#gee i am so far behind on asks

[pepsimanan]

Hello ❢

I love your voice synth art, and you have a great artstyle in general ❢

May I suggest you draw Yuto Fujimura (UTAU) ? Or any other Yupphire UTAUloid, I think they all look great. Ɛ>

Have a nice day ❢

#27 Yuto Fujimura

[newtonsheffield]

Someone's about to get lifted onto a desk 👀👀👀

I do not doubt that for a single second tbh.

Also: this is Kate’s study! It’s too femininely decorated for it to be Anthony’s, even in his new wife guy era. And I love that for her.

I love that she has space for herself, and space to write her letters and run the household. I can also imagine her lips parting in surprise the very first time she saw the ledgers and she saw exactly how much money the Bridgertons have.

“Everything alright, Love?”

Kate let her eyes flick to Anthony, lounging in the chair across on the other side of the viscountess’s, of her desk. “Fine.”

“You look shocked.” Anthony sighed, “Let me guess you’re about to admonish me for letting my books fall into such disrepair but I would remind you why I haven’t had much time for bookmaking recently.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “It’s not… that. I suppose I just… knew you were wealthy but seeing it in person is another thing.”

“We are wealthy.” Anthony corrected lightly, “I hardly expect you to ask me for every little thing you want. That’s an awful way some men make their wives live.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “And here I thought I heard a rumour about you quizzing young ladies on a penchant for over spending.”

“People exaggerate. Or perhaps I don’t mind making you happy,”

It had seemed odd to Kate at first, the frequency with which Anthony seemed present in her study, especially as one of the other ladies had laughed when she’d mention that she and Anthony had been in there together.

“God, Herbert wouldn’t even know where to find it.”

But it seems normal now, having Anthony poke his head in. So much so that she doesn’t even need to look up to know who’s just slipped in and closed the door behind him.

“Viscountess, you work far too hard.”

Kate but back her smile at his use of her title. “Oh no, no, no. You’re supposed to be working. And I know what you calling me that means.”

Anthony looked at her innocently while he flopped down into the chair opposite her, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I only thought Gee, I hope my beautiful wife’s not getting bored all alone like I am.”

Kate leaned back in her chair, “So you’ve come to save me have you?”

He gestured to himself, grinning cheekily. “I’m your knight in shining armor, yes.”

“And here I thought you intended to rarely see your wife, I can’t seem to get rid of you.” Kate teased, leaning back in her chair. “Though I suppose that has its merits.”

“It does,” Anthony said eagerly, “I’d be more than happy, Viscountess, to show you just how willing I am to make your afternoon just a little bit more pleasurable.”

Kate’s breath caught, “Lock the door then.”

Anthony practically scrambled back over the chair. “Yes Ma’am.”

[nightlyrequiem]

Latrodectus

II. Fragmented

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

AO3

Latrodectus Mactans, otherwise known as the Black Widow, are known for their uncouth treatment of their partners. The 'widow' part of their name stemming from the common occurrence of the female devouring her partner after mating.

Tags/Warnings: Abduction, Violence, Emotional Manipulation, harassment, A Dabble of Psychological Torture, Drugging, Breaking And Entering, Fem!reader

================================================

Valeria learned to adapt, like any good animal. She mastered the art of mimicry, and her peers were none the wiser. She studied their faces and mannerisms and copied them to perfection. In hindsight it was pointless. Once puberty hit and she grew into her face and body nobody cared that there was something just a little off about her. Being pretty and physically developed meant she could get away with a lot more. No longer would she be shunned for her off putting ways. In fact, it just made her all the more desirable to her hormonal male peers. Their attention was wasted on Valeria, who spent most of her time chasing girls she found 'special.' Marie Sanchez turned out to be very unremarkable. Not as deity-like as Valeria thought she was. Then came Elle Minote, with her honey blonde hair and mousy round face. Her good looks rivaled Valeria's and she quickly swooped in to claim her. Crowning herself as Elle's best friend. 

Even before their friendship fell apart, Valeria's treatment of Elle was far from appropriate. She smothered her. Elle wasn't allowed to hang out with other people when Valeria was not pleasant. Elle wasn't allowed to have other friends. If she refused to stop hanging around them Valeria would throw guilt-tripping fits. Valeria would harshly criticize any boy Elle showed interest in. Making her feel foolish for even considering going out with him, why would Elle want a boy like that? She's far too pretty and likeable for someone about as interesting as a cheap handbag. Elle couldn't handle the overbearing weight of being Valeria's object of affection, though. She drifted away and found herself a boyfriend. Heartbroken and furious, Valeria vowed to ruin every relationship Elle ever got. It's not like she had any issues doing so. Boys are simple creatures after all.

You didn't eat the sandwich. Valeria stares at you with disappointment and you glower right back at her from the corner. Your skin is looking dull. Probably from the lack of nutrients and sunlight.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Valeria asks sharply. Why does she even bother with carefully handmaking your food if you're going to be so unappreciative?

"Why am I being so difficult?" You repeat. Voice hard with anger. "Gee, I don't know, maybe it's because you kidnapped me and locked me in a fucking cell!" Your hands grip your iron chain tightly.

"A cell?" Valeria scoffs incredulously. How dare you call this a cell. It's clean. You have a nice, soft bed with blankets. It's far more luxurious than any prisoner would get. She storms up to you and grabs your face. "You are so incredibly ungrateful." She whispers dangerously. Dilated eyes locked onto yours. 

You were an artist. In the background of one of your pictures, barely in frame, was a half-painted canvas. It took her a while of staring at the photo to realise you were painting a lamb. After some digging, she found out you did commissions. You didn't make a whole lot off of those though so to make ends meet you worked at a bar. Wasting your talents and life away serving up elaborate cocktails for ungracious patrons. Valeria became a regular. The bar was subpar and hardly worth the money she spent there but with you behind the chipping counter, illuminated by the sickly glow of the old hanging lights, she could spare a few pesos.

Her blood pressure would spike every time a male patron would flirt. She seethed even more whenever you'd giggle or smile at whatever stupid remark they'd make. You were only doing it to get tipped, Valeria knew that, but it still angered her to no level. No man was deserving of you. They would never be able to appreciate all your little intricacies. Not in the way a woman could. Not in the way she could. She had to walk out one night when you were laughing a little too hard at something one of your coworkers had said. She crouched in the alley behind the bar, stiff with hatred, fingers clutched in her hair. She hated him and she hated you.

Your nails bite into the skin of her wrist. Valeria shakes her arm harshly before grabbing your wrist and wrenching your hand away. Your nails scrape against her flesh as they're moved away. Leaving thin raised lines in their wake.

"I could show you what a cell really looks like." She growls. "I could leave you in a cold, dark, damp room. No bed, no toilet, maybe I should let you starve too." Valeria feels hurt that you are comparing your room to a cell. You're throwing her hospitality back into her face. She's doing her best with a shitty situation. She sees the fear coursing through you. The way your brows twitch down and the way your breathing hitches.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You ask. Your voice breaks, a warning that you're going to start crying. "... Is it sex you want?" Valeria releases your face. She has to take a step back to stop herself from slapping you. She already explained everything to you. Are you stupid?

"No." She snaps. Glaring at you. "I already told you why I'm doing this."

"You don't love me, don't stand there and try to convince me you do." You hiss. You press close to the wall.

Valeria is appalled by your words. She hates it when people try to claim to know what she feels. They could never begin to understand her feelings. Not even her parents could begin to understand it. The violent screaming and crying fits followed up by weeks of numbness. Valeria loves you so much that she didn't give up after you turned her down. She has so many plans for your life together. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. Those plans won't ever come true if she kills you.

"I know this is scary and that you don't understand," She explains slowly. "but I am doing what's best for you." And, what's best for her. She can't function like she needs to when she's constantly on the verge of snapping. All because the woman she wants isn't hers.

You aren't receptive to her words at all. You put your face in your hands. Your body is so tense that she can see a slight quiver in your shoulder.

"Let me OUT!" You screech. You throw your back against the wall and scream. Hands sliding up your face and into your hair. "Let me go you fucking PSYCHO!" You claw at your own arms and hyperventilate. Valeria watches silently. She knows you'll scream your vocal cords raw for the next few hours then curl up in your bed, unmoving for the next few weeks. Your behavior is repetitive and resonates with Valeria in a way that nothing else ever could. She sees herself in your rage. In the intense anger you direct onto yourself. She turns and walks out of the room.

Your screeching stops being audible at the top of the stairs. She locks the basement door and walks into the living room and sits down on her expensive dark grey couch. Her back aches in protest. She didn't realise how sore it was until now. She leans back with a sigh. Silence rings loudly in her ears as she thinks. You've been here for a month now, yet you aren't warming up to her at all. Perhaps it's the lack of stimuli. Animals kept in captivity develop zoochosis when under stimulated. Her gaze shifts to the painting she hung above the mantel. The beady eyes of a lamb stare unfeelingly back at her. She taps her fingers on her knee. She commissioned that one from you. 

You're frustrated and need an outlet. Valeria understands that now. With you being so deprived of anything you enjoyed pre-capture you'll probably jump at the opportunity to do anything other than stare at the depressing stone walls of your room. Painting is a good way to relieve stress and it's also a good way to bond. The sun shines through the window. Warming the little lamb. Highlighting the delicate paint strokes. She imagines how you must've looked while painting it. An engrossed look on your face as you twist your wrist in a delicate arch to capture the soft woolly curls.

When she was in primary school, Valeria would eat alone at lunch. Kneeling in the itchy grass beneath a large tree. The grass would leave indents on her calves and thighs. She had to come up with ways to entertain herself. She would read, play with bugs, tear strips of bark from the tree that shaded her. For her twelfth birthday her mother bought her a small, coiled notebook. It was pink and had bees on it. The best part was that she didn't have to use it for school. She filled the lined pages with drawings. Some of her favourite memories are of her sketching away at lunch, tuning out the joyful noises of her classmates. She knows how good art can be for the soul.

She browses through the paint section at a small craft store and wonders if she should get you your own sketchbook. The thought is tempting, but she'd have to give you something to draw with and she's unsure if she wants to provide any potential weapons. The paintbrushes she's getting you is risky enough. Her eyes scan over the coloured tubes of acrylic. Each one fighting for her attention. The whole store smells faintly woody. It's a little disorienting. She grabs twelve colours. The basic ones as well as a few different shades. She grabs some canvases too and walks to the front to pay. The little old lady at the front gives her a judgmental look. Valeria doesn't break eye contact as she hands over the cash.

Back home, she sets down the art supplies on the dining room table. She spreads them out and inspects them. The paints, the canvases, the brushes. She can feel her own creative spark flaring up at the sight. She puts all of it back into their respective bags and carries them over to the basement. She sets them down by the door and continues further down the hall. She walks into her bedroom. The room is tidy and free of dust. The queen bed with its light pink sheets is made, the pillows arranged against the headboard with care and precision. The day is on the hotter end, and she's sweated through her shirt. Jeans and a black long sleave clearly weren't the way to go. She digs through her wardrobe and settles on a comfortable pair of black cotton shorts and a t-shirt made of a thinner material. She gives her reflection a quick check, admiring the tattoos visible on her arms. She quickly combs her fingers through her hair then walks back out.

She picks up the bags and walks down the stairs. She reaches your door and presses an ear against the wood. There's no screaming or crying. She unlocks your door and peers inside. The light is off, but your shape beneath the covers is slightly visible from the light behind her.  You don't so much as shift when Valeria steps inside and turns on the light. She spots a few red droplets over in the corner. She's worried for a second that you did something to yourself, so she sets down the bags and speeds over to you. She grabs the edge of your blanket and yanks it down. There are a few red scratches on your forearm already beginning to scab. She relaxes when she realises it's nothing serious. She will need to cut your nails though. 

Valeria looms over you as she softly calls your name. Trying to coax you into sitting up. Despite your eyes being closed she knows you aren't sleeping.

"Hey." She murmurs. Grabbing your shoulder and giving it a small shake. "I know you're awake. Come see what I got for you." For a few seconds you remain still. The prospect of receiving something intrigues you enough to open your eyes though. Valeria respectfully steps back and watches you sluggishly rise up. You focus your blank gaze on her and then to the bags behind her. Valeria turns and drags them towards you. Setting them beside the bed. She walks back and sits down on the ground. The cement in cool and pleasant against her bare skin. You lean over the edge of your mattress and look through the first bag. Fingers grasp the rough material of a canvas, and you pull it out.

Valeria stares at you intently. Trying to discern what you're feeling. She feels frustrated at the lack of reaction. You hold the blank canvas in your lap and simply stare at it. Valeria decides it's because you're picturing what you could paint. You set it down to the side and to Valeria's pleasure, continue to look through her gifts. You take your time looking at the other canvases and all of the paints. At the sight of the brushes, you seem to perk up. She bought you ten, wanting to give you a little variety. You hold the largest brush and turn it over. Inspecting it at every angle. You softly trail a finger down the wooden handle. Raising your head, you lock eyes with Valeria.

"I know you liked to paint." Valeria says calmly. You look cute like this. You're not baring your teeth in a gleeful grin but Valeria can still tell you're happy and for that she feels smug. A month without anything for entertainment means anything new will seem far more interesting than it normally would.

You look back down at the paintbrush and Valeria takes the opportunity to approach. She shuffles over and rests an elbow on your bed. You look back at her and she gazes at you. Feeling awed by the sight of you. She has you within her grasp.

"I did." You murmur. Eyes glazing over as you retreat into your head. "I was - am - good at painting." You tell her. 

"I'll go get a cup of water; we can paint something now if you want." She says. Hoping you can't hear the satisfaction in her voice. You nod. Features soft for the first time since she took you. Valeria smiles and gets up, leaving your room. She doesn't bother locking the door. She won't be long.

Valeria hurries back down to you. Spilling some of the water on the stairs in her haste. You're sat on the floor with your paints spread out around you. Valeria realises that she forgot a palette. You don't seem to care though. You're hunched over a canvas. Dipping one of the brushes into a small splotch of green you just squirted onto the cement floor. Valeria feels the need to grab a rag and wipe it off, but she can't do it when you're finally starting to warm up to her. Valeria sits down across from you and places down the water cup between you two. Eight brushes sit off to the side and Valeria grabs one and a canvas. Starting her own painting.

Her eyes periodically shift back up to you. You're so focused that you don't take notice. Valeria is glad. She doesn't normally feel embarrassed but there's something vulnerable about painting the woman she loves. She does her best to mix colours to perfection. She remembers the detail and texture you created for the lamb painting. She tries to imitate it. To give your skin and hair life.

"Hey... Valeria?" You speak. She looks up again and stares. "... I need your opinion on something, could you come here and look at this?" Valeria sets down her canvas and moves towards you. Twisting awkwardly to look at your painting. It's a beautiful, lush landscape. She can see the brushes in her peripheral. She can hear your slightly fast breathing.

"I was wondering if I should add a cabin." She glances at the brushes again. Seven lined up side by side. She furrows her brows.  

"Um... Yeah a cabin would look nice." There should be eight.

The first time Valeria was ever stabbed was during an offence mission. She was cornered by an enemy. The feeling of his steel blade passing through the flesh and tendons of her hand didn't hurt as much as she imagined it would. It didn't hurt much at all. It just felt cold. Maybe because of the adrenaline rushing through her at the time. The rattling of your chain is the only warning she gets before the jagged edges of broken paintbrush pierce through her arm. You were quick but Valeria was quicker. Had she not blocked your attack you would've stabbed her in the side of the neck. 

The wood drags against her skin, leaving slivers as you pull it out to stab at her again. Valeria roughly grabs your arm and wrestles you into submission. You struggle and cry. Writhing beneath her. She squeezes your wrist until you're forced to let go of the paintbrush. Red runs down her arm. Dotting your painting with little red puddles. Valeria's movements are fluid and smooth as she wraps her hands around your throat. You wheeze and feebly try to fight back but Valeria only tightens her grip. Valeria feels betrayed and hurt. You attacked her, after she tried to do something nice for you, you attacked her. You start going still when she suddenly releases your throat. She glares down at you as you pant and cough. Her heart is hammering. Valeria needs to leave before she kills you. She aggressively grabs the paintbrushes and storms out of the basement. Locking the door behind her. She's given you too many chances. You're starting to run out.

[leclsrc]

hiii! could i request a charles fluff where he and y/n kinda have like some tradition that they do together or something. and its just special to them? like going traveling or even something ordinary like cleaning the house? sorry i'm a total sucker for these lmao

again late, so late, sorry! but i am trying to catch up w these olddd reqs hahshdhs. shoutout again to mack who live messaged me ab a grocery trip and inspired much of this ily. title from this

things lovers do – cl16

“And we’re out of limes, I think.” You say, humming as you review the contents of your fridge.

“Do we even use them that much?” Charles asks from the dinner table. He stares at the list, where he’s written the word limes. He holds a pen to the left of it, prepares to draw it across the word, but your own words of protest stop him. What—of course we use limes, you say.

“I don’t recall us making guacamole, is all.”

You shut the fridge, laughing and walking over to where he sits, wrapping your arms around him from behind. Together, you peruse the crumpled list, of words written and erased in Charles’ messy penmanship. There’s romaine, lemon, pasta, ciabatta. Assorted gum, because Charles likes to chew it while working. Coffee beans, because a day without them renders you half-deceased. 

This is a weekly thing—reviews of the grocery list, on the dinner table with two glasses of wine. Anyone can love, but not everyone can sit and be patient and browse every last item of the fridge and pantry to determine what needs to be added. And through the list you’re provided with a window for the week: Monday night dinner with pasta, Wednesday breakfast with ciabatta, a romaine salad for Thursday brunch.

If you told your six-year-old self that your best memories with your boyfriend would be formulating grocery lists, she would pout in your face. Boyfriend? She’d ask petulantly. Don’t we get to marry a prince, with a horse and a castle? No, you’d say. We get to have a prince, yes, but he has a car and a house in Monaco. Is that good enough? If it isn’t, he makes a mean set of pancakes.

Do we get to dance with him at a ball? It’s still a no, you’d tell her. The dancing happens in the kitchen, lit only by the yellow of the stovetop range while you play Harvest Moon and sway softly to the guitar. It happens by the fridge, when a Bee Gees song comes on and Charles can’t resist holding you by the waist and lifting you up to join his dancing. It happens while you wait for toast in the morning, when both the bread and the weather are in the middle of cool and warm, to Al Green on the radio. 

This love of grocery lists and airplane rides sure doesn’t live up to your six-year-old self’s fairytale standards, or your sixteen-year-old’s hopes of marrying Harry Styles. You think, however, that it far surpasses anything you could ever have wanted. 

His voice draws you out of your reverie. “You okay? You’re a bit quiet.”

“Just thinking,” you reassure, pressing a kiss to his hair and smiling. “Of things.” Of us, of toast and tea, of romance and loving you and making lists and loving you and God, loving you. “Lots of things.”

“…Is this because I added too much junk food?”

“No, God,” you say, fond. “It’s nothing.”

“I love you,” he says back. And if you ever doubted it, there would always be limes, written without erasure on this crumpled list on the dinner table.

[sports-on-sundays]

marc and reader breaking up bc of too many arguments and him being super sad

arguments / Marc Guiu / Part 2

Summary: Marc x female!reader - Marc is devastated because of the break up.

Warnings: implied depression, foul language, angst, mention of screaming, anxiety, mention of crying, angst, nausea

Requested?: Yeppers

Author's Note: Link to Part 1. There was another request that led up to this really nicely so I decided to just connect them as a part 1 & 2.

Marc Guiu stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom at two o'clock in the afternoon with the windows closed and the lights off, feeling like it's two o'clock in the morning.

You can't keep living like this, Marc. What's done is done. You said what you said. There's no way to fix it. Just move on.

But I can't.

I can't stop myself from loving her.

Pathetically enough- and Marc would admit in an instant that it is thoroughly pathetic- ever since that fateful day when she cut it off, his days have been a haze of football, sleeping, every so often forcing himself to eat and drink water, and doing what he's doing right now: letting the two sides of his thoughts argue with each other.

No one cares if you love her. She's done with you. You messed it up; it's your fault; oh well.

There's no way to fix it.

Just move on.

But no matter how much he tells himself, over and over, to just do that, it's like he can't.

It's like the picture of your lovely face is imprinted on the backs of his eyelids, so every time he blinks, every time he sleeps, you're there, looking like the angel you are, reminding him of how much he messed up.

"Ah!" he yells, tugging at his hair. "You idiot! You ruined it! Everything! She was the best thing that ever happened to you, and you fucking messed it up!

"You pathetic bastard! Get up and live your life! It's done! She's moved on and is probably happier than ever! Why are you letting her control you like this?"

On top of it all, he's been avoiding Gavi like the plague, knowing that you one hundred percent likely told him everything, all from your perspective, and knowing because of that, now Gavi probably hates his guts, too.

So, yeah. He's been avoiding Gavi and anyone close enough to him to have also heard. So Pedri is also off limits, and Ferran and João are iffy.

It's hard when he trains or plays with these guys nearly every day!

The only person he's told is Héctor, mostly just because he pried it out of Marc enough. He got annoying enough.

Ah, you idiot. Quit crying.

You're not going to let that girl ruin your life like this.

"Maybe he's not the only one who was in the wrong."

"What?" you ask, looking up at your best friend, Gavi. "What do you suppose I did wrong?" you ask, not too happy with this sudden statement from him.

Gavi shrugs. "I'm just saying, maybe you should've heard him out before it escalated so much. I don't know, though. What do I know?"

But you frown. "Probably nothing, but it still makes me think."

"Gee, thanks," he says, rolling his eyes.

"I honestly don't care, you know. It's fine. I don't want him back."

Gavi's lips purse as he says, "Then why do you bring him up every single conversation?"

You don't have an answer for this.

"Exactly," Gavi comments with a slight roll of the eyes. "Listen, I'm just saying- Marc isn't himself at all since you guys broke up. He's a shell of himself, and refuses to talk, honestly, anyone but Héctor, if he doesn't need to."

You frown. "I know, but..."

"All I'm saying is maybe he had a point."

"What does that mean?"

"It means if you're going to date someone, you've got to give stuff up for them. Including time and attention. And you were giving far more of that to me. I'm not saying you should get back with him; do what you want. But I am saying it's probably best to make amends, and not just let the last note of the symphony be screaming at each other, yeah?"

You lick your lips nervously. "I'll think about it."

Marc can see Héctor is staring at something behind his head, but before looking leans over to ask, "What is it?"

"Um," Héctor smiles nervously. "Y/n."

Immediately, Marc's eyes widen, reminding Héctor of a frightened rodent. "Please tell me you're joking."

Héctor gives a short shake of his head 'no.' "With Gavi and Pedri," he practically mouths.

Marc leans back, trying not to look easy to notice. Trying to look discreet. "Is it safer to leave or stay?"

"I reckon stay," Héctor responds.

Marc softly blows a raspberry, before looking down at his food. "My luck, I tell you," he murmurs.

"Sometime soon, you knew you'd run into her."

"I hoped not."

Héctor sighs. "I know."

Marc feels his anxiety rise when he watches you walk pass. Tossing your hair, with the sway in your step, confidence radiating off you.

He sinks his head down lower, nervously curling his napkin.

And then, as you're walking back, it's like something else takes control of his body, and he can't help himself but look up at you.

Your eyes meet.

Yours widen for a moment, and your steps begin to slow.

Marc is suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, and he says suddenly, "Héctor, let's get going now."

And you watch Marc and Héctor walk out, away from you, just like that.

But there was something strange in Marc's eyes.

Sorrow.

Loneliness.

Confusion.

Defeat.

But most of all, regret and guilt.

And seeing him like that makes you feel... strange.

You're not sure if you like it.

Shadows, passing in the night. Wind, come and gone. These mysterious concepts. A lonely boy and a confused girl.

Hands in his pockets, head down. It's become the natural stance for him. His hair has grown out and shadows his inky brown eyes. So many emotions that they're gone.

Imploded.

She holds her head up and flips her hair. Sharp tongue, quick remarks. Little glimmer when she winks. Confidence is key, but there's one thing that nags at her.

She wonders if it was all a mistake.

Their eyes meet on a dark street in the middle of a cool night, when neither of them should be out.

They both open their mouths to speak, but sound comes out of neither of them.

He reaches his hand out to her.

If he could fall into her arms, he would.

But the shadows shift, and she's gone. The wind carries her away. Like a secret not meant for his ears. Like a promise broken. Like glass that shattered but never made a sound.

Never hit the ground.

On a concrete wall, the side of a building, he writes with a Sharpie:

I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I still love you.

I need you to come back to me.

On a bathroom mirror, she writes in blood red lipstick:

Why can't I forgive him? Why can't I let him forgive me?

Why can't I let myself love him?

[fanaticsnail]

Téir Abhaile Riú

Oh my goodness, I have been working on this for the past few hours. It is currently a little over 1am right now and I know I'm going to be up soon but I am so happy with the way this little plot developed for our favourite, pink-haired cadet.

Word Count: 5,173

Now that I've got this one out, I feel like I can really focus on the main Buggy story I've got in development currently.

Her auburn hair whipped wildly behind her, flowing freely in the sea breeze. She sprinted, skirts in hand, and barrowed towards the dock with the haste of a hare upon seeing a hunting ferret. Bounding against her back, a large hurdy gurdy sway in her movements as it bounced side to side at each of her hastened skips.

“Keep up!” She cried gleefully behind her back with a small shriek, “they’re nearly here!”

You giggled at her giddy excitement as you clasped one hand on your layered skirts and held tight to the wooden handle of your many symbolled tambourine. You looked behind you to see your fellow minstrel attempting to hold his wide bodhran in one hand and his double ended beater in the other as he too expressed glee at the playful taunt from the leader of your troop. Looking further behind him, you noticed in the distance your bouzouki player struggled to keep the hastened pace.

The three of you, four if you include the relatively far off bouzouki player, plunged into town with rocks picking up under your feet. Your belled silver anklet tinkled with each step of your right foot, reverberating and melodically harmonizing with the anklet of your leader who nearly collided with a wagon with her haste. You quickly side stepped the large wagon while your bodhran clad friend performed a large leap over the wooden frame.

“You ruddy kids! Where’s your Da?” the vendor called after you as you giggled and continued your swift pace in response.

As you continued down the dirt mountain side, you saw the stretched sails of a dark boat approaching the docks. The figurehead was an intimidating bulldog with a broad piece of bone wedged between their teeth.

“Looks like Garp,” the bodhran player informed you, panting to keep up his rapid momentum. You hummed in response, continuing to run past several shop fronts to make your way through the mountainside city to set up as the marines came to port.

You skipped on your right foot as you halted in front of a grocer, stopping your sudden rapid movement.

“What are you doing?” called your red-head leader.

“I’m getting Saoirse! She needs to sing with us!” you called to your leader, “I’ll be down with her as soon as I break her out!”

The redhead again laughs in glee before calling to you, “we’ll dance until you two join us!”

You nodded before unceremoniously swinging wide the entrance to the near empty grocer, the bell above the door rattling with a loud clang to inform your entrance. Making eye contact with the blonde behind the counter, her smile first started in her eyes before bringing her lips up into a wide grin.

“Sailors?” she asked you, untying her apron from around her back.

“Marines,” you corrected her with a mischievous glint in your eyes, extending your unburdened hand to retrieve hers, “come on! Let’s get going!”

She swung her counter bar back and it hit the wooden benchtop with a loud thump and promptly sped through the shop door while grasping your hand; flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. You nearly collided with your bouzouki player as he continued making his merry way down to the docks.

“Gee, you young ones are speedy!” he commented with a rough huff of his voice as he struggled to still his breathing. Both you and Saoirse laughed elatedly in response as you continued to hold back your pace to arrive alongside him.

The ship had finally made its way into dock, many ropes being thrust into the air to meet the open arms of the boat-hands as they awaited their receival of them. The anchor was weighed with the rattle of a loud chain before plunging into the dark sea. You took into your sights heavy damage on the fore topmast, the fore topsail limply hanging against the foremast beneath it. You narrowed your eyes slightly at the knowledge that there may be injured marines aboard, but continued towards where your red-headed leader and bodhran player had began to drum and dance a jig while lilted with one another with their voices.

You continued grasping the hand of the blonde at your side as you flittered down the hill to meet the sandy shore. Saoirse began lilting her voice to join the other two voices in harmony with a broad smile adorning her features. Your eyes twinkled at the tri-part harmony as you released her hand from your grip and began to use your thumb and smallest finger to flick against the symbols of your tambourine to keep rhythmic harmony with your bodhran player, your skirts swaying as you spun and danced in time to the beat. Your belled anklet twinkled jingled against your gleeful leaps as you continued to dance. Finally, hunching over slightly to catch his breath momentarily, your bouzouki player created a place to sit atop a barrel as he began to strum to the beat.

This is how it was with the five of you: “The Merry Mellifluous Quint”, as the town referred to you. The twins: the red-headed songstress and her brother, the bodhran player began their musical journey accompanying their recently widower father: the bouzouki player. The most recent additions to the team were Saoirse, who began courting the bodhran twin; and yourself.

The marines began to march down their extended boat ramp and bring heavy boots to thump against the dock. You continued to laugh and dance to the tune produced, linking your arms with Saoirse and routinely skip and turn to the beat before joining with the auburn-haired leader and weaving your way between them. Although aware of their decent and their attention, you chose to pay their individuality no heed as you continued to dance with your musically-adoptive sisters and drum your tambourine to accompany their triune lilting.

The bodhran player halted his vocal arrangement and gestured for you to add your voice to the troop as the bouzouki was struck by the widower. You closed your eyes, halting your dance and tambourine administrations and held it firm against your chest as you called from the recesses of your soul the tune to fully embrace the harmonies of the other two women in the troop. You heard the bouzouki player exhale a loud gleeful laugh at this arrangement, pleased at how the improvisational melody had come to fruition.

Upon de-crescendoing the tune and concluding the arrangement, you opened your eyes and smiled as your sights were set on the approaching marines. You went to clasp your hands within the two other songstresses and curtseyed in respect to the arriving military men and women as they halted under the command of their Vice-Admiral.

“Thank you for your welcome, ladies,” he thanked, before turning to the other two members of the quint, “and gentlemen.”

“You’re most welcome,” the widower exclaimed, “we’re more than happy to be at the beck and call for entertaining fine sea-worn folk such as yourselves.”

“Well,” admiral Garp began, “by all means, continue your jolly lilting as we journey on our way into town.”

With a smile, the bodhran player counted in as the red-head brought the hurdy-gurdy from its place strapped against her back down onto her lap and began to crank the handle. The strings sprung to life under the rosin reverberating against the strings. She struck the pegs to alternate between the notes as you and Saoirse vocally harmonised with one another.

As you sung your jolly tune, you made eye contact with one of the marines trailing behind the Vice-Admiral. He had broad, circular-brimmed glasses atop his nose; pink hair stuffed beneath his marine cap. His blue eyes joined with yours as he remained stationary, enchanted by your melodical display. You softened your eyes as you continued, halting your dance movements to keep him bewitched with your skilled voice.

His eyes trailed over your features, focussing on your lips as they continued their melodical ornamentation of trills within augmented tones. You subtly approached the small marine, stalking ever so closer to him as you enjoyed his attention holding on you; before a loud order cut through the air.

“Come along, cadet!” the Vice-Admiral ordered, prompting you to jump slightly at the command alongside the pink-haired cadet.

“Yes, sir!” the cadet called out with a salute. His soft, almost hesitant voice held you as transfixed as the soft irises of his eyes did once they initially met with yours. The marine, although acknowledging his command with verbal affirmation; remained stationary as his eyes continued to trail with yours.

“Koby!” Garp again called, alerting Koby again to his duty to fall in line.

“Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” he called before shaking his head to flitter his gaze between the Vice-Admiral and you before he followed in line with the other marines.

As you began again your melody, you rolled within your mind ‘Koby, Koby, Koby’ as if to test the way your brogue could handle spilling it from betwixt your lips. You smiled as a warmth spread throughout your chest and crept with a tingly giddiness up towards your face as you continued to become transfixed on the retreating form of the short cadet.

You again concluded several tunes, much to the delight of the fishermen as they brought in their catch. In reward of your merry tunes, they produced several varieties of sea-bearing food to your troop as you all began to pack up your instruments and begin to return into town. All the while you packed up your instruments and conversed with the fishermen, you continued to think about the beautiful orbs hidden behind the rounded framed glasses on the marine’s face.

You bid the men and women on the shore good evening as you walked back into town. You linked arms with the bouzouki player and led him up the beach, following the echoing laughter of his children and his soon to be daughter in law.

“Oh, my dear,” he began with a small glint in his eye, taking your linked hand within his other one and holding it there, “that was some melody today.”

“Thank you, Hamish,” you smiled at him, continuing to lead him along into town.

“You even caught the attention of the young marine,” he teased you slightly, squeezing on your hand slightly, “and a handsome one at that.”

“That’s not hard to do, Hamish. They’re at sea for long, unable to have much music I imagine. I’m sure he was more taken with the tune and the liveliness than anything else,” you shrugged, trying to embrace the words you were saying to not assume anything untoward. Your cheeks at the mention of Koby began to pigment with a more rose tone as the blush slowly crept to your face.

“That’s no small feat, lassie. Marine’s are trained to avoid all distractions. That one was completely taken with you,” he added with a knowing smile,

You pursed your lips and continued to walk on your way, following behind your red-headed leader. You did notice how beautiful he was. He had an air of innocence surrounding him; something that immediately connected with you. You, yourself, tried to seek out more playfulness and mischievousness in life and opted for keeping blissfully ignorant to any sense of seriousness.

“What are we doing? Where are we going now?” Saoirse asked her beau, leaning on his shoulder in comfort.

“Where do you think?” called the redhead from the head of the troop, turning and beginning to walk backwards with a mischievous look in her eyes. Hamish laughed at her tone, while continuing to walk toe to toe with you.

“To the pub!” Called her drumming twin in glee.

You all had a small spring in your step as you head into town towards the well-lit town centre. Several young men and women were lining up to the entrance to the large pub, which was now riddled with marines – spilling almost from the rafters. You and your jolly troop of musicians walked past the line awaiting entrance to the pub and walked directly up to the doorman who was all smiles as he saw you all.

“Ladies, laddies,” he called, opening the doors to bring forth the warmth from within the pub. Hamish released your interlocked hand from the crook of his elbow as he clapped a hand warmly upon the doorman’s shoulder in familiarity. You followed behind the trio, walking directly behind the troop.

A group of regulars were engaging in a joyous, fast-paced melodic tune; the lyrics revolving around getting drunk and leaving a maiden high and dry upon their departure. You laughed at the verses and began to aid their tune with your voice as one of the younger members of their group took to his feet and began to engage in a rhythmic jig with you.

You felt eyes trailing you as you spun and interlocked arms with the young man, enjoying the carefree and expectation-less encounter as he spun you for the final time before taking a seat. He left you in the centre of the room as you all broke into the final chorus of the tune and laughed together. A final “hooray” was cheered throughout the room as flagons were thrust into the air. You cheered, clapping your hands in response to the song.

You turned to bring your gaze to meet with the bewildered stare of the marine cadet you shared a moment in time with earlier in the day. You quirked your head to the side and offered him a soft smile, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You trailed your gaze over his uniformed form, flittering between his pink hair and his too-large uniform before bringing your eyes up to meet with his eyes. You held your eyes on his face, looking at him through half-hooded eyes up through your eyelashes before the remainder of your troop came to thrust a drink into your arms and challenging you to throw it back faster than one another.

He watched you as your eyes widened with glee at the beverage as you held your breath and downed the drink with haste with your friends.

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

“You’re off duty, Cadet,” a gruff voice was presented to the air, breaking Koby out of his trance.

“Sir?” he asked, turning to meet the gaze of his Vice-Admiral as he sat in front of him; Bogard at his side. The Vice-Admiral rose his flagon to his lips; bringing the cold, yeasty brew to his lips before removing it to leave behind a white foam atop his silver moustache.

“You’re quick thinking, lad. I’ll give you that,” he said, bringing his thumb and forefingers up to wipe the foam from his upper lip, “but you’re pretty clueless when someone holds a candle to you.”

Bogard offered a small chuckle at the Vice-Admiral’s jest, bringing his own tankard to his lips. Koby darted his eyes around the table to focus on anything other than the Vice-Admiral, falling once more on your form as you released the drink from your lips and shuddered with a melodical laugh falling from your mouth.

“Go on, lad,” the Vice-Admiral jested with a small tap on his shoulder, “go get her a drink before someone else does.”

Immediately Koby springs to his feet, nervousness bringing a small tremble to his hands as he turns towards the bar.

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

You turn to see the young marine no longer seated with his Vice-Admiral, furrowing your brows slightly and pursing your lips in disappointment. You noticed an almost playful glint in the Vice-Admiral’s eyes as he rose his beverage in a slight salute to you, a gesture which you politely returned with your empty glass.

You turned to go back to the bar before a hand pulled you into the group of bar regulars.

“Go on, lass,” called one of the members, “get your troop to give us a proper wee tune!”

You laughed, shrugging off the hand that was clasping you and turned to the other minstrels and shrugged in question. Hamish laughed before picking up his bouzouki and fixing it on his lap.

“Go on: Saoirse, Isla, Lauchlan. Go up with her and let’s give these fine folk a proper drinking song!” he called out, prompting the other three members of your party to quickly down their refreshened drinks and place the empty tankards on a table near the setting.

There was a small stage at the rear of the room, littered slightly with empty barrels of rum and ale. You asked the nearest able-bodied marine to aid you in clearing the stage as your troop made their way to the space you were making. You kicked off your shoes as you enjoyed the feeling of the wooden floor on the souls of your feet when you sang and danced to your jaunty tunes, prompting Saoirse to do the same in turn.

Isla began winding her Hurdy-Gurdy and Lauchlan started beating his bodhran with the double ended beater to start a lively rhythm. The three of you began to take turns in singing the verses before your voices joined together in a lilted harmony in the chorus. The tune of the chorus was quickly picked up by those in the pub who joined your voices in the lyrics, some providing a less than adequate melody but their enthusiasm was welcome regardless.

As you were given the final verse of the song, the beats of the bodhran halted alongside the winding of the hurdy-gurdy and the plucking of the bouzouki to have every syllable you produced be able to be articulated through your lips. You searched the crowd, eyes softened as you continued your storytelling through the lyrics before your gaze found Koby. You eyes flittered at him slightly as you cocked your head shyly to the side and continued singing the verse before the pub erupted with one last chorus of the song.

As the song ended, cheers and clanging of tankards were heard resounding the polished wooden walls. You laughed and gave a small curtsey alongside the rest of “The Merry Mellifluous Quint” as each of the names of the troop were also yelled in celebration; the last of all your own.

Koby, upon hearing your name, had it repeating circularly within his mind: much as you did with his own earlier. He closed his eyes as he focussed on the way it sounded before opening his eyes to once more find your gaze awaiting him from your distance across the room.

You bit your lip slightly to hesitantly stifle the arising feeling in your chest as you brought your attention towards Koby. You noticed his eyes trail to your bottom lip, prompting you to remove it from between your teeth and leave them slightly parted instead.

“Give us one more!” the crowd called to your troop.

Hamish laughed with his whole body merrily.

“Come on, lads! We were on the beach for a good while and we’re parched. Give us an ale and we’ll see about another!” He chuckled, prompting several pub-goers to approach the bar.

Koby looked down at his hands, already holding two tankards of ale from prior to the beginning of the first song. He quickly shook off any uneasy nervousness and approached the troop with determination. You smiled at his approach, tilting your head to the side fondly. You stepped down from the risen stage and brought yourself closer to the approaching cadet.

“Are one of those for me, Marine?” you asked him shyly, looking to the floor before looking back to his eyes. His blue orbs revealed both a hesitancy and an eagerness to please you; a combination you had not been accustomed to in some time.

As an entertainer: many sailors, marines and travellers, even regulars most days, made their desires for you known with unfiltered words and unprompted gestures. Most of the time Hamish and Lauchlan managed to keep the unwanted attention from you and the other two women in the troop and only the reciprocated connections were chaperoned. In your time venturing with the troop, you were yet to engage with entertaining the affections of a fan; only ever dancing with the odd one or two here or there.

“Yes, miss,” he said, bowing his head slightly in a nod while offering you one of the tankards in his hands. You smiled at him, receiving the tankard with a polite nod. Your hands brushed against his fingertips as you accepted the vessel containing ale and you relished in the warm tingle it shot up your arm. You could see a pink hue akin to his shrouded locks appear over his face at that slight touch. This little response from him prompted you to throw all apprehension aside and boldly propose a game onto him.

“I have a suggestion, Marine,” you playfully smirked at him, “Koby, was it?”

“Yes, Miss,” he said with a nod, anxiously awaiting your suggestion.

“First one to reach the bottom of their tankard gets a prize,” you scrunched your nose up in a taunting smile.

“A prize?” he asked, knitting his brows together.

“Yes!” you gleefully exclaimed.

“What could I possibly have that you would want? I’m just a cadet, I have nothing that’s not miliary – besides my glasses, but I kind of need those,” he began to hastily list, prompting you to giggle.

“If I win,” you say with a mischievous grin, “I get to wear your hat for the next set.”

He sucked in a small breath through his teeth at the request.

“And if I win?” he asked, gulping slightly in apprehension.

“What could I possibly have that you would want, Koby?” you asked him, biting your lip and swaying slightly.

He trailed his eyes over your form, taking in your bare feet with your bell-riddled anklet to your skirts and blouse before settling his sights on your eyes. He flittered his eyes between them slightly, triangulating down to settle on your lips before answering.

“A kiss,” he whispered through parted lips, “I would like a kiss.”

“A kiss?” you asked him with a small smile. You stepped yourself closer to him before bringing the tankard closer to your lips, “first one to the bottom, Koby.”

As soon as you uttered those words, the small marine raised his tankard to his lips and began to overzealously drain the contents of the vessel almost before you could even begin drinking from your own. You almost spluttered a laugh in your tankard, but chose to focus solely on drinking from your own. He quickly dropped the hand holding his empty tankard to the side of himself and swayed slightly at the speed the alcohol entered his body as you continued to drink yours.

As you finished the dregs of the tankard and released the container from your lips, Koby searched your eyes for permission to claim his prize from your lips. You began to step yourself closer to him and tilted your head to make to press a kiss against his lips when a call bellowed from the stage.

“Alright, let’s all prepare for The Merry Mellifluous Quint as we perform our next song!” you heard Hamish say, halting your movement. You were so close to claiming those soft lips of his, you could almost taste the cool residual remnants of the ale from his breath. Your eyes fluttered shut as you restrained yourself at the call of the elder musician in your troop.

You stepped your body away from his, opening your eyes to find his fluttered closed. You could find yourself staring at him for eternity; his slightly anxious nature and his naive innocence brought together with how truly beautiful you found him beneath his rounded spectacles.

“Forgive me, Koby,” you whispered, “I promise I will make true your reward after this next song.”

You turned and stepped your body away from his as his eyes flittered open, a sad expression displayed in his eyes. Before you could truly halt your movements, you reached up your right hand and caressed his soft cheek; a small sigh of desire escaping through your lips.

Koby felt every part of his body seize up at that small touch, your hand igniting a powerful feeling from within his own body.

“Come on, miss,” called a pub-goer from beside you, “we ain’t got all night. Give us a song, then you can have your Marine, alright?”

You widened your eyes in shock at the comment, a blush creeping up your face as you truly comprehended the amount of eyes trailing both yourself and Koby. You swallowed and shook your head, immediately returning to the stage. Hamish’s playful expression with a glint of mischief pronounced in his eyes led your blush to deepen slightly to beet-red.

“Alright, this one is for all the sailors. We’ve got some fine men and women in this town for you to occupy your night with, should you desire it!” Hamish called with a bellowing laugh, prompting the room to flood with contagious laughter, “let’s get the night started!”

The music flooded the room, voices harmonising together and trilling between the notes. You kept your eyes fixated on Koby’s as you noticed his look of pure and unbridled adoration as he listened to your melody.

You swayed to the music, gesturing to the crowd ever so often to agree with the lyrics you expressed. Isla and Saoirse also added their flare to the song, lilting with the chorus. A call and response from the crowd occurred, prompting a good rapport from the audience as you continued on your tune.

As the final notes of the melody concluded, a loud cheer erupted the hall and tankards again began freely pouring from the bar and thrust to the stage in gratitude. You paid them no mind, focussing on the pink-haired Marine who was yet to tear his gaze from your own.

You leapt gracefully from the stage and almost skipped over to Koby, extending your hand to escort him. He took your hand with his own, his other bracing his hat slightly as you brought him to the exit of the pub. You pushed on the doors to open them, the sea air overcoming your senses as the star-lit sky danced above the shore. The moon trailed its beam over the horizon as wind whispered in the sails of the secure Marine ship.

Once out of the exposing lights of the pub, you turned your gaze to Koby’s before releasing his hand from your own and pressing his back against the darkened external wall of the pub. You brought your hands to his neck and laced them behind his scruff and holding him with a firm grip before bringing your lips up to meet with his own.

His lips were everything you thought they would be. They were soft and melted immediately into the kiss you were bestowing upon him. You opened your mouth slightly to deepen the kiss, prompting a gasp to escape into your mouth at your fervour. You could feel his inexperience at this type of affection, but found him to be a fast learner. He held the flesh just above your hips and pulled your body to rest flush against his. You continued to hold him against the wall, completely in control of the kiss you were sharing. You felt his large, circular glasses graze against the apple of your cheek, prompting you to smile into the kiss. He snaked his arms around your waist and maneuvered his hands to cradle the small of your back as he savoured the attention you were giving to him.

You brought your hands up to intertwine with his soft, pink locks; wondering momentarily how a sailor exposed to sprays of seawater kept his hair so soft to the touch. You removed his hat from his head with one of your hands and continued to maneuver his head to deepen the kiss you were sharing together. You began to release his lips, opting to press a flurry of kisses to the corner of his mouth before trailing down, over his jaw. He gasped in a shaky breath as his eyes fluttered to savour every moment. Your lips met with a space below his ear and you focussed a deep kiss on that point, swirling your tongue and tasting the exposed skin.

Koby panted slightly at your administrations before seeking your lips out once more with his own. While unbreaking this new kiss, he swiped your arms from atop his hair and brought his own to cradle your face. He walked with the kiss forward before spinning you to push you against the pub wall. You gasped in surprise at this sudden display of dominance as he continued to press kiss after kiss against your lips, jaw and now in turn your neck.

Your eyes fluttered open in surprise before resting in a half-lidded, glazed over state as you enjoyed each other in this sudden display of passion. You remained blissfully unaware of your surroundings, only being brought back as the doors of the pub flew open to reveal a small bustling group of regulars exiting from the door; drunkenly repeating the verse of the final song you sang as they stepped lightly down the steps.

This sudden drunken stupor brought your attention back to where you were and what you were actively engaging in. Although completely under the shroud of darkness and relatively hidden, a wave of slight embarrassment overcame the two of you as you almost jumped out of the arms of one another. Koby’s eyes were wide in shock as he trailed the group on their ascension back towards the town. You were the first to snap out of your momentary anxiety, raising a hand to seek out the cheek of Koby and turn his attention back to you.

“Are you ok, Marine?” you asked him in a voice above a whisper.

“I-I think so,” he stuttered as he allowed you to turn his head back to face you. You smiled warmly at him and traced the outside of his lips with your thumb.

“You’re quite good at that, you know,” you praised him, “I almost feel like I was the one rewarded.”

He chuckled slightly, flittering his eyes down to your hand then meeting your face again. He brought his own hand to your cheek and caressed you, his eyes half closed as he dreamily gazed into your eyes.

“Come on, Marine,” you jested to him, releasing his cheek from your hand and reaching it down to claim his unoccupied one, “I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink.”

He laughed at your offer before releasing your cheek and accepting gleefully.

Masterlist

He stepped in front of you, leading you back to the entrance of the pub while you placed atop your head the hat you had successfully removed during the passionate encounter moments prior with a mischievous smile.

Mini Part 2

[cookie-crumblr]

Hype Train!

F! Streamer Reader x M!Yandere Streamer OC

Part 1~

His Info: 📹✨

Part: 1 2

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: lots of boring tech talk(sorry i nerd out sometimes and i wanted to show his thought process for his intro) yandere, f!reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, stalking, internet stalking, lewd comments not from ML, edit: sorry! i forgot to tag NONCON EXHIBITION!!! omg that’s probably huge. i am so sorry!!!

He is always looking for smaller streamers to raid, to bring in his moderately sized and very active audience to someone who may often only get about 5-10 people.

Today, he picked you. Your cute little VTuber model already having captivated him. He looks up your sinsta first, and sees your selfies. You somehow look just like your tuber!

You’re so cute.

He clicks “raid now”, and says to shower you in love!

As soon as the alert goes off for the raid, so does a long line of follower alerts. “Wh-what?! OMG! Thank you so much!!! Welcome to my stream! how was yours? if you have to raid and run, go eat and sleep pleasantly!”

Oh goodness, you sound cute. You even cared about him without knowing him, sure he knows it’s just polite for streamers to say those things. But coming to him in your adorably sugary voice, he instantly believes you really care.

While he’s watching the swaying of your adorable little avatar on screen, he’s imagining the movements in your actual face behind the camera.

“Oh my! im so sorry, uh-” Your mic picks up your ferocious typing, and your sudden shock snap him back to the moment,“I forgot to shout you out, Jasper!”

His name rolling off your tongue sounds so perfect, as if he’s been waiting to hear it that way his entire life.

He springs into action, realizing you have no mods, lithe fingers dancing across keys swiftly and with new purpose, “No worries! Tysm for the SO!! also, i can mod for you, if you want!😊”

You beam behind your screen, “Oh! i could never ask that of you! maybe if you’re here again next time!”

Of course he will be. You don’t know that though.

“O-m-gee! Thank you all soooo much for the hype train!!! level 5?! i’ve never even had a level three!! this is crazy!”

God you’re cute when you’re so excited.

He has your selfies from sinsta pulled up in front of him as he listens deeply to you speak.

You’re so thankful, and so, so sweet…

You must be so innocent.

You’re at the very least naive, and he’d hate to just leave you to be eaten up by this cruel, cruel world…

He must get to you first.

Your stream ends a few hours later, his followers stayed the whole time to shower you in love.

He knows he’s got a lot of simps… They’d do anything he tells them to.

You though, you’ve had the most fun streaming that you’ve ever had so far! And that payout this month is really gonna help, they gave so much!

On your dipcord you see a new friend request, it’s him! You add him without a second thought, always looking for more streamer friends.

within seconds you receive a dm from him, “Want to VC?”

“Sure!” you respond, full of excitement. Something in your gut roils, you feel so nervous but your excitement overrules your body’s initial warning.

When you shouted him out you saw his own Vtuber, and heard his melodic voice, your face warms at the thought.

He calls and you answer after long seconds that feel like minutes of deep breathing, and hyping yourself up.

“How are you feeling, Y/Username, you had a pretty productive stream,” Jasper’s voice is even softer than in his clip, your stomach turns to a fluttering tangle of knots.

“Oh! haha,” you giggle, “only thanks to you!”

His heart melts in response.

“You were why the viewers stayed, don’t sell yourself short,” as he speaks he’s sifting through your public scocials.

He has noticed one older woman with her real name as her username that follows you on every single account. He continues down this path through the web. She has pictures with you, confirming that she’s your mother in the descriptions. she has her state tagged on flapbook.

That narrows it down as long as you didn’t move too far.

On your own socials you often have pictures of flowering trees near red bricks. And in one Selfie a street sign is reflected in your dark shades…

He floogle maps it, then goes into street veiw, there’s a couple red brick houses, but there’s also a red brick apartment complex right around the corner with magnolia trees…

He smiles as his fingers find his lips idly zoning out slightly.

You’re only a few hours flight away from him there…

“Jasper?” Your timid voice pulls him back.

“Yes, pretty,” He says in a low groan, “Can I follow your private?”

You blush fiercely, “Ye-Yeah! o-of course,” you’re so glad he can’t see you right now, your face completely buried in your hands.

You open your phone and go to sinstagram, he sent you a follow request and already followed your public streaming account.

You smile to yourself bashfully, tucking stray strands behind your warming ears.

He sees there are a few live cameras connected in the apartment buildings.

“Hey, this is a random question, but do you have a cat cam? i do, and i saw you have a cat on your public…” He asks, hoping to sound inconspicuous.

“Y-yeah! i do, wanna exchange kitten pics?” you laugh feeling more comfortable, he’s got a cat too! You can’t help but love cat dads…

“Always! and do you have protection on it?” he can already see that only a couple of the cameras don’t have any sort of blocker on them in these buildings. He’s almost disappointed.

There… “How cute…” He finds the one with live footage of your cat just as pictured sleeping on it’s giant plant shaped cat tree across the room.

“You mean like the warranty? Y-yeah! I paid for the 2 year…” You try to keep calm…

He sees a few creeps are already connected to your cam.

He easily follows their trail, typing away on his loud mechanical keyboard. The sound of it soothes you, you end up closing your eyes for a second.

“Oh no- You paid?” he sighs in frustration, not at you though. At whatever store took advantage of you. “This brand comes with a free two year when you buy it…” Shit. he misspoke. He isn’t supposed to know the brand.

You don’t consciously notice.

“For real?! I had no idea!!” You’re almost as frustrated. That was like thirty bucks you didn’t even have to spend.

He can’t help the small enamored smile that creeps across his face.

“Next time you want to buy something techy lemme know. I’ll make sure you get the most for what ya pay an all that… But, back to my question- I meant what kind of firewalls do you have on your router, do you use two-factor authentication on the camera?” He knows you don’t have either, but he’ll tell you what to do to start protecting yourself from these animals.

One of the connected IPs is a live cam website that nobody signs up to be on…

The comments on you from just walking in front of it sometimes are lewd and disgust him.

“I hope she walks by today, sigh…”

“She’s so hot… I wish she’d take those panties off more often though…”

“I saw the side of her ass again yesterday. looks so good, god i want to taste her…”

“I’d fuck her so good, better than whoever that ugly fucker is that comes over sometimes…”

“That guy’s so lucky…”

His face is twists in a deeper and deeper disgusted scowl the more he reads, he almost ignored the comments about a guy visiting you.

Almost.

His blood boils.

“I-I didn’t know you need stuff like that… I mean it just faces my cat’s tree anyway! hah…” You giggle more nervously again, feeling a little creeped out by the thought of someone accessing it. Do you walk by sometimes? You realize you do…

“Lemme help you.” He says almost too eagerly. Save it, he thinks quickly. “I-, I like to make sure the people around me are safe at least.”

“That’s so nice of you!! but, I don’t want to ask too much of you, I’m sure i could floogle how to myself!” You sound determined, it’s adorable, and his face softens immediately.

“Nah, it’s seriously no problem, we’re already talkin’ righ’now, an it’ll just take one sec. Promise.” You can hear the smile in his soft voice and feel more at ease again.

“Okay! if you say so, thanks so much, Jasper!”

“Mm,” He can’t help the quiet groan from hearing his name exit your lips, “‘course” He begins the process with you, and makes sure you check the “log out of all other locations” box. of course his doesn’t disconnect though.“I’ll keep you safe from now on.” His words carry a weight that you can feel. Your heart pounds.

“Thank you. I feel better already knowing my cat’s safe!”

You’re more worried about your cat than yourself.

You’re so pure

“Like i said, ‘s no problem. Come to me for whatever you need technologically.” God he hopes you do. He continues typing, working on sending his homemade virus to all these sickos that have gotten to see more of you than they deserve. “I’ll protect you from now on…”

“You-uh- S-sound like you work a lot!” You try and change the topic, your heart flipping over inside you.

“Hmm?” His rumbling voice keeps sending chills throughout your body.

“Oh! sorry, I can hear you typing on your keyboard, what are those? lubed yellows? They sound so nice…” Your face warms, a little embarrassed.

“Mhmm,” He practically moans again, you shiver, “glad you know your switches. They’re my favorite.”

“Could you show me how to lube mine sometime?”

Now it’s his turn with a warm, reddening face, hearing your voice say lube is making him think of anything but keyboards. He idly plays with his lip again, tugging it up with his teeth.

“how ‘bought I do it with you,” You shudder, not knowing, but directly feeling his hidden implications.

You sigh through your nose hoping he doesn’t hear.

He does.

He smiles, ecstatic with the knowledge that you got what he meant.

“Hey, Y/username, I have a little bit of work to do righ’now, can I call you t’morrow?”

“Of course! and it’s Y/N”

He beams, “have a nice evening, Y/N” His voice smooths even more than it already was. He’s barelyy above a whisper speaking into his mic, and straight into your ears.

The effect it has is… A little bit maddening.

“You too,” you speak up with a soft and shaky voice, “see ya later, Jasper” he can tell you’re at least a little aroused by him.

He bites his lip, feeling the tug on his snake bites.

After you hang up, he doesn’t have to wait even a second before the next call is answered:

“Sup Jazzy,” he’s used to hearing his own voice, but it’s always weird coming from another “person”.

“Sup Devvy, how’re you an Issac?”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 2

Day One | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Three

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Public sex (car sex); roleplaying; blowjob; cumplay; fingering

“You come here often?” 

You’ve talked about this, sure, but your question still makes him dip his head, his cheeks going pink with embarrassment. You can’t help but smile, biting the inside of your cheek to keep it from becoming a full-blown grin. You scooch your bar stool a little closer, tipping your head into his field of vision. 

“Am I bothering you?” You ply softly. 

“No.” 

“You sure?” 

For a moment, you think he’s going to back off, to mutter, “Red light.” But he nods, and turns his face toward yours a little, and insists,

“I’m sure.” 

You let your grin bloom then, leaning against the bar. You reach out, gently tipping the brim of his hat up to get a better look at his kind, dark eyes. 

“So?” You press. “You come here often?” 

“I’ve been here a time or two before. You?” 

“Nope. I’m just passing through. Or, well—” You let out a put upon sigh, “I was supposed to be. My car broke down, so I called for a tow.” 

“This late?” He pushes his sleeve back to eye his watch. 

“Yeah. They won’t be able to help me out until morning.” 

The man frowns, raising his hand to scratch at his chin. 

“What are you planning on doing until then?” 

“Gee, I don't know,” You sigh again. You can see him fighting back a smile at your use of gee. “Do you know any good motels around here?” 

“Tell ya what,” He sits up, “Why don’t I take a look at your car? I might be able to get it up and running just enough to get you where you need to go.” 

“Really?” You brighten. “What would that cost me?” 

He waves you off lightly. “Let’s just…See what the damage is, first.” 

-- 

He seems to balk at how far you parked from the bar. He casts cursory glances around the otherwise empty, dimly lit parking lot. 

“It’s lucky that you were able to pull off safely,” He comments. “Why don’t you, uh—Pop the hood and try getting it to start?” 

He keeps a careful distance as you climb into the car, shutting the door behind yourself and popping the hood. Once it’s raised entirely, you try to start the car. It lets out a cranking noise before you cut out the engine again. You hear him huff a soft, disbelieving laugh before he mumbles, “What did you do.” 

You step out of the car, leaning against the side and watching the man shine a light under the hood. His brow furrows before he reaches inside, rummaging for something. You hear a clank, then a clonk, and then— 

You tip your head to the side, watching as the man leans back with something in his hand. 

“What’s that?” You ask, nodding toward it. 

“It’s a wrench.” 

You push your lips into an innocent, o. “Now how the heck did that get in there?” 

“Haven’t the faintest idea, ma’am.” 

“How can I thank you, Mister…?” 

“You can just call me Frankie, no need for 'mister' anything. And really, I’m just glad I could help.” 

“There must be something that I can do,” You insist as he shuts your car hood.

“It’s really not…” He goes quiet as you step closer, hooking your fingers in the belt loops of your jeans. He swallows thickly, gaze dropping to your breasts, then to your hands. “Not…Necessary.” 

“You sure?” You step closer, pressing your body up against his. “I really,” Your gaze sweeps over from his eyes, to his lips, then up again, “Really want to thank you.” 

Frankie swallows thickly, adam's apple bobbing like a fishing fly in a lake. He finally manages, “Not here.” 

“Where?” 

He nods toward the car, and you smile salaciously, using your grip on his belt loops to tug him closer to you. 

“It might be a tight fit,” You warn, “You’re so damn broad.” Your lips widened to a grin as he flushes red, his embarrassment plain even in the dark. You worry again that he'll call off the game, but he grasps your wrists, insisting, “I’m sure we’ll manage.” 

--  

“Oh my god,” He mumbles. You grin, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock before he leaned down, taking more of his shaft into your mouth. You twist your hand around the length, spreading your spit as it slips from the sides of your mouth and working in a steady motion between your lips and the blunt edge of his zipper. You go still as he rests his hand on the back of your head, fucking between your lips. You can’t help but whimper with each thrust, gagging slightly as he shoves just a touch too far into your throat. 

“Fuck, sorry—” He breathes, sliding his hand down to your neck, but you won’t have any of it. You push yourself down again, gagging roughly, and forcing yourself there for as long as you can manage. You finally draw off with a gasp, tipping your head up to swipe your tongue along the head of his cock. Frankie’s mouth falls open, a shaky exhale leaving his lips as he nods hurriedly. 

You grin, jacking his cock even harder and closing your lips to suck around the head of his cock. His thighs go tight, a shaky swear passing from his lips as he cums suddenly. You close your eyes as his cum spurts across your lips and cheek, his hips giving aborted little jolts as he desperately tries not to rock the car or draw attention to the two of you. 

He finally sags back in the seat, groaning and drawing his hat down over his face. You grin, leaning back and swiping fingers across your face, gathering the few stray drops of cum. You wait until he pushes his hat back up to slide your fingers between your lips. 

“Goddamn,” He growls, grasping your jaw and drawing him up for a kiss. You wobble a little, planting your hand on the back of the seat as you grin against his lips.

"Here," He reaches down, grasping the seat level and sliding the seat as far back as it'll go. "C'mere." He steers you to sit on his lap, your legs splayed across the console to face the driver's seat. His fingers delve beneath the band of your leggings, and you grin as his touch smooths over your dampening pussy.

"Fuck," He groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

"Something wrong?"

"No panties? Seriously?"

"Is that a problem?" You sass, spreading your thighs and tipping into his touch as his fingertips swipe across your clit. Frankie just groans, leaning in and giving your neck a sucking kiss.

"I saw you put them on after we showered."

"I changed my mind about them."

"You drive me crazy," He mumbles. You hook your arm around his shoulder, sliding your fingers up into the curls at the nape of his neck.

"You love it."

Frankie chuckles against your skin, nipping it gently as he swirls his fingers around your tingling clit. You sigh as his fingers slip slickly over your skin, letting your head fall back against the cool window as you drive your hips into his touch.

"Is that what you need?" He murmurs, "Did you like that?"

"Yes—"

"You liked picking me up?"

"Frankie—"

"Pretending you were bringing me back to fuck in your front seat? Would you take me home if you didn't know me?" His pace picks up, hand swiping with an almost vicious speed. You shiver, grip tightening in his hair as you chase your release.

"Would you let me?" You whimper. You're so close, so goddamn close—

"In a heartbeat."

Your back bows as you cum sharply, mouth dropping open, only for Frankie to shove two fingers inside. He strokes along your tongue at the same speed and angle that he strokes your clit, keeping up the urging pressure until you feebly bat at his wrist. He stops then, resting his fingers over your pubic mound, his other hand lowering to rest over your shoulder, fingers slick with your spit.

"We have to go home," He mumbles.

"Why?" You pout, head still buzzing from your release. "You're not having fun?"

"I am, baby." He soothes, "But we're gonna need a bed for what I wanna do to you."

"The backseat's free."

"And it's all fun and games until the check engine light for my back comes on." He gives your pussy a friendly pat before drawing his hand out of your pants.

"Drive."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021

[in-g-major]

ATLA Unpacked: Ty Lee's Potential

One of the many things we missed out on from ATLA Book 3 was a Ty Lee character arc. Of Azula's trio she's ultimately the least explored and most auxiliary, which is sad. The possibilities were certainly there: a girl who seems too good-natured for the ruthlessness of the Fire Nation, coerced into helping Azula, seemingly naive about what her nation is doing or perhaps too timid to voice her concerns. Gee, all that sure rings a bell doesn't it? So, here are some things that I think could have been done w/ Ty Lee given what we know about her. 1. Friendship with Zuko and eventual Redemption Arc Canon screwed this one up during "The Beach," but there's no reason it had to be that way. Ty Lee should have been the person Zuko warmed up to the most given that they're both more caring people than Mai and Azula. With Ty Lee and Zuko, you have two sheltered and privileged teenagers who don't quite fit the mold of what Fire Nation children are *supposed* to be. As a result, Zuko is banished and Ty Lee leaves her aristocratic home life behind. Zuko's banishment and journey across the world helps him realize that the Fire Nation's war is wrong. Ty Lee, who was part of a traveling Fire Nation circus and eventually traveled the Earth Kingdom with Azula, could have easily come to the same realization. We never even get her perspective on the war in canon! Just imagine Ty Lee and Zuko bonding over martial arts, theater, and collecting pretty sea shells. They bring out each other's best qualities and motivate each other's redemption. 2. Standing up to Azula This has been commented on before, but Mai being the one who defies Azula instead of Ty Lee during "The Boiling Rock" is not a satisfying emotional climax. Mai happily left her boring life behind in "Return to Omashu" as soon as Azula gave her an opportunity, and she openly defied Azula's orders with no fear of retribution at least once. What Azula represented for Mai wasn't fear. Azula was the metaphorical "devil" on Mai's shoulder, distracting her from her lack of emotional fulfillment with fun and thrills. The one who was genuinely afraid of Azula, and abandoned her passion out of that fear, was Ty Lee. Ty Lee standing up to Azula and emerging victorious is far more emotionally and narratively satisfying given their dynamic. It also gives Mai a more character appropriate choice to make in the situation. Which leads me to my third point 3. Mai and Ty Lee marsreds made a fantastic commentary I read years ago. I'll link it in the comments, but her point was that throwing Mai into an awkward and uninteresting relationship with Zuko took the focus away from her relationships with Azula and Ty Lee and made her character arc about a boy. It's a pretty damning commentary on the sexism that seeped into the way ATLA's female characters were written, and how that became the norm for the franchise by the time of the comics. Anyway, a hugely missed opportunity for Ty Lee and Mai was their relationship with each other. Even though I am pro MaiLee, I won't make this ship heavy. Ultimately the writing has to come first, but Mai and Ty Lee do have a fun and touching dynamic. Ty Lee is even more playful and affectionate with Mai than she usually is, and Mai shows genuine care and empathy for Ty Lee. When they reunite in Omashu, Mai asks Ty Lee what happened with her joining the circus. Then, during "The Beach," Mai is the only one who stands up for Ty Lee, telling Zuko to back off and figuring out the root of Ty Lee's desire for attention. We never see Mai this invested in someone else's feelings and well-being with anyone else. The character appropriate choice for Mai in "The Boiling Rock" wasn't betraying Azula for teen love. It was choosing between the friend who encouraged her better self (Ty Lee) or the friend who kept her from growing as a person (Azula).

[healingfairy000000001]

So close yet too late. One piece x Ex member of the Roger pirates.

Type: Regret, angst, funural, spoilers.

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

Thud! When Y/N's hand finally gave up on her kids and hit the ground, Ace bit his lower lip and covered his eyes with his bloody hands in an attempt to stop him from sobbing. Nevertheless, Luffy gave a bloodcurdling scream to alert everyone to her passing.

Seeing an opportunity to kill the two, Akainu tried to attack them but Marco stopped him.

.

.

.

.

"Need help?" a woman asked from behind me. "No, need I-I-I got this," Marco said, attempting to sound confident but failing, "well I am helping anyway." She sat next to me and gently cared for my wounds, "Raylight did a number on you, but you held up well." After finishing her work, she looked at me with those warm eyes full of care and love... "gee, looks like you have a fever as well, your face is red!" Oh god, let me see." With a worried expression, she touched my forehead, checking for a fever. How clueless can one be?

.

.

.

With Ace and luffy being carried away by jimbe, Marco had to back away for whitebeard to take action......"you dare hurt my friend..!"

.

.

.

"Edward...hey I brought sake.." She sounded depressed, avoiding eye contact while holding a barrel of sake. "Y/N, what happened? Why aren't you with Roger crew?" Whitebeard inquired with concern, but when Roger was mentioned, she burst into tears: "He disbanded the crew." She was crying for the first time in a long time, but Whitebeard was hearing those news for the first time.

After calming down, White Beard began the conversation: "Do you want to join my crew? I would love to have you here." a gentle tone and caring eyes fitting of a father, and to sweeten the deal Marco suggested help in the infirmary, but she declined, "I can not really join the crew of my old captain frenemy....plus I see you more as a friend than a father," she apologised before teasing him a bit....."GURARARARARAR!!!" laughed Newgate, as did she...

.

.

.

Buggy, though a little far away, was barely holding himself together....how can he call himself a strong pirate if he can not protect anyone? She is gone, and he could not do anything but watch her save that straw hat idiot and his dumb brother. Why could not he move? He was there, he could have done something! But he didn't...because deep down he is still weak.

Silence filled the battlefield thanks to an unexpected guest The Red Haired Pirates.

Ending the war with just their presence shanks made his way to one of his guiders...still on her knees a calm smile engraved on her lifeless face shanks couldn't help but cry......again he stood by and did nothing....first Roger and now her....why can't the ones he love stay even buggy doesn't want anything to do with him mihak as well....why couldn't he have come sooner....

"Captain snap out of it, at least not here" benn said putting his hand on his captains shoulder, shanks thanking him took of his coat and wrapped it around her corps picking her up, "I will be taking both White beard and Y/N bodies"

.

.

.

[stonathandreamer]

Harrington-Byers

🔸 Masterlist

Synopsys: Steve and Jonathan welcome their first child in their lives.

A/N: Because Saturdays are married!Stonathan with a daughter days 🥰 and my day's been shitty so far, so I needed a dose of fluffiness to brighten it a little bit;

"Are you sure they gave us the right one?" Steve asks for the hundredth time, his eyes looking at Jonathan through the rear mirror before focusing back on the road.

His husband rolls his eyes for the hundredth time as well. If Jonathan had a penny for every time Steve asked, they'd have enough money to buy the second car they've wanted for the past month.

"Yes, Steve, I am sure," Jonathan replies before letting his eyes trail down to the peacefully asleep baby in his arms. All it takes is one look for Jonathan to know it is the right baby. "Yeah, it's the right one. It's our daughter, alright."

Steve hums while stopping at a red light. He turns around to examine the baby in Jonathan's arms. He trusts Jonathan's words, but Steve still wants to be 100% sure. It's better not to take risks.

"Yeah, it's the right one. Phew," Steve breathed a sigh of relief after watching the baby, making Jonathan roll his eyes (again).

"I told you they gave us the right baby, Steve. Do you think the adoption agency would mix the kids?"

"Hey, you can't never be too sure. Have you not heard the news from yesterday? About the Hospital screwing up and mixing two kids and giving them to the wrong parents?"

"That rarely happens, babe," Jonathan argues, carefully adjusting his arms to guarantee the baby is secured and comfortable in his embrace, unable to prevent a small, happy smile from creeping into his lips. It's impossible not to smile at seeing this adorable baby being so, well, adorable. "Besides, this one is our baby."

"Yeah," Steve smiles as well, his right hand gently caressing the baby's cheek. "She is our baby."

Both men smile at seeing their daughter in Jonathan's arms, snuggling closer to him while still asleep. Steve's eyes meet Jonathan's, silently conversing about how beautiful she is and how lucky they are to have her in their lives now. A tender moment that is interrupted by the car behind them honking loudly.

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I'M GOING!" Steve yells while sticking his head out the window, showing them the middle finger. "Gee, what a shit-eating fucker—"

"Steve," Jonathan admonishes him. He fears Steve's lack of a baby filter will result in their daughter learning to curse before anything else. "Language, please."

"Sorry, Jon..." Steve silently replies, focusing on the road. "But you saw how that dumbass honked at me, right? What a motherf—"

"Steven," Jonathan chastises him again, more firmly this time. He eyes the baby for a quick second, wanting to make sure the car honking and Steve's yelling didn't wake her up, but thankfully, the little girl remains asleep, unbothered by the noises from the outside world - gee, she's more of a heavy sleeper than Steve is. Jonathan sighs again before turning to his husband. "Just... Try to control your mouth, okay? Rule number three, remember? Don't—"

"'Don't curse in front of our baby.' Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll keep my sailor mouth in check. Promise." He makes a quick scout's promise hand gesture, making Jonathan chuckle in appreciation and amusement.

Steve turns around a corner, their house now in view. He parks the car in the driveway, turns off the engine, and steps out, opening the door for Jonathan to get out. Jonathan was going to tell Steve to grab the baby's bag, but Steve had other plans in mind. He extends his arms to the baby instead, claiming Jonathan's held for long enough, and now it's his turn. Jonathan was going to complain about not having the baby in his arms anymore, but the sight of Steve gently cradling her in his arms promptly shut him up. Steve opens the front door and enters the house, with Jonathan right behind him, carrying the baby's bag.

"Welcome home, baby! Here is the living room, where we watch funny series and films on the TV. Over there is the dining room. We only use it for fancy dinners with our friends and family. And the room right next to it is the kitchen, where your daddies make food," Steve points to each room he's referencing as if the baby's paying attention and not sleeping like a rock in his arms. "Oh, right, introductions! I'm your daddy Steve, and that handsome man over there is your daddy Jonathan!"

Steve points at himself and Jonathan with his classic Harrington charming smile. Jonathan chuckles at his antics and at being complimented. He approaches his husband and their daughter and gently pats her head, smiling at seeing the baby leaning her head against Steve's chest.

"Let's put her to sleep in her crib, Stevie."

Steve nods at him and heads towards the stairs to the baby's new room, Jonathan right behind him. Steve makes a 360 once entering the baby's nursery, pointing at the yellow-colored walls, plush toys, furniture, and the white crib.

"Alright, baby, this is your room. Your Uncle Will and Uncle Mike helped paint the walls. Your Aunt El picked the curtains, and Grandpa Jim assembled your dresser and changer, but he couldn't build the crib, so we asked your Grandma Joyce for help. And your daddies picked everything and paid for everything, too. So don't you forget that, alright?"

"Are you done showing her every tiny detail of the house, babe?" Jonathan chimes in. His arms crossed, and looking at Steve with a teasing grin and a raised eyebrow, making his husband playfully scoff in response.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm done showing her the house." Steve approaches the white crib and gently places the baby down, tucking her under a soft blanket, while Jonathan grabs a plush bunny from the nearby shelf and puts it next to her, watching with a warm smile as the little girl wraps her tiny arms around it.

"Sweet dreams, baby," Steve says softly, not wanting to wake her up while adjusting the blanket around her, assuring it is not too tight or too loose.

Jonathan watches their baby daughter sound asleep in her crib, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Elizabeth."

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Chapter One

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 4600

“So, I have an idea,” said Lorelei, dropping a file on my desk and leaning against it.

“Chicken salad or tuna?” I raised a brow, not bothering to stop typing on my keyboard, my eyes still focused on the screen in front of me.

“No, not lunch,” she scoffed in her Australian accent. “I mean about the book. I was thinking…”

She shoved the manila folder as well as a stack of papers to the corner of the desk so she could sit down.

“Lor,” I shook my head, my red hair bouncing off my shoulders, “If I remember correctly, the last time you told me you were thinking, we ended up with a three hundred page manuscript.”

“A book tour!” she cheered with glee, oblivious to my last comment.

My fingers stopped mid-sentence over the keys as I glared up at her.

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack!” she exclaimed.

I shook my head. “I don’t think we’re ready for a book tour.”

“Why not? The book’s doing fairly well. I talked to Kris about it and she thinks it’s a fabulous idea.”

“You’ve already spoken to our agent? You came in here like the idea came to you just now.”

“Okay, so I talked to a few people about it already, I-”

I sat back in my chair, crossing my arms. “What the hell, Lorelei? I thought we were partners.”

“We are!”

“Then why didn’t you come to me first?” I asked, perturbed to say the least.

Lorelei hung her head, playing with the pens that sat in the little box on my desk. “Because I was afraid you’d say no. I figured if I ran it by someone else first, you might get on board.”

“Gee, thanks,” I remarked sarcastically. “Am I that horrible to work with?”

“Oh, God, no! Stacey, it’s not that at all!”

I sighed, uncrossing my arms. “Kris thinks it’s a good idea, huh?”

“Yep!” she nodded, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “She says it could triple our sales. Just last week I went to a Nora Roberts book signing at the Galleria. The store was packed.”

I rolled my eyes. “We are not Nora Roberts.”

“Why not? We could be! You don’t have enough faith, Stace!”

I pursed my lips.

“C’mon, Stacey,” Lorelei begged. “Think outside the box. Expand your horizons. And for God’s sake believe in yourself!”

“You sound like a self-help seminar.”

“Good!” she widened her eyes, rising from the desk. “I’m going to be your cheerleader until you start to believe it too. The book is wonderful, Stacey. Give it a chance.”

I sighed again, turning my chair to gaze out the window. Our novel, The Loving Kind had been two years in the making. The story of a young woman from Louisiana who travels to New York to meet her estranged brother, only to fall in love with the stranger who was subletting his apartment, Lorelei and I had put our hearts, souls and guts into it, spending every free moment we had writing it. When we were proud of our final product, we submitted it to the publishing company we both worked for. Despite the nerves that enfolded us, our story was well received, and it was published within a few months.

Much to our surprise, the book took off and made an impression, hitting the Best Seller’s list. Neither of us had yet to quit our jobs, but we were doing well. Still, Lorelei’s words made me think. A book tour might do some good. As it was, we were close to halfway through our second book, and if the first one did well enough, we wouldn’t have any problem getting the new one to fly off the shelves. And maybe, I could finally quit my job and focus on writing full time.

“Okay,” I nodded, biting my lip. “Let’s do it.”

Lorelei giggled like a teenager the way she did when she was excited, one of the things that endeared her to me.

“You won’t regret it, Stacey. This is gonna be great.”

“Yeah,” I smirked, rising from my chair. “So, about that chicken salad…”

“Mommy?” asked Emery, my vivacious nine-year-old as she ran into the kitchen. “Can Reagan spend the night?”

“Not tonight, baby, I told you I have that book signing tomorrow. I’m taking you to your dad’s in the morning.”

“Why can’t we just take her home on the way to Daddy’s?” Emery whined.

“Because, I have to leave at 8am. I doubt Reagan is gonna want to get up that early after a sleepover. Especially with you.” I gave her a wink.

Emery pouted, dropping her arms before turning and heading back to her room. I shook my head, stirring the pasta on the stove.

After dinner I sat with Emery and her big sister Jasmine while we watched some goofy show on Cartoon Network, then I grabbed my phone to read a few texts and emails. Lorelei was meeting me at the Barnes & Noble in Northwest Houston at 9:30am so we could set up. Putting the kids to bed, I poured myself a glass of wine and relaxed on the sofa. Or at least tried to. My stomach was in knots. We’d had one book launch when the book was first released, but it was mostly just for the publishing company and a few friends and promoters. This would be the first time I would truly be dealing with the public - with my readers. And I was nervous as hell.

“Daddy!” Emery squealed, running to her father as soon as she got out of the car.

“Mornin’ pumpkin,” said Tod, my ex-husband as he embraced our little girl. Yes, Tod with one D. Because that’s the kind of mother he has. Someone so pretentious that she couldn’t bear to spell her precious boy’s name with two. We made eye contact, but he didn’t acknowledge me by name. “Hi, Jasmine, sweet girl, how are you?”

I looked at our older daughter, a smile on her face though she didn’t say anything. Jasmine was fourteen, but because she had Autism, she was still very much like a little girl. She had a pleasant, easy-going personality, but she was still fairly non-vocal.

“Want me to take that?” Tod asked, gesturing to the bag I had over my shoulder.

“Oh, sure, thanks,” I said handing it to him. “I have to get going.”

“Book signing, huh?” he nodded. “I’m proud of you, Stacey.”

I shrugged with a frown. “Thanks. No big deal. I’ll come pick them up tomorrow before dinner.”

“Okay.”

I gave the girls one last hug and kiss each before heading back to my car. As I backed out of the driveway, I waved at them, but secretly gave Tod the middle finger. In all the years we were together, not once had he told me he was proud of me. As far as I was concerned, he could take that remark and shove it.

The store was freezing. I folded my arms over my chest, trying to keep warm, even in a blazer. I watched as store employees scattered around, setting up signs and displays for Lorelei’s and my arrival. With the exception of a couple questions directed at me, they all seemed to know what they were doing, like this was old hat, so I stood back and observed.

“I think my eyelashes have frost on them,” I heard Lorelei whisper as she walked up behind me.

“Right?” I turned around. “I mean, I know this is Texas and it’s hot as blazes outside, but this is ridiculous.”

“That poor gal is sweating,” Lorelei pointed to a heavy-set woman in a v-neck. Sure enough, when she lifted a box of books and placed them behind the table, I noticed her armpits were wet.

“Ms. Barnett, Ms. Burns?” I suddenly heard to my left.

“Oh, yes?” I turned to see a tall, thin gentleman in a blue shirt and sweater vest. He seemed to have been aware of the temperature early.

“Store’s about to open,” he said. “We’ll have the customers come in and line up here. They’re allowed to get up to five books each to get signed.”

“Five?” I grimaced. “Eesh.”

“Don’t worry,” the young man, whose name tag I just noticed said Jeremy, smiled. “Most people just get one or two. But we have to set a limit, or you could be here all day.”

“Okay,” I blew out a breath. “Thanks.”

Jeremy guided us to the table, telling us where to sit. He placed a stack of books on the end of the table, and then roped off the area, indicating where the customers would walk through.

At 10AM on the dot, the doors opened, and a stream of people walked in. I saw Jeremy and the sweaty woman direct them where to go. Giving my best smile, I greeted the first person, a woman who looked to be around my mother’s age, maybe a little older.

“I just love your book!” she exclaimed, her Texas accent heavy.

“Thank you,” I grinned, opening the book she handed me to the first page. “Who should I make this out to?”

“Mary Jo,” she said. “It’s for my sister. I already read it on my Kindle, but I’ve told her all about it and she doesn’t have a Kindle, so I’m giving her a copy for her birthday.”

“Oh, well that’s wonderful!”

Passing the woman over to Lorelei, I greeted the next customer. We had all walks of life; I was pleasantly surprised. I thought it would be mostly older women, but I had quite a few young females tell me either the book meant a lot to them, or they hadn’t read it yet but were excited to because their friends had raved about it. That made me feel good, rewarded. Writing for yourself is one thing. Sometimes it’s just for you and you don’t have to share it with others. But when you do, and you get that positive feedback...it’s the best feeling in the world.

An hour or so later, Jeremy roped off the area again, informing Lorelei and me that we should take a break and come back in thirty minutes. I was grateful to give my hand a rest from the pen, and eager to grab a latte. Even with the people coming and going, I hadn’t felt much of a change in temperature, and I was still cold.

“Did you hear?” asked Lorelei as she stood up from her chair.

“Hear what?”

“There was a raucous earlier. Apparently some pop star is here.”

“What?” I quirked a brow. “Who?”

“I couldn’t figure it out,” she shrugged. “Some guy from One Direction or One Republic or...something, I don’t know.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“What? I didn’t hear it. All I know is some girls were freaking out over there.” Lorelei pointed toward the Starbucks, where I was headed.

“I’m going to the ladies' room, hon,” she said. “I’ll meet you.”

Paying for my coffee, I held it for a few minutes, allowing the steam from the paper cup to warm my cold hands. I wasn’t paying attention to anything else when I turned around swiftly, bumping into a tall frame that stood behind me.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed at the same moment I screamed. “Jesus, I’m so sorry!”

I stood in my spot, my hands up, unable to move. My thin silk top was wet with hot coffee, and it clung to my chest and stomach uncomfortably. Not to mention my off-white blazer was most likely ruined.

“Oh no,” I muttered.

“Are you alright?” the voice asked. I didn’t dare look at him. But one thing was certain. That was no Texas accent.

“Shit,” he cursed again. I stared down at my wet clothes, disbelief crippling me. I saw a pair of boots walk away and then return to my line of vision.

“Miss, I’m so sorry,” he said again, dabbing my wet clothes with napkins.

“It’s...it’s okay,” I managed to get out. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I-”

“Did it burn you?”

“No, no I’m fine,” I shook my head. Finally, I lifted my gaze to look at his face. What I saw, or rather who I saw, made my jaw hit the floor. I was face to face with Harry Styles.

“Ho-holy shit!” I breathed incredulously.

“You sure?” he inquired as though he hadn’t heard my exclamation. But the corner of his mouth said he had.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” I heard a voice to my right. Blinking, I turned to see a Starbucks employee, the guy who had made my latte.

“Yes, yes I’m okay,” I nodded. “Just wet.”

“I can make you another latte,” he offered. “No charge.”

I was about to say something incredibly harsh and sarcastic to the guy when Harry beat me to it.

“Honestly, mate,” he chuckled, “another coffee is probably the least of her worries.”

The young man gave Harry a look before sheepishly returning to his post behind the counter. Until that moment, I hadn’t noticed anyone else in our vicinity, but now I felt like a million eyes were on us.

“Here,” Harry suddenly said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. I watched as he removed several bills from it, handing them to me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Please,” he shrugged. “It’s the least I can do. Let me pay for your cleaning. If that jacket isn’t ruined already.”

I stared at the money in his hand before shaking my head.

“No, thanks. I’ll just...go buy something else to wear.”

“If you wash that in cold with vinegar it should come out, sugar.” I turned my head to see a grey-haired woman smiling at me.

“Oh, thank you,” I returned her smile. “But I’m not going home just yet. I’m here for my book signing and I don’t live nearby.”

I saw the woman mouth an “oh” when Harry spoke again.

“Please, love,” he insisted. “I feel bad. It was my fault.”

I shook my head. “First of all, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine. It was my coffee for gosh sakes. Second, I don’t want to take your money. There’s a Gap next door, I’ll just go over there and get something.”

“Then let me pay for it. Please.”

The sincerity in his eyes was blinding. Shit, his whole face was blinding. I couldn’t believe I was even able to look at him, let alone talk to him while I wore a coffee-drenched top.

“Oh my God, what happened?” I suddenly heard from a familiar voice.

Harry turned to look at Lorelei who’d just stepped up to the scene.

“I bumped into her and made her spill her coffee,” he explained.

It was only then that Lorelei realized who he was, or at least that he was the pop star that she had referred to earlier. Her mouth opened into a perfect O as she looked at him, then back at me.

“Are you okay?” she asked me.

“I’m fine,” I nodded. “Just gotta find something to wear.”

“Yeah, of course!”

I began to follow Lorelei out of Starbucks when Harry stopped me.

“Miss-”

“You’re very kind,” I interrupted, placing my hand on his arm. “But really, it’s not necessary.”

With that, I turned on my heels and walked out with my stained clothes and red cheeks.

An hour later, I was back at the table with Lorelei, signing books for more customers. The line seemed to be never ending. For every ten books I signed, there were twenty more people waiting for me to greet them with a smile on my face. I was starting to get a headache, mostly because I still hadn’t gotten to have my coffee.

Once we’d returned from the Gap with my new blouse and cardigan, I hadn’t seen any sign of Harry Styles. And due to the fact that there weren’t any young girls squealing and the Starbucks looked to be running like normal, I figured he had left.

I was chatting with Lorelei and a pleasant woman whose book I’d just signed when a shadow cast over the table in front of me and a latte cup was placed on it. I looked up to see the same face I’d bumped into earlier, only this time he wore a dimpled smile, his green eyes dancing.

“Hi,” I said, just above a whisper.

“I see you found some clothes,” he gestured to my chest. The tiny movement made me flinch, and I blushed all over again.

“What are you doing?” I asked, instantly regretting it.

“I reckoned I should buy your book,” he replied. “It’s the least I can do.”

I realized then that he was gripping a copy of The Loving Kind under his arm, against his chest. I glared at him incredulously.

“Also,” he added, pointing to the latte, “I got you another coffee. Replacing the one I made you spill.”

“Oh, um, thanks I…” I started to reach for the cup.

“Grande white mocha with soy milk,” he said.

I blinked, looking up at him again. “Yes, that’s right.”

Harry nodded with a grin, waiting to hand me his copy of the book until I’d taken a sip of the latte and set it back down on the table. I didn’t bother to ask him how he knew my Starbucks order.

“Now, will you sign this for me, please, Miss…” Harry looked at the book cover, reading the names at the bottom, “which one are you?”

“Barnett,” I replied shyly. “Stacey Barnett.”

“Miss Barnett,” he echoed. “Please.”

I shook my head. “You seriously want me to sign a book for you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because...you...you’re…” I realized I was looking like a fool, waving my wrist in circles.

“I’m what?” he furrowed his brow.

“Um…”

“I think what she means is that’s very kind of you to buy our book and ask us to sign it,” Lorelei piped up, apparently finished with the previous customer.

She took the book from my hands, opening it to the title page and laying it in front of me. I gave her a look which she returned with one of her own, poking me in the side before I grabbed my pen. Harry hovered over me, watching me sign my name.

“So, I guess that makes you Lorelei Burns,” he addressed Lorelei next to me.

“You are correct,” she beamed, flipping her blonde curls off her shoulder.

After signing my autograph, I passed the book to Lorelei and looked back up at Harry. Finally getting a good gander at him, I realized how obviously attractive he was. Not that it was any surprise. Both of my girls, particularly Emery, were One Direction fans. And Harry was Emery’s favorite. She had posters of him plastered on her walls, though most of them were from a few years back when they’d first started out. I’d thought he was cute then, but now? He had most certainly grown up.

I cleared my throat. “So what brings you to Houston, Harry?”

“I’m uh, doing promo,” he explained with a deep drawl, “for my solo album.”

“Oh, right,” I nodded, twirling a strand of hair around my finger like I tend to do when I’m anxious. “I heard about that.”

“I had a radio interview this morning at a station down the street,” he added.

“Oh, okay,” I replied. “I wonder if my daughter knew about it. She would have been ecstatic.”

“You have a daughter?” Harry asked as Lorelei handed him back the book.

I smiled, folding my arms on the table. “Two, actually. In fact…” I reached underneath the table to pull my cell phone from my bag. “If I don’t at least ask for a picture with you, my youngest will have a fit.”

Harry chuckled. “Alright then.”

I felt my face get hot when I realized I hadn’t actually asked for permission. “Um, do you mind?”

“Certainly not,” he replied softly, laying the book on the table next to my coffee. Man, I really liked his speaking voice. This guy should do audio books.

Without my having to tell him to, Harry walked around the side of the table and I met him halfway. He put his arm around me, as I did the same. Holding up the phone, I did my best to get us both in the frame before snapping a couple of quick selfies.

“Thank you so much, Emery will be thrilled.”

I started to sit back down until Harry’s next words stopped me.

“Did you want to make a video?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, my eyes wide with shock.

“For your daughters,” he explained.

I blinked. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

“Um, okay,” I muttered, holding the phone up once more.

“Emery, right?” asked Harry. “And what’s your other daughter’s name?”

“Jasmine,” I replied quickly.

With fumbling hands, I managed to switch the mode to video and nodded to Harry. As calmly and easily as anyone could, Harry waved at the screen.

“Hi Jasmine, hi Emery. I’m Harry. Just wanted to say hello. Hope you’re doing well. See you soon.”

He gave an adorable grin and a thumbs up before I pressed the button again to stop the recording. I swallowed hard, placing my phone on the table.

“That was very kind of you,” I said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded, his eyes blinking slowly.

“I’d say I owe you one,” I chuckled shyly, “but maybe instead we can call it even.”

Harry’s mouth twitched before one side curled up into a slow sexy smirk, his dimple showing. I almost regretted my pitiful attempt at teasing seeing as that one gesture could make any woman weak in the knees.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said.

I sucked in my lips, grateful for the chair next to me as I sat down on it. Harry walked around the table, picking up his signed book. The line behind him had seemed to freeze except for one woman that was chatting with Lorelei. It was funny how I’d momentarily forgotten what I was there for.

“It was nice meeting you, Stacey,” Harry held out his hand. I took it with a smile.

“You too, Harry.”

“Lorelei,” he nodded towards her, shaking her hand.

“Bye, Harry,” she grinned.

“Take care,” he acknowledged me again with a short wave goodbye.

I quickly greeted the next woman in line who looked at me like a deer in headlights as she gripped her copy of my book in her hands.

“Wow!” she mouthed.

I stifled a giggle. Then I nodded. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Emery,” I said as we sat at the table and dug into our pizza. “Guess who I met yesterday?”

“Who?” she asked, taking a sip of her soda.

“Somebody you like a lot. Who’s on your bedroom walls?”

I gave her a sly grin as her eyes got big as saucers. “Whaaaat?”

I laughed. “Guess!”

“Somebody from...One Direction?” her final words were barely a whisper as though she was embarrassed to say them.

“Yes. Your favorite.” I took another bite of pizza, chewing while my nine year old glared at me incredulously.

“You...met...Harry...Styles?”

“Yep,” I said nonchalantly.

“Mommy!!” Emery leaped from her chair, grabbing my arm. “Did you get a picture? Did you take a selfie with him?”

I chuckled harder. “I might have.”

Emery squealed as she jumped up and down, grabbing my phone. “I can’t believe it! Lemme see!”

I heard a sound to my left and saw Jasmine bouncing in her chair, her hands flapping in excitement.

“Calm down, Emery, you silly girl,” I said. “Let me find it.”

I wanted to show her the photo first, then the video so she would be doubly surprised.

“Oh my God, Mommy!!” she yelled as she looked at the photo of Harry and me. “It’s Harry!”

“I know! And check this out,” I said, taking the phone from her little hand and swiping to the video. “Come over on this side so Jasmine can see too.”

Emery walked around the table to stand between Jasmine and me and I pressed the screen for the video to start. As soon as it began to play and the girls heard Harry say their names, Emery lost it.

“Mommmmmyyyyyyyy!”

I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt. I let Emery have the phone then. She played the video ten times. And I didn’t mind in the least. Although Jasmine didn’t vocalize like Emery did, I enjoyed seeing the smile on her face that Harry Styles had said her name and waved hello. Finally, I had to take the phone from Emery and remind her that her pizza was getting cold. She gave me a huge hug and a thank you before she sat back down in her chair.

After dinner and making sure everything was set for school the next morning, I put the girls to bed. My mother had called earlier before I’d gone to pick the girls up from Tod’s, but I’d let it go to voicemail. I hadn’t been in the mood to talk to her. Usually when she called, she acted like she wanted to ask how I was doing, but somehow the conversation always ended up on her and her problems. I’d decided to wait til I knew she was probably getting ready for bed herself, because then the conversation might be short. I was a horrible daughter.

“Hey,” I said when she answered. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

“It’s okay,” said my mother. “So how was it yesterday?”

“It was good,” I replied. “Sold a lot of books. Signed a lot of autographs. It’s like I’m famous or something.”

My mom laughed. “Did you see Kendra posted pictures of Ben on Facebook today?”

Wow. That didn’t take long for her to change the subject. Must’ve been a record. Kendra was my brother’s wife; Ben was their son. They lived in South Carolina, which was also where my mother was from. After her divorce from my dad, she’d spent a lot of time whining that if it wasn’t for my kids and me, she’d have moved back there. Part of me (actually most of me) wished she would.

“No, I didn’t get on Facebook,” I sighed. She knew that.

“He’s getting so big.”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t ask me how my doctor’s appointment went.”

Here we go again.

“Sorry, with this whole book tour on my mind, I forgot. How’d it go?”

My mother told me about how her doctor was now suggesting she see a chiropractor, then quickly delved into her guilt trip about how I don’t call her enough and how my brother doesn’t call her or invite her to come visit. I listened for about ten minutes until I finally told her I needed to get to bed.

Crawling under the covers and turning out the lamp, I stared at the ceiling. The same thing that had kept me awake late the night before returned to my mind.

I couldn’t get his face and his voice out of my head. What the heck was going on? I wasn’t some lovesick teenager. I was a grown woman; I was forty years old for crying out loud! Harry Styles was just some young heartthrob that didn’t know me from Adam. It’s not like I’d ever see him again. He’d probably already forgotten my name…

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[runningthroughthegarden]

don't you know that i am right here? - xavier thorpe

summary: Xavier finds an obsession with the new girl leaving you behind. You want him to realize you’ve always been there.

a/n this is to all the people who can relate to satellite by harry styles <3

word count 1.3k , fluff , slight yelling

you got a new life. am i bothering you?

You and Xavier were best friends. Until Wednesday Addams came along. It was as if there was a magnetic force surrounding her, because as soon as she arrived you were left in the dust.

At first it hurt, a lot. But as the weeks dragged on, you grew used to the absence of your best friend. Soon that would fade, and you would grow jealous. Jealous of their relationship, jealous of the way he looked at her, jealous of the time they spent together, jealous of her.

The Rave'N dance was quickly approaching. You decided instead of moping around you were finally going to get your best friend back. And maybe even confess your feelings in the process.

do you wanna talk?

You spent the entire school day hyping yourself up to gain the courage to finally speak to Xavier. You decided you would catch up to him after school, he'd probably be by his art studio by then.

Your last class ran a couple minutes late, so you were speed walking to catch up to Xavier at his shed. Except when you arrived you realized you were far too late.

"Would you go to the dance with me?" Wednesday shyly asked.

"Yes, Wednesday, I would love to go to the dance with you. I thought you'd never ask." Xavier answers with a smile.

As you hid behind a tree to hide from Wednesdays gaze, you could feel your heart sink. As tears prickled your eyes, you fear you may never regain your best friend.

i don’t wanna talk to you. she said “give me a day or two”

Tears now streaming down your face, you rush back to your dorm. On the way Enid notices your disheveled state.

"Oh, em gee!! y/n what happened are you okay??" Enid asks with concern while grabbing your shoulders.

"Wednesday and Xavier are going to the dance together" you say between sniffles.

"What do you mean? Everyone thought you two were gonna go together." Enid asks, a bit confused.

"What do you mean everyone?" you say confused.

"I mean it's like totally obvious that you two are in love with each other. You'd be an idiot not to see that." Enid explains.

You can feel even more tears begin to form.

"Hey c'mon don't worry about it, you'll get him back. You can come dress shopping with us! Show him what he's really missing." Enid laughs.

"Yeah okay." you agree with a small smile.

i go ‘round and ‘round satellite.

It was now a day before the dance, you were a little nervous to see Xavier. You decided that if you stuck with your friends, you'd forget about him and finally have some fun. Enid helped you pick out a beautiful white lace dress.

The school day was going fine until you heard whispers around you.

'Did you hear about Xavier and Wednesday??'

'I heard she ditched him for Tyler'

'She totally played him'

'Poor Xavier must be heartbroken'

You wanted so badly to talk to him, but you knew you weren't strong enough to face him. Besides, you were finally starting to do good on your own. Stick to the plan and don't get caught up.

As you entered the quad your eyes immediately landed on him. He looked tired and lost as he continued working on his mural. He turned around, almost immediately sensing your eyes lingering on his frame.

Your eyes locked from across the quad. Two broken teenagers hoping to become whole again.

i can see you’re lonely down there

It was finally the night of the Rave'N dance. You spent the few hours beforehand to yourself getting ready in your dorm. You were going to meet Enid and your friends right outside the party entrance, so you took your time.

As you finished the final touches you felt absolutely beautiful. The silk and lace fabric hugging your figure. The glittering eyeshadow making your eyes sparkle in the moonlight. Your hair falling in perfect curls contouring your face.

Walking over to the Rave'N you felt the best you had in weeks. All eyes were on you as you made your grand entrance. The lights and atmosphere amplified your beauty even more.

While your friends made their way to a table, you felt a familiar pair of eyes on you. You look over to see nonother than Xavier. Just like in the quad it feels like time stops for just a moment. You soon break the contact trying to stay strong. You are here to have fun, not mope.

Shortly after your entrance everyone silenced as Wednesday Addams arrived. She came with some normie from Jericho. As much as you hated to admit it, she looked amazing.

You look over to see Xavier's eyes immediately glued to her. Of course. You were stupid to think Xavier would be easily pulled away from her. Your heart stung for a moment, feeling insecurities take over you.

spinning out, waiting for ya

You were out on the dance floor dancing with Enid, who was pulling out all her signature moves. Once again you felt a pair of eyes on you. At this point you were so tired of his stupid little games.

Just as you were about to advert your gaze he quickly shot up, walking towards you. Before you could even say a word, he was grabbing your wrist and pulling you outside.

"What is your problem?" Xavier quickly asks.

"My problem? What's my problem?!? Why don't we start with yours?" You ask, feeling the anger rise inside of you.

"What-" Xavier was about to question before you cut him off.

"You seriously think I didn't notice? Ever since Wednesday's arrived you haven't given a shit about me" You explain.

"y/n that's not what-" Xavier tries to explain.

"I'm spinning out, waiting for you to pull me in. I can see you're lonely down there. Don't you know that I am right here??" You slightly shout, watching Xavier's face for any sort of answer.

"y/n can't you see! That's why I had to back away." Xavier cries out.

"What?" you say. You suddenly feel insecure standing in front of the man you're in love with.

"I am so fucking in love with you I don't know what to do with myself!" Xavier exclaims.

You stand there confused.

"I can't keep my eyes off of you. I constantly hear your voice in my head. I can't stop drawing you. You're all I think about. It's like you've consumed me. It feels like summer when I'm with you. You're this constant beam of light in my life. And I didn't want to ruin you." Xavier sighs.

"Ruin me?" you say confused.

"I just, I was so scared I would somehow mess up our relationship. I didn't want to take that chance, so I just left. I went with Wednesday to try to distract myself, but that didn't work at all. All I could think about was you" Xavier explains.

"You're an idiot!" You yell.

"What?" Xavier questions, confused by your outburst.

"I've been right here this whole time! You could've talked to me. We could have talked this through" you exclaim.

Xavier stands there for a second.

"Is it too late now?" He asks, grabbing your hands to pull you in closer.

"Please just kiss me already" you plead.

Before you could even finish that sentence his lips came crashing down onto yours. His hands fell to your waist, pulling you in. Your arms swung around his neck, deepening the kiss. The world stopped for just a moment. You finally pulled away, gasping for air with pink swollen lips. Neither of your smiles could be contained.

There you were. Two teenagers kissing in the moonlight. Finally whole.

[sprinklepartyfall]

So, in light of this, and finding out Bloodmoon died apparently, the brainrot began, enjoy.

@o-i-w-u pspspspsps-

The trick board.

(Spirit/Monster?) Bloodmoon twins x Reader

[Insignificant Warnings: This is medium-long in length, I did not proofread this, it basically gets cut off as a cliffhanger at the end.]

In a far off timeline, the world was shattered. Chaos from the breakdown of the leaders and the cowardly actions of the followers. Luckily, you never liked people, so you were already pretty skilled at avoiding them, yay anti-social behavior-!

As a lone survivor, you learned pretty fast that most easy things were probably a trap made by other survivors. You had been currently walking around a store, sneaking around the people already there to grab supplies and go. That was before you heard them... talking to themselves? To air maybe?

Once you got a closer look, it seemed they'd been trying to use an ouija board... how someone could find one was a mystery, and why they would keep it was beyond you. But it was funny that they tried, and quite clearly failed to talk to whatever ghost or demon they were trying to find.

You stuck around, mostly since they were arguing and, well, it was over something stupid and you needed entertainment. That was when you got one idea, it only seemed to be three people... so you stole the ouija board while they were distracted, causing quite the fright when they noticed. Chaos was one thing that would never leave the broken world you lived in, and that was somehow a small comfort for you.

You'd left the building, walking through the shadows with your newly acquired item as the yelling of panic fades behind you. Was it mean? Yes. But was it funny? Hell yeah. The board, along with its little planchette, was under your arm.

You walked to an abandoned park nearby, climbing up a tree burgrudgingly so you wouldn't be spotted, and set the board down. You didn't expect it to work, so you didn't bother trying, unlike the probable ghost that made it quite clear it wanted to talk. You nearly fell out of the tree when you saw it start moving, firstly because that was definitely not just the wind, and Secondly because that's not how it worked...

The piece went to the 'hello' area showing this was happening whether you wanted it to or not, you did not get a say in this. But of course, after a couple minutes of stunned silence, the spirit spoke again; 'R-E-S-P-O-N-D–T-O–U-S' that wasn't comforting, that wasn't comforting at all, there were MULTIPLE.

"...Hi..." You mumbled out warily, panicking a lot more internally than externally. 'H-E-L-L-O' The spirit spelled out, even though there was a spot that already said hello- 'Y-O-U–L-I-V-E' The spirit pointed out, making you tense even more, maybe you were just insane? That would probably be... worse actually... "I am." You responded hesitantly, glancing around to make sure you weren't about to die some cruel death.

'W-H-Y–T-E-N-S-E' oh gee, you wonder why, it totally isn't the fact you're probably haunted or cursed now. "No reason." You stated simply, because you aren't going to be a jerk, that would be rude. "Who are you?" Your tone was polite although with a hint of anxiety, which was probably not fine. Most people would run from this... in fact, you would have been too, if it weren't for the fact you were in a tree, and would probably just lay there in defeat if you fell.

'B-L-O-O-D-M-O-O-N' You had to pause at that name, it wasn't common at all and definitely didn't scream "I'm friendly!" But you were probably stuck with it in some way now. "...nice to meet you." You responded politely, how else were you supposed to react to this? You were an anxious introvert and this was a potentially bloodthirsty ghost, not a great combination.

'Y-O-U–S-M-A-L-L' they pointed out, in which you weren't actually THAT small... so how tall was this ghost?? Apparently, much taller than you. "Okay... why are you... talking to me?" You asked, ignoring the strange spirits words. 'Y-O-U–L-O-O-K–F-R-A-G-I-L-E' the spirit responded, a sudden chill running down your spine as it spoke. "...is that a good thing to you?" You responded sheepishly, tilting your head slightly as you spoke. Instead of an answer, however, the planchette was thrown at your head, hitting the tree behind you. A few small bits of bark fell from the trees trunk, and you felt so thankful that you tilted your head out of its way.

"Nope, nope, nope, nope-" You started repeating as you moved to get up, you were ready to climb down and run now, but that was before you were grabbed by something... maybe someone.

You yelped, yet it was muffled by a cold hand over your mouth, another wrapped around your waist as you were pulled into the tree. Your eyes wideneding before shutting completely, a dizzy feeling overwhelming your senses as you were taken away.

Once you had regained your senses, finally opening your eyes, you were met with a void and... a face strangely close to you. You flinched back, now noticing the feeling of someone holding you from behind as they had chuckled at your feared reaction. "Other, they are finally awake." The one in your face stated with a grin.

It seemed like it was themed after the moon, yet showed no sign of silver aside from the silver star on its chest... it had various shades of red adoring its large form. It was a good four, maybe five feet taller than you and god was it intimidating. It looked like some sort of beast, claws, sharp teeth bared in that eerie grin it showed you. It looked... scaly in a way, its skin looked rough with the fading scars along its chest, arms, and left hip. It wore some sort of navy blue robe of sorts, yet it didn't cover much of its appearance like most would, more so just... kept it warm, maybe?

"Indeed other! It seems they survived!" The one that held you, or 'other'? Spoke, its excitement clear. its appearance quiet similar to the other creatures, the only differences being its star was gold, it had less scars, and it felt a bit fuzzy...

"They seem confused." 'Brother' spoke, its voice holding clear amusement as it held your chin up. "Yes, but I like them like this." 'Other' stated mischievously, squeezing your form in its grip, earning a slight squeak from you. "W-where am I‽" you blurted out, finally choking out the words stuck in your throat.

"In a void." 'Brother' stated bluntly, its grin widening slyly as it looked you up and down. "But- no- why-" You stammered, trying to lean away from both of them, but you couldn't move much... you were trapped with them. "Relax, little human! We won't hurt you, much~" 'Other' teased, pressing you further into it with a smug expression. "I-I can't stay here! I need to go back!" You exclaimed, trying desperately to reason with them, but it only earned chuckles of amusement. "No, no. You can' leave..." 'Brother' trailed off, both their grips on you tightening possessively...

"You're ours now, human."

————————————————————————

[Oh my god, I contemplated giving up like three times while writing this. This is what happens when I get a prompt and make it up as I go. My notes app says this is like nine pages long too.]

[its-a-snood-silly]

Wenclair Headcanon 🖤🩷

Wednesday realizes her feelings. Pt. 2

Enid’s POV

I can feel my mouth hanging open, but honestly, I don’t care. THE Wednesday Addams just confessed her feelings for me. My brain feels like it’s spinning with a million thoughts, yet is completely blank all at the same time. My chest feels tight and my cheeks feel hot.

Say something, Enid. Anything.

Why can I not form words right now?

“It would be nice if you could say something right now, Enid.” Wednesday says in a tone that’s way too quiet for her usual demeanor. I’d almost go as far as to say she’s showing some shyness right now.

God, she’s probably feeling totes vulnerable right now, say something you spineless furball!

“I- um… I like you too Wednesday. I have for awhile. I just didn’t ever think you’d feel the same way towards me, so.. I buried it and told myself that I can just work it out with Ajax, but… You’re the only person that truly stays on my mind-“

Really Sinclair, freak-a-zoid much?

“Wait- I uh mean… Um…. I mean, I-“ My palm flies up to my forehead in shame. I can tell I’m nervous from how fast I’m talking. She’s totally going to be weirded out.

“You’re the only thing that stays on my mind as well.” her voice says, her tone a bit more confident this time. I can feel myself blushing. The atmosphere around us feels as though it softens, and just as I sense myself moving closer towards her, the bathroom door flies open. Wednesday instinctively jumps back a couple feet, and I can feel my heart racing as I turn around to see who came in. “What on earth is taking so long? What is going on in here?” Professor Lavinia questions.

Omg… How long have we been in here? Class for sure ended a long time ago.

Before I can even form a sentence, Wednesday has already started. “You’ll have to excuse us, Professor. We got carried away in a debate against the effectiveness of being burned at the stake versus hanged. I’m sure you understand, being a history buff yourself,” she says. Professor Lavinia’s jaw clenches, and in that moment I swear you could visually see her pupils narrow. “Watch it, Miss Addams. Inappropriate wasting of time when you should be in class is not a great way to start off the new school year. You both missed the entirety of the orientation presentation. Go on off to where you’re supposed to be. Now!” Lavinia scolds. I lower my head and follow shortly behind Wednesday on the way out. While we’re walking, a sudden wave of euphoria washes over me, and I can’t help but to add a skip in my walk.

“Sooo…. Where are you off to next?” I ask Wednesday, hoping our schedules for this year line up. She glances at me, and then moves her eyes back to the hallway in front of us. “The main office. I have a meeting with advisory to decide on a focused major,” Wednesday replies. I can’t read her tone this time. “Oh-em-gee, you should totes go for Mortuary Science. It just screams Wednesday so perfectly!” I squeal. Wednesday’s jaw tightens. “Enid, please. Can you take it down a notch?” she says, colder infliction this time. “Sorry.. You’re right. Just kind of feeling giddy. You know, after everything that…. Nevermind. Anyways- Good luck at your meeting roomie! I’ll catch you later!” I say, leaving her with a wink. I notice the slightest upturn in her lips. It makes my stomach flutter. As I turn the other way, I catch a glimpse of Yoko and hurry to catch up with her.

“Hey Yoko! First day going great for you too?” I greet, hoping my manneurisms aren’t more enthusiastic than usual. “Oh, as great as lectures, first-day homework assignments and moody outcasts can be. You’re in a good mood. What’s happening in Enid-ville?” Yoko immediately questions.

Oh hell. Am I THAT obvious?

An uncontrollable smile spreads across my face. “It’s been quite a first day, for sure.”

(aaah i don’t know if this is good, it was a bit more challenging writing from enid’s pov! hope u like, more to come xx)

[asterkiss]

Preview of a long oneshot which is a reworking of the setup in Homecoming/Seven Minutes in Heaven which follows the whole "fake dating" scenario between Mabel and Bill in more detail as requested by @korla-the-kenku This bit is just a rework of the first bit of Homecoming which now comes with more humour, Candy and Grenda, and a nice build up to Bill's namedrop. Aiming to have the whole thing out by next week? (We shall see). Haven't got a title for this thing yet.

Mabel Pines, seventeen years old, was proud of who she was. (Even if who she was got classed as “weird” by many of her peers). But so what? The teenager didn’t pay any mind to the whispers behind her back when she made up her own songs and dances in the school hallways; nor did she care when the popular girls giggled and pointed in her direction on the days she wore her homemade sweaters. 

She was weird, and proud of it! And she wasn’t going to change for anyone, let alone a bunch of mean classmates she wouldn’t ever see or hang out with again after graduation.

....Still, when Pacifica Northwest, the most popular girl in town, made constant needling comments every chance she could get, Mabel would be lying if she didn’t say she was frustrated. She may or may not have wished on more than one occasion that the girl would wake up with the biggest pimple on the end of her nose but so far her wishing skills hadn’t mounted to much so she obviously didn’t have that secret superpower.

And when Pacifica had mocked her love life and lack of a date to Homecoming in front of a whole crowd of people, Mabel may have snapped. Just a teensy little bit. Really, it wasn’t that big a deal!

“Actually, I do have a date! And he's great and handsome and even better than your boyfriend, Pacifica!”

Okay, it was a big deal.

‘Urghhhh, why did I say that guys? Whyyyyyyy!?’ The teenager slowly hit her head against her locker repeatedly. Maybe if she did this enough times she’d get minor brain damage and be excused from school for the rest of the year. That would get her out of this conundrum of her own making.

‘You need to stop letting Pacifica get to you,’ Candy replied, swapping out books in her own locker beside. ‘So what if we don’t have dates? It’ll be a fun night either way with just us girls.’

Mabel groaned. ‘You weren’t there. I really exaggerated just how great my date was.’

Grenda, stood on the other side, raised an eyebrow. ‘Like how great? Zac Efron great?’

‘Surely not Chris Hemsworth great?’ Candy asked, starting to look concerned when Mabel didn’t respond immediately.

The brunette glanced down at her feet. ‘More like Henry Cavill great.’

Both girls gasped, grabbing her by the arm and shaking the brunette frantically.

‘But Mabel, we don’t even know anyone that great!’ Candy cried.

‘Yeah, and you’re like the furthest from having a date or boyfriend. Are you forgetting that you got turned down twice last month?’ Grenda added in.

‘Actually, it was three times,’ Candy quipped in as Mabel slouched further and further down between them, expression grim.

‘Gee, thanks.’

Candy offered an apologetic smile. ‘I think you have dug your own grave here, Mabel. I am not sure how we can help you with this one.’

Mabel sighed dramatically. ‘Yeah….’ She’d definitely sealed her fate with the last comment. Pacifica was dating the high school quarterback in typical cliché fashion, and he was a beautiful hottie wrapped up in like, even more hottiness! How was she meant to top that!?

As the bell went off and the trio began making their way to the next class, Candy patted Mabel sympathetically on the shoulder. ‘It will be alright, we have one more year and then we can leave. Right?’

The smaller girl glanced aside to her friend for agreement but found Grenda deep in thought which was unusual. 

‘Grenda?’

The large girl came to a stop, looking towards the pair. She looked serious. ‘Mabel, how badly do you want to one-up Pacifica?’

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Mabel straightened up with imploring eyes as she raised her fists. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes.’

Grenda nodded, placing a firm hand on her shoulder whilst leaning in. ‘Then there’s only one boy I can think of that will work.’

Mabel grinned widely, excitement bubbling in her stomach at the prospect of actually pulling this off. ‘Who!?’

A deep breath. ‘Bill Cipher.’

And just like that the bubble popped, and instead of excitement, it was only uneasiness and anxiety that flowed out. The teenager’s grin faded, and her imploring gaze was now one begging her friend to say “psyche!”. 

But the "psyche" never came. Instead, Candy also placed a hand on the brunette’s other shoulder, offering only a smile of condolence.

‘Good luck, Mabel.’

Well crap.