptation to resist?”

She slides her hands into his back pockets and gives a little shrug, averting her eyes, “were you looking to lure me?”

He can see through her playful facade, her question’s in earnest. They’d discussed keeping things between them quiet for a while. In truth he would have agreed to just about anything to not scare her away. But he knew as long as they were a secret, this thing that they had, whatever it was, had a shelf life. He thinks of Robin’s display and Katniss’s scowl. Maybe he isn’t the only one with insecurities.

He lifts her chin to look her in the eyes, “only you.” He kisses her again, briefly this time before pulling away, “what’s your favorite color?”

She laughs, “what?”

“Your favorite color. I want to know.” He wants to know everything and not just her future plans.

“Green.”

Of course it is. Nothing could be more fitting for her.

“And yours?”

“Orange.”

She wrinkles her nose.

“It’s not whatever you’re thinking, more muted, like the sunset.”

She hums her approval before their lips meet again. He decides he can save his dinosaur questions for another day.

[lunarfleur]

Don’t Touch Our Goalie ~ Dean Portman and Fulton Reed

Tagging: @collieflower215 @juneberrie @whyareyouhere66 @sluggmuffin

Warnings:Fighting, cursing.

Summary: Dean and Fulton will never tolerate someone laying their hands on their favorite goalie

This is x male! Reader!

Hockey was an aggressive sport. You knew that. Hockey players could be aggressive. You knew that, too. Hockey could be unfair. You knew that better than anything else about the sport.

It was one single save that set him off. You were a good goalie, there wasn’t anything that could make you believe otherwise. But, sometimes, even after the whistle gets blown, players can act as if they have unfinished business.

The player from the other team had heard the whistle, the one that marked the end of the game, but he approached you anyway. He cursed and yelled at you. You stood up straight, puffing out your chest like Dean told you to-make yourself look bigger. But he put his hands on you anyway, grabbing you by the cloth of your jersey and sending you skidding back into your own goal. You heard-and felt-the clang of the metal against your helmet. A dull ache started in your shoulder, and you knew there was gonna be a bruise.

You felt a strong hand grab your arm, and there crouched Fulton. You hadn’t even noticed he and Dean had skated up. Both teams went quiet on the ice, watching the way Dean got into his face.

“Are you okay?” Fulton asked, soft as ever. He had taken his helmet off. His hair was drenched with sweat, his face bright red and glistening. Nodding, you let him pull you off the ice. He grabbed your helmet, gently pulling it off your head.

You hadn’t heard Dean use such inappropriate language on the ice in a long time. But that was the effect you had on him.

“Who the fuck do you think you, are anyway?” Your boyfriend barked. His voice was getting higher and higher every second, the way it did whenever he was angry. It didn’t take away his intimidating demeanor.

Dean gave him a shove, and the player backed into Fulton’s chest. Fulton still had a grip on your arm, he seemed content to never let go.

“Don’t touch our goalie,” Fulton scoffed. That was enough to get him to back off.

The way Fulton said it, “our goalie,” made it obvious who he was talking about. It wasn’t “our” as the team’s goalie, it was “our” as in their’s. You were their goalie: Fulton and Dean’s.

Fulton let go of your arm and it fell down to your side. Dean looked at you, eyebrow raised, before smiling brightly. You smiled back.

“Thanks, sunshine.” You winked playfully and basked in the way the both chuckled. You intertwined your fingers with Fulton’s and grabbed ahold of Dean’s wrist, leading them both off the ice.

The team was already in the locker room when you got in there.

“Everything okay?” Adam asked hesitantly. Fights during the game were totally normal, but none of them had ever seen Coach’s reaction to one afterwards.

“Yeah, fine,” Portman shrugged. Your locker sat directly in between Dean’s and Fulton’s, across from Ken’s.

You pulled off your jersey and pads and everything else that wasn’t necessary. You craned your body to look at your shoulder in the mirror, barely seeing the bright red mark that sat against the skin.

Dean grabbed your shoulder, a cocky grin on his face while she dug his fingers into the spot.

“That hurt?” He asked. You winced. It did.

“That’s gonna leave one hell of a mark,” Fulton told you, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth. Dean, from behind you, pulled you against his chest. He kissed the top of your shoulder densely.

“Well, if he’s gonna be dating both of the Bash Brothers, he has to be able to handle a small bruise.”

“Dean, it’s the size of my hand,” you scoffed, prying away from his arms to run into Fulton’s. You pouted playfully, digging your face into Fulton’s shirt.

“You have small hands,” Portman shrugged jokingly.

Dean leaned in close to you, face inches away from yours, before he straightened back up and kissed Fulton’s cheek. He grinned, backing up and walking away.

“See you, I love you both,” he called, exiting the locker room.

You pouted for real this time, looking up at Fulton. He laughed at you, ignoring the groans of the rest your teammates, and grabbed the sides of your face sweetly. Every game ended like this.

“Don’t cry,” Fulton chuckled, “I can give you all the kisses you want.”

[a-swiss-and-a-spaniard]

Five comfort characters

Thanks for the tag, @yoellglia ! Here’s a list of characters that I’m way too attached to (probably bc I can relate to them in one way or another) and love very, very much. In no particular order we have:

Neal Caffrey (White Collar): He’s an artist! Okay, a con artist, but that only makes him more fun! I love when he drags everyone (this inculdes his bff, the whole FBI team and his boss’ wife and dog) into being a part of his shenanigans. He’s also one of the reasons I got into art (my love for Monet started with this show). And he always did a cute little trick with his fedora, which had me obsessed to the point I took a hat and practiced until I could do it. Though I don’t think that skill has stuck with me lol.

Will Graham (NBC Hannibal): He is heavily traumatized and spends a good part of the show haunted by nightmares, drenched in sweat and in need of a hug (and proper medical treatment). He loves fishing with a passion and has a tendency to collect stray dogs (and actually cares so much for them, which is sweet if you ask me). Also, his style goes from scruffy and adorable to neat and sexy and it shouldn’t be possible but he looks great in both.

Nick Nelson (Heartstopper): This boy is indeed a golden retriever. He’s probably the fluffiest character on this list and I basically would’ve loved to be him in my teens (this sounds like it was too long ago, but I’m just about to turn 23 lol). He loves sports, sucks at Mario Kart, has a dog called Nellie and the best part: I’m positive he gives some of the best hugs in the whole world. He’s also the best bisexual rep I’ve seen so far and I’m glad he exists.

Crowley (Good Omens): David Tennant is him, I can’t imagine anyone else playing this demon who’s been in love with an angel for over 6k years (they’ve seriously taken slow burn to a whole other level, but that’s another topic). I absolutely love how much the character plays with style. His snake tattoo is my favorite and his glasses are iconic (tho I must say I very much like his snake eyes). If I was to cosplay a character it would be him. There’s also something about the way he moves that’s so compelling to me. I love his mannerisms. He’s also a plant dad!!! And by now I’ve associated half of Queen’s discography with him and well, Queen is one of my favorite bands ever so yeah.

Sherlock Holmes (ACD Canon): I’m specifically talking about Sherlock from the original works/novels. He isn’t an egotistic, arrogant asshole that seemingly has no emotions or compassion for others. No, no, he’s actually just a nerdy, kind weirdo with too many feelings. Seriously, just read one of the many stories there are and you’ll see the difference. And before someone comes at me, I’m not hating on any adaptations here, I’m just stating my point of view and personal preference. Anyway, one of my favorite Sherlock moments is from The Musgrave Ritual. Sherlock was supposed to be tidying the apartment bc it was littered with his stuff, then Watson asked him about the contents of a wooden box and ofc it ended in story time. And well, I don’t know about you, but I find his getting distracted with old stuff while cleaning very relatable.

[keysorsomething]

Puppy Love / Heartbeats

I FINALLY GOT PRIDE INSPO HURRAYY !! Happy pride everyone have more of my self-insert in context-removed situations instead of actually writing the bigger story she's a part of !!

cross-posted on Ao3

Sara never thought of herself to be like this. She had never been so infatuated with anyone, ever. Not even the boys in the boy bands, or the actors in the movies.

The masquerade breaking was possibly the best thing that happened to her, not just because it meant she got some actual action for her local news blog, but also because it meant that she got to see the hunk in front of her.

He was almost something out of a horror movie, or war game. He wore the same helmets as the rest of the men and women, but he wore a mask that had the lunging muzzle of a dog on it that covered his lower face. She hadn’t gotten to talk to him, but she could tell he was important. While everyone else was addressed by seemingly normal names - save for the much older man who was clearly in charge of the bunch - this solder was only called by the name Cujo. The smallest amount of brown hair peaked out from under the helmet, and he moved in a way that was so unique compared to the others.

It was a kind of strut, a proud, “I own the place” attitude to moving about. Unironically, it was cat-like in nature. Perhaps, despite the fact that his face was obscured and she had never heard him talk, Sara was attracted to his personality. While a majority of the agents she saw had names or saying scrawled over their armor in white paint, Cujo was nearly drenched in them. His armor was more white than black - he had names and doodles and sayings all over everything. Even the white, puffy parts of the armor most members didn’t touch were covered in black paint, boasting creativity.

On his back, in bold letters, was her favorite: DOG AT WORK. PLEASE DO NOT PET.

Obviously a call back to his nickname, it was just so cutesy to Sara. Even if Cujo was rabid, he was still a cute dog.

And this Cujo was very cute to her.

Lucky for Sara, she had some very good intel. She had made friends with one of the girls her age she saw in the camp all of the time - Layla - and Layla had told her that they were going out to a sports bar that Friday.

That day. Sara fiddles nervously with the napkin, watching as people in those same black-and-white suits funnel in. She bites her lip, searching the crowd for that iconic mask.

She bets he has a deep, rough voice. That his chuckles were rumbles that would shake her very bones. That would change the rhythm of her heart. It had her heart pounding against the confines of her rib cage hard, even though he hadn’t come in yet.

Then, as if out of a movie, the doors swing open, and she sees that same strut, the writings and doodles of butterflies and eyes that she had memorized from more than a distance. But she doesn’t see the mask, or the helmet. Or the handsome young man with the rough voice who was hear to sweep her off her feat.

Instead, another girl stands there.

“Ay, Cujo!” One of the young men calls, and the girl - Cujo - beams, clasping his outstretched hand in hers. They bump into each other, and she has a warm smile on her face. One that Sara didn’t imagine would go with the name Cujo.

But still, her heart flutters and her face pinkens. Cujo was so pretty.

Sara stands, nearly stumbling over herself as she moves across the room, “Ah, Agent Cujo, is it?” She asks softly. The other girl turns to her, seemingly flustered at the sudden intrusion.

“Uh, ah, yeah!” She says. Her voice isn’t deep, nor is it rough. “The one and only! Unless you count the dog, of course,” She mutters the last part, letting her self-assured thumb fall from its place on the center of her chest. Sara giggles, and Cujo seems to light back up. She lets out a giggle of her own, nervously covering her face.

And the chuckle isn’t a deep rumble that Sara feels in her bones, but she feels her heart leap. She even swears her heart started beating all over again.

[starfall-spirit]

Renaissance Masterlist

If you were offline yesterday, read Chapter V first.

The chapter title was taken from a Gary Allen song. Spice will arrive in chapter 7, promise.

Word Count: 979

Chapter VI: Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

 The night could not be more of a mess. But if spiraling about her developing feelings wasn’t bad enough, then the sky had to open on them, an unexpected summer storm chasing them into the shelter of the villa. “Ugh, I’m drenched! Rhys, no!”

She squealed, bolting for the other side of the room as he grinned ear to ear, shaking his head to fling water in every direction. That grin held as he ran a hand down his face, shaking more water free of his hand. Her eyes inevitably dipped lower, assessing how his thin button-down clung to the toned muscles she’d ignored well enough before then.

He cleared his throat, a light in his eyes and a smug smirk betraying any offense or irritation her staring may have caused. Proud bastard. She blushed hotly, pointedly turning down the hall and muttering something about dry pajamas. Maybe if she hid in her room she could just pretend nothing happened today. That she wasn’t—

No. She thought she was in love once. Look how that turned out. Tamlin had won her over just as easily. Now she was dealing with him stalking her.

She knew Rhys was arrogant at worst. She knew she’d never have to worry for her safety at the end of all this, but was she really ready to dive into something with another man infamous for sweet talking? How fast was she going to get her heart broken if she gave in? His father had called because Rhys had a reputation, after all. A proper marriage was the one thing Josiah wouldn’t interfere with.This was a long con. A game. She couldn’t get swept away in all of this. She couldn’t afford to. Even if things just ended up being sexual… Well, friends with benefits didn’t work so well for her. 

She took a deep breath. She could just lock herself in her room tonight. Rhys could have his space and she could have hers. They’d start fresh in the morning, acting totally, completely, utterly platonic. Yes, that’s it.

She jumped at the knock on the door. “Hey, I made a late night snack if you care to join me.”

Dammit. She was a little hungry. 

Throwing one of Mor’s oversized tees over her sports bra, she opened the door, finding Rhys on his way back to the kitchen and living area, his plate in hand. He had appeared to towel his hair dry, changing into shorts and an old band shirt she remembered him stealing from Cassian a few weeks ago, after their annual beginning of summer water fight.

She spotted a second plate on the counter that consisted of dried fruit, chips they had packed, and Rhys’ favorite gummy worms, also smuggled in. She suppressed a laugh. “Thank you, Rhys. I’m honored, being dubbed worthy of sharing your gummy worms.”

“As you should be.” She snorted, turning around with every intention of returning to her room. “Movie?”

He’d be the death of her. Because she really, really hated telling people no after they were nice to her. Today had been more than nice, if a bit torturous towards the end. She nodded, curling up in the plush chair adjacent to his seat on the long couch. She turned towards the screen, surprised to find Casablanca of all things playing. It was hardly a film she’d think would interest him.

“This was produced in the forties.”

“Yes.”

“I never imagined you were a black and white type.”

“My tastes are eclectic,” he replied. “We have a handful of VCRs in that cabinet and Mom’s a sucker for the older movies. I took after her there.”

“So astronomy and old movies. Interesting.” 

She turned back to the screen, nibbling at an apricot as the opening cast came on screen. She could handle a movie. Just as she actually started to believe that, relaxing into the chair, the rolling thunder boomed, cracking down with a blast of lightning that rattled the powerlines and left the two of them in the dark. Her plate flew from her lap and she cursed.

“It’s just a little storm, Feyre.” She ignored that comment, scrambling to clean up her mess, only pausing when warm fingers closed around her wrist. “Leave that. C’mere.” He led her to the kitchen, opened the drawer beside the refrigerator, and grabbed a couple of flashlights out of it, clicking both of them on and offering her one. “Okay?”

She nodded, though she didn’t argue when his grip around her wrist slid down, his fingers once again laced through hers. “C’mere,” he repeated, pulling her to the couch he had been seated on, dismissing the mess on the floor in favor of soothing her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, very much aware of how her face was practically buried in his chest. “I can’t explain it. I’ve just always hated night storms. My sisters—When I was little and we were closer, I’d crawl in my sisters’ beds. Elain would sing to me sometimes. It wasn’t a problem when we… downsized.”

He hummed, making no comment on her phrasing. “Would you like me to sing something?” She raised her head, blinking as she comprehended the offer. Before she could deny it, a soft tenor melody was washing over her. It wasn’t lilting and soft as Elain often favored, but it was beautiful all the same. Deep, rich, soothing in its own somber note. Lulled by both the song and the vibrations of his chest, she wanted to memorize every word passing his lips. 

His voice hitched, and his song trailed to silence as she reached up to stroke the stubble at his jaw. “Thank you.”

And before she could convince herself to do something smart, she raised her hand to tangle her fingers in his silky hair, initiating a kiss she prayed she wouldn’t come to regret.

~~~~~

Sorry. Taglist fixed. Hope you enjoyed!

@goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @acotar-fanns

[coffee-n-some-cream]

girls!rasey pt. 2 - ella & leona

The next day had Ella sweat-drenched, sitting on the shiny metal bleachers as she watched Mika’s softball game. The sun turned the bleachers into a bunch of wide, flat frying pans, and Ella sighed as a trickle of sweat went down her back.

“She’s doing really well so far,” Leona said to their Dad, who didn’t understand the rules of any sports besides martial arts and spent all of Mika’s games asking questions, like “Oh! Was that good?” and “Why are they groaning? I thought that was good” and “Why is it called a softball? It looks pretty hard to me.”

“Good, good.” Dad’s smile was wide and prideful as he watched Mika standing on one of the bases, stretching her legs as the next batter stepped up.

Donna leaned toward Ella and said in a low voice, “Why are you wearing a hoodie? Aren’t you hot?”

Ella glanced at her sisters and saw that Leona was looking at them out of the corner of her eye, Donna’s question having gotten her attention. “No.”

“You sure?” Donna reached over and placed a gentle hand against Ella’s forehead. “You feel pretty hot, and you’re looking a little pink in the face…”

Ella batted her hand away. “I’m fine! I like it, okay?”

Donna gave her a very dry, very skeptical look, then shrugged and turned back to the game. “Alright. Have fun cooking yourself.”

Ella grumbled and ignored the way she could feel Leona’s eyes on her. She could dig around in her room for some spare bills and go buy some makeup from the drugstore with Casey later. She just needed to make it through this stupid game, and then through stupid lunch.

By the time the game ended she was miserable, grumpy, and the back of the hoodie was soaked with sweat. She only managed a smile for Mika as she tugged on her arm, chanting, “Did you see me, El? Did you see me? Did you see me?”

“I saw you, I saw you, you were great.”

Lunch was a celebratory summer cookout in their backyard with hotdogs, burgers, coleslaw, grilled corn, and Ella’s favorite, watermelon. She sat in a lawn chair in the shade of the house, letting the cool, pink juice dribble down her chin as she tore into her fourth slice. It was one of the only cold things on the menu, and she hated coleslaw. She watched Mika tossing a frisbee around with her softball team friends, baffled that the kid still had energy to run around in the scorching sun after playing a softball game, and sucked the last of the juice from the white flesh of the watermelon rind.

“Are you okay?”

Ella’s eyes must have gone into the back of her head with how hard she rolled them. “Yes, mom, I’m fine. Can you leave me alone?”

Leona glared down at her, hands on her hips. “What is wrong with you? I just asked if you were okay.” She glanced around at the rest of their family and guests. Donna was in her usual place at the grill, Dad was watching the kids play while crunching on a popsicle. “Also, you know I hate it when you call me that.”

Ella could see that her sister was trying to turn this into a conversation, so she got up and went over to the spigot on the side of the house, ignoring her. She turned it on, running water over her sticky hands and splashing some onto her face until the remnants of the watermelon juice were gone. When she shut the spigot off and turned, Leona was right in front of her, arms crossed and looking miffed.

“Ella.” She was using her serious voice.

“Leona,” Ella said back, mocking. “Go eat a hotdog and get off my case for once in your life, huh?” She pushed past her and walked into the house through the back door, letting it slam shut behind her. She heard the door open again a second later and groaned.

“Hang on,” Leona called after her, her footsteps following Ella at a march. When she caught up to her, she grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Get off!” Ella yanked her arm out of her sister’s grasp.

“You’re freaking me out!” Leona put her hands in the air, at a loss. “You’ve been sweating through that stupid hoodie all day even though it’s making you overheated and grumpy, and it just seems like you’re hiding something. And…” She examined the hoodie for a moment. “That’s not even yours. Is that Casey’s?”

Ella chose to believe that a blush did not bloom across her face at the mention of Casey’s name. “Leona, I cannot stress this enough. I’m fine. And the reason I’m wearing the stupid hoodie is, get this,” she moved a hand horizontally through the air, as if presenting something, “none of your business.”

She turned around to walk into her room so that she could slam the door in her sister’s face and wait out the rest of the cookout in sullen solitude. But Leona’s hand shot out the moment her back was turned and yanked the hood off her head.

Ella’s gut turned to ice. She whipped back around and gave her sister a ferocious look, so indignant at the fucking audacity of her that she forgot to put a hand over her neck. “Leona! What the fuck?”

Leona’s eyes looked over Ella’s face and head before pausing on the side of her neck. Ella slapped a hand over the hickey. Leona’s eyebrows rose.

“Is that–?”

“No.”

“Ella, have you been covering up a hickey all day?” Leona’s voice was pitched high with disbelief, and Ella shushed her desperately, glancing around to make sure no one else had wandered into the house.

“Will you shut up?” She paused and looked her sister in the eye, apprehensive and feeling a little bit sick. “Don’t you dare tell Dad.”

Leona frowned at her, face soft and thoughtful. “Did Casey do that?”

Ella looked away, breaths suddenly shallow. “‘Course not. I’m not…” She trailed off.

The silence between them sat undisturbed for a few moments. Leona watched her sister, and Ella watched a piece of lint that was clinging to the bathroom doorway.

Leona’s hand reached out and grasped her wrist. Ella glanced up to see Leona smiling at her gently. “C’mon.” She turned and started walking toward her room, tugging Ella along after her.

“Why?” Ella muttered tentatively, but allowed Leona to pull her into her room and guide her to the small vanity that Leona had found for cheap at a yard sale. Leona shut the door behind them, then pushed Ella a little so she plopped back into the vanity seat.

“You can’t just walk around in a hoodie for the rest of the day. You’re gonna pass out,” Leona said as she fished around in her vanity drawers, plastic makeup cases clacking together. “I bought a foundation last summer that I think might match your skin tone.”

Ella watched her dig through the drawers for a moment until she pulled out a warm, tan bottle. Then she selected a sponge and turned to Ella. “I’m gonna cover up the bruise, okay? You can watch in the mirror to see how I do it so you can do it yourself later.”

Ella stared at her. “You’re… gonna help me cover it up?” She squinted. “You’re not gonna tell Dad?”

Leona was frowning at her again. “No. Why would I tell Dad?”

A shrug, and a guilty glance at her feet. “Uh… I guess I kinda thought you were a snitch. About most stuff. Especially this kinda stuff.”

“Ella…” Leona sighed and turned the chair so Ella’s back was to her, but she could still see them both in the mirror. She blotted the foundation onto Ella’s neck and started to smooth it over the bruise. It really was a good match to her skin. “I only tell Dad things I think he needs to know. He doesn’t need to know that you’ve been making out with… with anyone. Doesn’t matter who.” She applied more foundation and worked it in. “I would only tell him about this if I thought you were in trouble, or if someone was hurting you.” She paused. “And you’re not in trouble, right? Casey isn’t hurting you?”

Ella’s lip curled. “Of course not.”

“Then I don’t need to tell Dad anything.” She resumed blending the makeup in. “I’m your sister, not your mom. I get not wanting adults to know everything. I keep secrets from Dad too, you know.”

Ella couldn’t hold in her laugh of surprise. “You?”

“Uh, yeah, and he knows it too. He just… trusts me not to keep anything serious from him.”

Ella watched her hand for a moment, watched the way she blended the foundation into her skin with smooth, circular motions. Then she glanced up at her sister’s face in the mirror. Her brow was furrowed with concentration, but her eyes kept glancing at the mirror to check on Ella.

“So you’re cool?”

Leona smiled. “Of course I’m cool. I’m the coolest.”

“No, I mean…” She swallowed. “Casey. You’re cool?”

“Well.” Leona pursed her lips. “She wouldn’t be my first choice. I mean, she’s been suspended how many times? And she rides that awful motorcycle to school, which I had better never catch you on. And she was caught spray painting the restrooms by the track field that one time–”

“Leo. I meant that she’s a girl.”

Leona stopped and looked at her in the mirror. “Oh.” She frowned and put a hand on Ella’s shoulder. “Of course. You’re my sister. None of that matters. I only care that you’re safe and happy, El.”

Ella took in a shaky breath, then let it out. She nodded. “Okay,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Okay.” Leona squeezed her shoulder, then went back to the bruise. She gave the foundation a few more dabs before setting the sponge down. “I think it’s done.”

The column of her neck looked completely unmarred. Ella ran a finger lightly over where the bruise was, feeling the tackiness of the makeup. “You can really work magic with that stuff, huh?”

“Pretty much.” Leona capped the bottle, then grabbed a little plastic bag and dropped it in. A clean sponge was tossed in as well before the bag was deposited in Ella’s hand. “For when you need to reapply. Don’t leave it on when you sleep. Wash it off and put more foundation on in the morning.”

Ella nodded, then glanced up at her sister. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Leona bit the inside of her lip. “Just… talk to me. Next time.” She shrugged and scratched at her arm. “And don’t give yourself a heatstroke for no good reason. I’m on your side. You know that right?”

Ella snorted. “Yeah. I know.” She put the baggie in the pocket of the hoodie. “I can do that, I guess.”

Leona put her arms around Ella’s shoulders in a firm hug, and Ella didn’t fight it. She squeezed her sister’s torso, smiling when the strength of it made her groan. Ella’s nose was tucked against Leona’s shoulder, and she looked at the cat calendar that hung against the pale blue bedroom wall, each day filled out with penned notes and highlighter circles.

“I’m gonna miss you when you leave,” Ella muttered against her shoulder.

Leona squeezed tighter. “Me too. I’m gonna miss all of you so much, you don’t even know.”

Ella smiled. “I do.”

Leona laughed. “Yeah… yeah, you probably do.”

The two returned to the cookout, Casey’s hoodie tucked into the back of Ella’s jean pocket. Donna gave them both a look and gestured to the plates of food sitting on the porch steps, letting them know that their requested hotdogs and burgers were probably cold because they took so fucking long. Dad placidly reminded Donna not to swear.