#i had another ask in my inbox last night but its gone

[misseffect]

oooh let's choose some violence haha how about 5 and 9 (mass effect canon)?

5. Worst discord server

Any shakarian server. I think I've joined and left like 3 at this point. Maybe ship-specific servers are just Like This, maybe it's a shakarian problem or maybe the servers I've found have just been uniquely badly run idk, but they're unhinged in a very specific way which is not at all fun for me.

My good experiences with discord vastly outweigh the bad ones but man. shakarian servers.

9. Worst part of canon

I could talk at length about how much I dislike the paragon path in Garrus's loyalty mission (and I have) but in sum: Shepard physically putting herself in the firing line because she couldn't talk him down was spectacularly shitty and it's wild to me that this is considered a win for Garrus's loyalty.

My soul for a mechanic like Dragon Age: Origins where the companions leave the party if you make a choice they can't abide 🥲

Send me spicy asks about fandom!

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[iridescentparkers]

vanilla palm trees → four - salted caramel kisses

vanilla palm trees → four - salted caramel kisses

summary ⇢ it’s been years, he should get over it, right? but, peter just can’t. he looks up, he sees her. he goes to bed, he dreams of her. he wakes up, he can smell her. he goes out one night and he sees…her. no, not gwen but his ticket to stop moping around on the anniversary of her death. what is meant to be one quick night of putting sadness on the back burner, is now a blossoming new love that feels all too perfect for peter. was this new woman in his life meant to be? or was this just another set of poorly dealt cards that would leave him walking away empty handed. all or nothing, right? ↝ college!au ↝ one night stand gone wrong trope | masterlist

parings ⇢ tasm!peter parker x female reader

warnings ⇢ alcohol use, lots of mentions of death, sexual themes

a/n ⇢ this one is long - 2.5k words, but i think its my favorite so far!!!!! also please lmk what you guys think in my inbox!

“YOU’RE GLOWING,” Harry teased as Peter shut their apartment door last weekend.

Peter Parker found himself slightly swooned by his evening guest. Days would pass, and Peter would find himself daydreaming like a schoolgirl about when he would see her again. The only problem was he forgot to get her number.

Shit. 

He would sit on his couch and open his laptop, watching as the search engine glared back at him. Think, what would be the best place to start? 

The Trenton! 

That has to be her last name. Duh! And what do you know, a Y/N Trenton does exist! Thousands of results show up. You name it, it's there. Even old news articles.

Should he message her on Facebook? No, she’s older but not 40.

Instagram. Great. On his computer, he sees that she has 10k followers and 162 posts. 

Wow. She’s stunning. He shouldn’t, but he scrolls a bit, finding some old photos. Dozens from her USC days where she had blunt bangs and florescent pink lip color. 

Scrolling down, he clicked on one of her at a college party. He scrolled through the page to see the five other pictures on the post until he eventually stopped. The photos were covered in a golden filter, with Y/N practically devouring this one dude's face. 

Maybe not devouring, but she looks pretty happy kissing his face. He was blonde, with light eyes, nothing like Peter. It stung a bit, but it was from 6 years ago. It couldn’t mean anything now. 

But what in the world was he going to say to her? Peter was so lost, he never had to slide into a girl's DM’s. Eww, it was so odd to think about that. 

“Hey,” he typed out before deleting it, maybe three times with varying amounts of y’s and e’s. 

Then there was “Hi,” or “Hiiiiiii,” or “Sup girl.” No, please do not think like Harry. 

“Hi, Y/N. Remember me? Would you like to meet up for lunch this Thursday?”

“That seemed relatively normal. Right?” He murmured under his breath but, he scratched his head as the pondering developed into pure confusion.

“And, send,” Harry announced after hovering over the couch and Peter’s shoulder to send the DM. 

“Harry!” Peter shouted. “Why the hell would you send that?”

Harry grabbed the laptop after hopping over the couch and Peter snarled as he sat by him. 

“I’m just doing you a favor?”

“Really? First, you tell me to put myself out there, which I do. Next, you butt into my personal life, sending messages that I have no idea were a good idea or not! I mean, why can’t you just leave me alone? What if she doesn’t want to see me again!”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Harry smiled, watching the screen from his lap.

“How the hell would you know?”

“Just see for yourself,” he announced as he turned the laptop around. There sat a reply, 2 seconds ago from Y/N.

“I’d love to.” It read, and Peter smiled to himself for his sweet date this week.  

“You’re welcome.”

“HOW’S SCHOOL?” Y/N asked, walking down the New York City street.

“Hard,” Peter informed, walking alongside her. “Finals are coming up before the break, so I’m studying as much as I can before the weekend is over.”

She nodded, turning her body sideways as she slid between moving bodies. 

“Wow, this is so cool!” She smiled, running up to the nearby paper stands. “The new Spiderman comics. My brother loves them, but I have never seen them in person.”

Peter giggles at her fascination with the book, watching as she flips through the colorful pages. “I never read them, but I always see them on the corner.” 

Peter raised his brows as he gazed at the array of colorful printed books, “Wow, there are hundreds of them.”

“I know, but he always gets them as soon as they come out, or they sell out quickly.” She informed as she closed the book. “I’m talking like he’s a 10-year-old kid. He's a little older than you.” 

He laughed, pulled out his wallet, and gave the cashier some change. Her mouth gaped as he executed the gesture, Peter then putting a small hand in front of her. "I insist. What do you think about Spiderman?”

Y/N looked between Peter and the book, her brows furrowing as she looked at Peter, “I think the work he does is cool. I don’t know much about him, but people love him.” 

"Mostly."

"Yeah, but I feel like those who dislike him are just mad at the fact that they don't have super cool web lasers that shoot from their arms," she laughed, making arm gestures to imitate the hero with her hands, and Peter then laughed. "He's making an impact on the city."  

Y/N gestured towards the printed comic in hand, looking at Peter’s expression, “Like at The Trenton, a local artist is doing a sculpture of multiple 3D spiderwebs layered with these comics and Spiderman newspapers.”

“I’d love to see it.” 

“You can. The only thing is, it won't be ready for another 3 weeks. I can take you to the opening,” she informed. “I will say, I think a lot about who he is. Is he a rogue cop? Some sort of scrawny underdog?” 

She spoke as she began putting the book in her bag as Peter paid the cashier. “Whoever he is, I think he’s a hero.” 

He felt a bit flattered at her sentiment, smiling as he listened to her interest in him as what she called “a hero.” Those words left the mouths of few but when they did, Peter filled with gratitude.

The phone in his pocket began to buzz, and Peter lifted it into his palm, “Damn it.” 

"What time is it?"

"A little past one." 

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to make this cake for a friend, and my Aunt says she can’t come over to help me later.” He informed. 

“I could help.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, placing his phone back in his pocket as he hesitated, “Sure.” 

THEY FOUND THEIR WAY BACK TO PETER’S APARTMENT, Y/N giggling as she placed her bag down. “And you thought that was okay?”

Peter rubbed his nose, curling his lips as breathy chuckles fearfully left his lips, “I was 14 and thought the frosted tips were a ‘look.’” 

“It was definitely... a look.” She said, widening her eyes, moving them across the apartment  “Last time we were here, we uh…”

“Yeah,” he laughed, his eyes squinting as they met hers and laughed in a delightful unison. “I could use a drink. Beer?”

“You have nothing else in this house to drink?” She laughed, “College boys, I swear.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, walking over and opening the door to his fridge.

“I’ll take one.”

“And I’ll get this recipe open. Feel free to look around.” 

Y/N moved around the apartment, looking at shelves and trinkets of stored memories between Peter and his roommate. Some shared, and others individualized. She moved to one of their bookshelves, grazing her fingers along the spines of varying albums and books on their shelf. She stopped at the one bright pink book, resting in the corner and drowning in the bland sea of book covers. 

The hot pink album was coated with foam stickers and glitter, some getting on the shelf and Y/N’s hands as she opened the book. 

Flipping to the first page, there sat a picture of Peter receiving a kiss from a girl with platinum blond bangs and pale skin, her fingers painted a baby pink nail color. 

“Who’s this?” 

Peter swallowed, as he placed two beers on the counter. “Gwen.”

“Why do you have this album with her in it?” 

Her tone wasn’t mad, more curious for his answer, “She made it for me when we were together.”

“And you still have it?”

“She passed,” he informed, raising his brows as his hands slid into his front pockets. “Around 6 years ago.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” He repeated, looking at the book in her hands. 

“I overstepped.” She stated, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. 

He shrugged as his lips began to curl further inward on his mouth, “I said you could look around.”

It remained silent as Peter settled more ingredients on his center kitchen aisle, Y/N creeping closer in delicate footsteps, careful in their newfound silence. She sat on the barstool in his kitchen, folding her hands carefully into a neat knot in front of her.

Peter reaches for and guzzles his open beer. He locks his eyes on the ingredients, his long lashes fluttering as the cold liquid slides down his throat. Peter places the empty bottle on his counter, speaking softly as the beer bubbles build in his chest. “Why don’t we make a cake?”

“Okay,” she nods, revealing her smile as she moves to Peter’s side. “What kind?”

“It’s weird, I know, but salted caramel.” He stated, and she jutted her neck backward. “Exactly.”

“Where should I start?”

Peter swiftly travels to the speaker on his bookshelf, blasting rock music and nodding as the beats echo inside his apartment. Y/N’s head finds the beat as the song rushes beats over her stance. 

They whisk themselves around the kitchen, taking turns putting ingredients in the wet and dry bowls as the rhythm picks up under them. Peter reaches for three more drinks, the bottles clinking as they pile up in his trash can, and he wipes his lips free of the smeared alcohol. 

“I didn’t take you for a dancer?" She chuckled as he shook his head on her face, his brown locks tickling her features. 

“Me neither,” he yelled, lifting his head as his words fought with the blasting music. 

With each bottle, his moves got sloppier, and Y/N laughed each time a new move developed in his repertoire. Smiling, his eyes crinkled as he jounced his chest to the down beats of the song. Y/N laughs at his lack of rhythm, and Peter pulls her by her arm to his chest. He whisked Y/N to the kitchen island, swirling her in the air, and settling her down next to the now-panned cake batter. 

He leaned in close, kissing her lips, the wheaty beer taste sizzling on her lips. The kiss was sloppy but sensual as his tongue dipped into her mouth. He pulled her in deeper as his hand slung down to her lower waist, Y/N then pulled away as the oven beeped behind them. 

“The oven,” Y/N whispered as she pulled away. “You should put the cake in.” 

“Right, the cake.”

“WATER?” Peter asked, throwing his body next to Y/N on the couch.

She gave him a knowing look, playfully shoving him as he sat, “You first.”

“Pfft,” he waved, sinking his body on the furniture. “I’m fine.”

His words slurred as his drunken eyes wandered to Y/N’s figure. ”Peter, are sure?” 

He huffed, pointing a finger to his bookcase, “That girl, Gwen. The one you saw earlier in the scrapbook…”

“Her favorite was salted caramel...everything. Salted caramel coffee, salted caramel chocolate, salted caramel ice cream, and especially salted caramel cake. She had it for her birthday every year.” 

“And when is her birthday?”

“Tomorrow.” 

Her lips formed a thin line as she scratched the open part of her chest. She immediately nodded as she pushed her legs from her chest, Peter moving his eyes down her body.  “I don’t want your pity.” 

She raised her brows as she chuckled, the air seeping through her teeth, “I wasn’t going to give you any. Why would you think that?”

“Everyone does.” He wavered. “They all want to tell me where I need to be, when to go out, when to...date. When to talk about her, when not to talk about her.” 

“I mean this, truly, in the nicest way.” She began, placing a hand on his leg. “You said it's been 6 years? Why do you still care about what others think?”

“Because I don’t have much family left,” he informed, slurring his words as he flailed his loose arms in the air. “I need to make them happy.”

“You don’t need to, you want to.” She corrected. “And if they truly loved you, as long as you are happy, they wouldn’t care. At all.” 

“You’re right.” he trailed, “But, I’m not happy. You’re the first date I’ve had in 6 years.”

“You were in high school!” Y/N exclaimed, hitting the back of her hand gently on his shoulder. 

He shrugged,  “I still could have put myself out there in college.”

“Not everyone finds the love of their life in high school and college. Believe me.”

“What does that mean?”

Y/N pursed her lips as she looked towards her feet, “Nothing.”

Peter put a hand on her knee, leaning closer to her figure, “Tell me.”

“I was engaged to a man I met in college,” she began, glancing vaguely at the left hand in her lap. “About three months ago, he died in a car crash.”

Was it the guy from her pictures?

Peter’s expression softened as he reached for her hand, pulling it to his. “M’Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” she began, her voice softening as she avoided eye contact “I found out, the day I met you, he was having an affair with his secretary. And now, she’s asking for some of his things because she claims, 'he loved her too.'” 

 “Y/N”

“Like you said, I don’t want your pity. I’m okay.” 

“I’m too drunk to give pity,” he slurred, drooping his head to her knees, inhaling as he leaned on her body, forcing her to drop her knees, and his head fell in her lap. She ran a gentle hand along his head, rubbing it slowly along his head.

He lazed in the physical contact, before grabbing her hand from his head. He pulled it to his chest, moving it to the cadence of his soft speech, “Vanilla.” 

“What?” she questioned. 

“You smell like her. Gwen,” he began, raising her hand to his nose and inhaling her scent, “Gwen used to wear some perfume. I forgot the name. I think it was like Vanilla Palm Tree or some sugary scent. I only remember she always smelt like Vanilla mixed with…beach.”

She chuckled awkwardly, letting go of his grasp, “Vanilla mixed with beach? Peter, you are drunk.”

“No no,” he assured as his eyes fluttered shut. “It’s… It’s Vanilla Palm Tree.”

“I should leave.”

“It’s why I stayed and brought you home from the bar…”

Y/N felt as the smoke smell rushed through her airways, “You don’t smell that?”

“Smell…smell what..” he muttered as his limbs went limp.

“Peter!” 

Grey lines of smoke trailed the ceiling of his apartment, and Y/N shot up to Peter’s kitchen, “Lightweight...”

[askanimperviouspeach]

Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me, I was the person who roleplayed with you on this account, I wanted to check in and say hi and hru

I AM OK, ALIVE, AND VERY SORRY!!! I am SO sorry for the inactivity and for basically ghosting the rp. I recently moved, and it was hell. then a year later we moved again, into a lesser hell but still hell. then a few months later another move but into our dream home! Busy is the biggest factor in why I went poof, be gone. to be completely honest, i have been going through the worst of art blocks. its now lasted a year and is still affecting me mentally, i had left art college because pursuing art as a job just... it really fucked me up ngl. Lately, it HAS been slowly getting better, as now our family in a more stable and amazing house (that i find frogs in the backyard every night, its literally heaven on earth) i've been able to recover No, my family life isnt unstable, no we arent financially destitute, and nO i dont have any mentally debilitating conditions (none that i can see and never been diagnosed). I say this so no one is disillusioned, I just had a long rough patch and consciously knew i had been neglecting my blogs, i just couldn't figure out how to get back into it. Procrastination really to you specifically, redzirpinkasmt, i am deeply sorry for falling off like that. There is no excuse. I know how annoying and maybe even scary it is to have a rp partner suddenly disappear, to be frank i didn't even know you responded. thats how out of it I was and i wont let that happen again, everyone at least gets a small message to ensure them they are heard and not ignored from now on. And im grateful you checked in i think thats very sweet and thoughtful.

Now finally, as the blog itself i have no idea if i will be continuing it. i want to. but I dont know if i will commit. when i first started it i never imagined this could be so demanding. and i guess im the one who made it demanding, lol. i have a tendency to make things harder on myself than need be. but should i start posting, things are gonna be D I F F E R E N T LIKE, VERY DIFFERENT. and WAY more laid back, with no exact timeline. The blog may have been neglected but the characters have been thought about a lot. VERY different, but I like them now. to give you guys a taste, ripper is no longer the bad guy. its morally ok to simp for her now/lol. anyway, ive been meaning to make this update for a long time but didnt have it in me. a few weeks ago, this would have had me sobbing. now im doing better and realizing that this should be a fun lil thing to do on the side. maybe ill start posting doodles or lil text stories, make this blog more casual. i dont know yet, but what i do know is that im very grateful for those who stuck around, and those who still send asks and like my stuff. IF i continue the blog, the asks i have in my inbox WILL be answered, dont worry. but they will be answered by the newer versions of these characters, the "rebooted" I'll call em. Anyways, thank you all and i wish you all a good night/day. also, gem galaxies controversy has led me to not play that game anymore. wont get into it now as this post is long enough but yeah, thought i should mention that

[fratboykate]

Papicito, we need more of them being apart. The angst must be so juicy when Yelena is in Russia.

Idk if this is “juicy” but it’s...something. Have 3.1k I wrote in like half an hour because it’s been a while and you guys are blowing up my inbox asking for more haha.

///

Kate paces back and forth on the space between her couch and the coffee table. In an attempt to quell her restlessness, she reaches down and kills the half a glass of wine she set down next to her open computer. Once all the liquid is gone, she stares at the empty cup in her hand sullen, huffs, then antsily paces again.

Moments later, the notification of an incoming Facetime call pops up on her laptop screen, along with the accompanying series of melodic dings. Kate freezes and glares at the alert, transfixed by the weight of its meaning. She remains immobile long enough that the call fails. When that happens, Kate snaps out of her trance-like state.

She hastily rushes to the phone that charges atop one of the side tables flanking the couch and sends a two-word, concise text that reads: "Call again."

Soon afterward, another Facetime call alert pops up on the display. Kate initially remains fixed on the spot where she stands, but after a beat of lingering, she rushes to sit across from the computer and clicks the green button right as the call is about to fail again.

Yelena materializes on screen. Despite her hair being in a braid, Kate can tell her blonde locks are longer. The difference in length is significant enough for Kate to know the older woman hasn't had a haircut in the four months she's been gone. However, that’s not the most noticeable change in her appearance. Yelena’s face looks...older. Her features have, without question, aged more than they should have after only not seeing them for a handful of months. Kate surveys her ex-girlfriend intently. The woman staring back at her is indubitably Yelena, but she doesn't look like herself. Even when she was being a curmudgeon, Yelena had a spark. Her spirit was effervescent, but that ebullience Kate has become intimately familiar with is now gone. A piece of Yelena is missing.

After a long, sustained silence where neither makes a sound, Yelena faintly grunts, awkwardly clears her throat, and takes the initiative.

"Hello, Kate Bishop." Yelena utters with apprehension. Kate gapes at the screen, then, after a moment, she rushes to her feet and begins to pace anew, only coming in and out of view as she crosses the camera. "You're going to make one of us dizzy."

Kate bends at the waist, her stoic face ending up an inch away from the camera, effectively filling the entirety of Yelena's screen.

"Don't try to be funny. You don't get to be funny."

"Funny is not what I was going for."

"You left."

"I know."

"You abandoned me."

"I know."

"You abandoned HER. She cried. Every night. For weeks. She refused to sleep because you weren't here to do a story. You could've fucked me over any day and I could've maybe been okay with it, but you hurt her and I can't forgive that."

"I know."

"I can't fucking forgive you."

"That's okay, Kate. I wanted to do this, even if it was so you could scream at me. You deserved that much."

"What I deserved...what she deserved was for you not to bail. That's what we deserved."

"You're right."

Somehow those words exacerbate Kate’s irateness.

"Stop being so fucking agreeable! This isn't you!"

"Everything you're saying is right. There's nothing for me to disagree with."

"Fuck you."

Kate slams the computer shut with fervent spite. She plops onto the cushions, leans back on the couch, and buries her face into her hands. After mere seconds, she reopens her laptop and Facetimes Yelena back. Yelena answers almost immediately.

"You're a piece of shit."

"I am and I'm sorry."

"How long did you know? That you were leaving? How long were you lying to me?"

"I bought and canceled my plane tickets so many times during those months, Kate."

"HOW. LONG?!"

"The last time I bought them? Two weeks before I left."

"Did you ever tell them you weren't going to take the job? Did you ever give them any indication that you might stay?"

"No."

Kate isn’t certain if she should be pleased or upset at the fact that Yelena didn’t hesitate to offer that answer.

"So you didn't lie to them, but you lied to me." Kate scoffs bitterly. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"You're not."

"I opened up my life to you. Ri's life."

"We knew it was a mistake, Kate. You said we'd cross that bridge when we got there, but we always knew I was leaving."

Kate’s vexation grows exponentially at how blasé Yelena comes across while making that statement.

"You didn't even give me a chance to cross the fucking bridge because you decided to light it on fucking fire!"

"You have every right to hate me."

If Kate were a balloon, all the air would've leaked out of her at the sound of those words. She tips back on the couch and crosses her arms over her chest.

"If I fucking hated you, it wouldn't hurt this much. I wish I hated you. Every day."

"I love you," Yelena remarks without a second thought. 

"Don't say that to me." Kate demands, unflinching. "You lost every right to say that to me."

"I know I did. It doesn't mean it's not true." Yelena takes a beat, then chuckles. "I called your sister. *I* called your sister. Do you have any idea how awkward that conversation was?"

"'Awkward' is not the worst thing you deserve."

"I know."

"Stop with the whole...‘nice’ bullshit. Just stop. It's driving me fucking crazy. Be an asshole. That I know how to deal with."

"I have no reason to be an asshole at the moment."

"That's never stopped you before."

Yelena cracks a smile, but it quickly fades.

"I'm sorry...for everything. I'm sorry, Kate."

"Too late."

"That's fair."

Kate groans, frustrated by Yelena’s newfound affable disposition. 

"I can't deal with this stupid version of you right now."

Kate slams the computer shut yet again, and an instant later, she’s curled up on a ball on the couch, mascara-laden tears staining her forearms and cushions.

---

Days go by. Neither of them attempts to make contact, but this doesn’t mean Yelena isn’t all Kate thinks about. Kate stands by her kitchen counter, absentmindedly staring at the open bottle of wine and the empty glass in front of her. Kate’s mind meanders to one of those mornings when Ereka was away with Tom and Yelena spent hours exploring her body all over this apartment. Kate is regretfully yanked away from the memories of the Russian’s lips roaming her most erogenous spots and back to the dreary present by large, rough hands. The arms snake around her waist and a prickly, bearded face presses against the back of her neck as it peppers her skin with lazy kisses. 

“All her worksheets are done. I triple-checked this time.”

Tom pulls Kate flush against his chest and Kate forces a smile. 

“Thank you.”

Despite her thoughts being elsewhere, Kate’s body betrays her and she instinctively opens up her neck, offering Tom more access to her nape. He gleefully welcomes the reciprocation of affection and leaves a trail of kisses from Kate’s clavicle to her earlobe.

“Dying to be inside you already.” Kate only offers a noncommittal ‘hmmm’ in response. “I love you so goddamn much, KitKat. You make me happy.”

“Did you tell her she needs to take a bath before bed tonight? Non-negotiable.”

Tom nods against Kate’s skin as he continues to press soft kisses behind her ear while he sways their bodies in place.

“She’s picking her pajamas right now. Said she would let me know when she’s ready then we can do bath time.”

“So I’m the only one she gives grief to when it comes to baths. I see.”

“I could do bath time every night if I moved back in.”

Kate forces her head forward, removing his lips from her neck, and endeavors to fill the glass of wine before taking a big gulp. 

“I have to send some emails. Put her hair in a bun and don’t let it get wet. It’s too late for her to have damp hair. I’ll wash it tomorrow.”

Kate tries to extract herself from the embrace, but Tom reels her back, keeping her in place. 

“It’s eight. Why would you need to send emails now?”

“I schedule them for the morning.”

“Or...you could stay right here and send them in the morning.” Kate sighs. Tom spins her around, forcing her to face him. He examines her features intently. “You’re so fucking hot...Hotter than a fajita plate coming out of a restaurant kitchen.”

A faint smile appears on Kate’s face as she rolls her eyes. 

“You’ve been saying that since we were eighteen. You need to find a new line.”

“If it’s not broken, don’t break it.”

Kate exhales and budges, leaning her forehead against his cheek. Tom draws her even closer, pulling her against his toned body before his hands come to rest on her ass.

“A little variety would be nice, tho.”

Tom chuckles and plants a kiss on Kate’s forehead.

“I’ll try to work on it.”

“DADDY! I DON’T KNOW IF I WANT RAINBOWS OR PANDAS!”

Ereka hollers from her room, with a twinge of frustration coating her voice. Tom looks down at Kate. 

“Which one does she like better?”

“Why is she even looking at the rainbows? She hates those pajamas. Thinks they’re itchy and takes them off in the middle of the night, then comes to my bed because she’s cold.”

“DADDY!”

“I’m thinking!” Tom smiles and places a tender peck on Kate’s lips. “Definitely don’t want her in our bed tonight, so...Wear the pandas, bunny bear. That one’s really pretty.”

“OKAY! WE CAN DO BATH NOW!”

“Things she’s never ever everrrrr said to me.” Kate grouses under her breath, making Tom cackle in response.

“I guess daddy has the magic touch because she’s never given me grief about it. I’m the bath time king.”

Kate could refute that assertion by telling him Ereka would go as far as volunteering for baths if Yelena was in charge of the morning or bedtime routine, but she’s not cruel, so she won’t.

“Unreal.” Kate takes a step back and shoves Tom in the direction of the bedrooms. “Go. Go. Before she changes her mind...I need to shower too but I’ll come in for a story.”

Tom nods and steals one last kiss before begrudgingly tearing himself away from Kate and jogging to Ereka’s bedroom. By the giggling and shrieking that swiftly fills the apartment, Kate knows he starts tickling the little girl the moment he gets to her. 

Kate sighs and hangs her head. She’ll never complain about her daughter laughing; she merely wishes the person making her laugh was someone else. Alas, that is an impossibility because that someone is currently thousands of miles away. 

Kate wipes the corner of her eye, removing the stray tear that threatened to escape before it ever got a chance to. Once the tears start, it’s hard to make them stop and her night is not over. She can’t allow herself to go there. Not yet.

---

Tom hovers by the door while he slides his jacket on. His hair is disheveled, his lips are plump from kissing, and that mark on his neck might look faint now, but it'll be decidedly glaring come morning. Kate might have let her frustrations out a little TOO hard on that one.

Tom closes the distance and kisses Kate with abandon. She allows it and Tom seizes the opportunity, stretching the moment out while she doesn't pull herself away. Before long, the intensity starts to escalate. 

"I can come back inside. I want to. I want you." 

Tom mumbles between kisses, but Kate shakes her head then breaks the kiss.

"I have work to do."

Kate takes a firm step back. 

“If you let me stay until morning, I could take breakfast duty off your plate. She loves my pancakes.”

“I’m not having this conversation again.”

Tom tuts histrionically.

“I just don’t understand the rules for when I’m allowed to sleep over and when I’m not. And I don’t get how her waking up to me here is any more confusing than going to bed with me here?”

“If you’re going to do this every time, then bedtime privileges might go away. You can’t be here when she wakes up and that’s always going to be my final answer.”

Tom offers a forlorn sigh and leans to sneak in one last kiss while bringing his hands to his groin to readjust the newly formed erection he’s now forced to go home with.

"Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Yeah."

“I love you, KitKat.”

“Put your gloves on. It’s cold.”

Kate offers an empty smile and closes the door as soon as he’s an inch beyond the threshold.

---

Kate sits in bed with her computer on her lap. Miffed by the poor quality of the work, she selects and deletes everything she’s typed. From the corner of her eye, Kate peeks at the charging phone on her nightstand. She turns her attention to the clock on her computer. 12:47 AM. That means it's almost 9:00 AM in Russia. Yelena is doubtlessly awake.

Kate is unsure of what comes over her, but she pushes her computer away, reaches for the phone, and Facetimes Yelena.

Kate readjusts her hair and shirt multiple times, yet the call goes unanswered. Kate is markedly crestfallen and marginally piqued. She tosses the phone aside and grumbles under her breath. She doesn’t have to be peeved for long, seeing as not two minutes later, Yelena's face pops up on her phone. Kate swiftly answers the incoming call. The brunette is not able to get a word in and downplay her motives because Yelena is talking as soon as the call connects. 

"Hey. Are you okay? Is everything okay?"

Kate picks up on the genuine concern in Yelena's voice and how flustered she looks. It softens her on the spot.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'm...yeah...I don't know why I called. Sorry."

"No. No. It's okay."

"I'm sure I interrupted your morning."

"You didn't."

"Where are you? Why are you whispering?"

"Hiding in some cafe bathroom. I was walking to work but walking down the street having a loud conversation in American English right now is...uh...not smart. Especially for me. For many reasons. This was the closest private place I could find."

"So I did interrupt your morning."

Yelena snickers with a smile.

"Minor detour."

"I'm sorry. I didn't think that I might be putting you in danger."

"Don't apologize. Things are just...complicated."

"Are you safe?...Really?"

Yelena ponders for a beat, then nods. 

"I'm not in any immediate danger...That I know of."

Kate’s chest tightens at the idea of any harm coming to Yelena.

"That's not reassuring."

"There are many reasons why it's not entirely safe for me here, Kate."

"And yet you still left." The words come out exponentially more bitter than Kate intended.

"I knew that before I ever got on a plane. It's a choice I made because it's all bigger than me."

"Right. Sure."

Kate and Yelena sit silent for a long moment, neither knowing where to take the conversation from here.

"I have to go, Kate. But I'm glad I got to see you and hear your voice."

"Yeah. I'm sorry I bothered you. Have a good day."

Kate is about to hang up when...

"Kate...Kate...wait. Please. First, you didn't bother me. You're never a bother."

"If the you from a few months ago could hear you now."

They both laugh and for a split second, the heaviness dissipates.

"Okay, maybe 'never' is a stretch, but you definitely weren't a bother today." Kate nods in silence and Yelena dawdles, working up the courage to get to the next thing she wants to say. "I know I lost every right to ask and I'll understand if you don't answer, but...how is she? Is she okay?"

Yelena sees Kate harden, if only ever so slightly.

"She's fine."

That's all Kate offers.

"Okay. Good. She's a good kid."

"She is."

"I really have to go."

Kate hesitates but ultimately relents, allowing her concern to reveal itself for a fleeting second. 

"Please stay safe."

"I'll do my best."

Yelena flashes an honest grin before ending the call.

---

Some sixty hours pass and Kate has not managed to get a second of sleep. The idea of Yelena being in any danger has perturbed Kate to the point of insomnia. Regardless, the exhaustion she now carries down to her bones is not why she hasn’t heard a single word that’s been said in this meeting. The reason is that Yelena’s smile is seared in her mind’s eye since she saw it again a little over two days ago. It’s been impossible to think about anything except wanting, NO...needing, to see it once more. 

Kate is unable to control herself and picks up the phone that sits face down on the conference table to shoot a quick text.

TEXT: "Still alive?"

Kate’s heart rate accelerates when the three dots promptly appear in the app. She fidgets with her fingers as Yelena types whatever response she’s composing. 

Yelena fires back a photo of herself in boxers and a tank top in what must be her new apartment. Everything in the background is still mostly boxed up, but Kate recognizes a few things that aren't. Yelena sits on the floor, surrounded by open folders filled with papers in every direction.

TEXT: "My body? Yes. My mind and spirit? Not so much. Russian law is even more tedious than American. Also, I'm learning that my Russian was either not as good as I thought or way rustier than I want to admit because I waste hours translating things and they still don't make sense half the time."

Kate’s lips inadvertently curve upwards as she studies the image. The smile is still present when she begins to type her response.

TEXT: "Just needed to make sure you weren't dead and buried in some remote oil field."

TEXT: "Still kicking. No one’s going to be using my liquefied remains to power up their post-apocalyptic truck in a few thousand years."

Kate musters up a smidge of self-control and stops herself from replying. At least she's reassured that Yelena is safe and that knowledge alone is enough for the younger woman to feel some of the tension she’s been holding onto melt away from her body.

This exchange is the catalyst for the routine of Kate checking in every day to ensure Yelena is alive. This ostensibly innocuous interaction leads to them talking more and more, which in turn leads to the eventual rekindling of their relationship. 

[star-railfanboy]

Hello everyone who comes acrossed this. I wanted to share my Honkai Star Rail oc. A small update on the requests I have in my inboxes they are coming slowly but surely as well as some other writings. Underneath the cut will be a sketch I made of him as well as some info about him. If you wish to know more about him or anything feel free to ask. I'm also more than happy to hear about other's ocs as well. Anyways I hope you have a wonderful day or night.

Name: Vio

Gender: Male

Affiliation: Astral Express.

Background information about him: Vio thinks he is the last person left from his planet since he joined the express before his planet had been destroyed by a stellaron. His people were very prideful and hate accepting any help from outsiders. Some members of his kind had some abilities that were unique. He was one of them. They could heal others as change their emotions using music in some cases it puts someone under a charmed effect as their voices can be enchanting. They followed the Aeon of Harmony when the world was still around.

Their powers had massive drawbacks such as super hearing. They also couldn't use their ability to its fullest extent unless they make a contract to another. The contracts were made to help them maintain their sanity as their hearing and ability is said to corrupt their soul. The contracts also shouldn't be made with someone who is corrupted. The contract allows to link their soul to another. Though that person isn't effected much by the contract other than a small mark those who are like vio are. Such as if the person who has the mark dies their life is as good as gone as well.

Vio had asked Himiko to make his headphones to help him with his heightened hearing.

Basic Info: Vio is a very caring person. He learned medicine and is willing to use his powers to heal anyone that needs it. He is the self proclaimed doctor of the express. He is very useless in a fight if he's the one that has to land blows. However if support is what you need he is your guy. He can heal and buff you with his music. The element he uses is electric.

Things he likes: he loves playing the viola, sweets and tea.

Things he dislikes: loud noise, arrogant people and bugs

That's all I got for now

[messers-moony]

My Everything | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: When five marauders goes to two within the instance of a day. Two children are left without fathers and a wife is left without a husband.

Request: Sirius Black x Wife!reader reuniting and she's Remus sister

A/N: My first Harry Potter request. I got so excited to see this in my inbox and I hope it isn’t the last :)

Perhaps it was the feeling of betrayal she felt when he was finally gone. The fact that everything he’d ever said was a lie. She couldn’t help but think maybe his vows were a lie too. The five Marauders were now two. Only two left. How did this even happen? 

The unbreakable group of five. James Potter, the so-called leader of them all. The mom friend who always made sure everyone was okay and cared for. Sirius Black, the second in command. The mischievous, charismatic troublemaker who was always in detention. Peter Pettigrew, the outcast of them all. The shy and naive boy who gave them all a sense of logic. Remus Lupin, the intelligent and solace of them all. The only boy smart enough not to get caught. Y/n Lupin, the creative and sneaky one. The only one who could sneak and out of the Potions cabinet without Slughorn noticing. 

Now it was just the Lupin twins who, as Sirius called them, the “Linking Lupins.” It was hard in the beginning. First-year was difficult. All they had was each other. Lyall hadn’t really been accepting in the first place, but Hope was always blissfully unaware of her son's problem. All she knew was that he had to go away once a month. Lyall cursed himself out every night that Remus went away, cursing himself for letting this happen to his son. 

The cries of his baby girl begging for her brother. The wails of Y/n pleading for Remus not to go away. Not wanting to let go of him, hearing Remus from inside the room in the basement begging to be let out. Sobbing, crying for his mum or his dad to let him out, praying that the wolf doesn’t take over. Whimpering at how much it hurts the way his bones dislocate and relocate back together in a new way. 

So yeah, first year was challenging. But Dumbledore had a safe place for him to go every evening of the full moon, and Y/n would be there when he woke up every time. Remus relished in the way her hands felt in his. They were so soft compared to his calloused ones. So gentle compared to his often rough movements. Small compared to big. She was everything he wasn’t, and he was happy about that. 

James Potter was the first to talk to them with his flamboyant nature. His eyes were the lightest of browns with spotted glittering green. His smile was perfect and straight. How could someone’s smile be that way at the ripe age of eleven? Despite his aura screaming, “I’m the popular kid, and you’re the loser,” he was actually quite nice. 

Upon looking at James, the Lupin twins both thought of trouble. They remembered the popular kids from their muggle school before this one, how they used to belittle Remus for his scars and how Y/n used to push them away. So, forgive them for being a little cautious around him. It didn’t help that James’ counterpart was the opposite of them both. 

Sirius Black, lanky and confident. This boy had no boundaries and absolutely no limits. If he wanted it, he was going to get it. His eyes were the purest iron, and his smile was white like quartz. Hair black as coal and personality as gregarious as the color wheel. His style was toned back, but his character could’ve put the color wheel to shame with how bright he was. Sirius Black could’ve been the antonym to Remus and Y/n Lupin. 

During second year they found another boy who was being beaten by Slytherins for his scarlet and golden robes. He was stocky, and it seems that he was pretty timid. His blond hair was disheveled, and his blue eyes full of fright. Y/n had stepped in front of him just like she had Remus from the bullies back in muggle school. Her wand was held tight in her grip as she stared at them. 

“What are you gonna do, Loony Lupin?” One of them snarled. 

“Aguamenti.” 

The Slytherins were now covered in water. Damp like they had all taken a shower with their clothes on. Their black robes turned a shade darker. The evergreen accents turned olive, and the silver turned into grey. The main Slytherin boy gritted his teeth, and his icy eyes stared into Y/n’s e/c ones. 

“You’ll pay for that.”

Y/n pocketed her wand in her robes, smiling sweetly, “I’m sure I will. Now, run along before I do something worse.”

They didn’t want to obey, but they also didn’t want to stay in that situation. The Slytherins scurried off like dogs following their owner's command. Y/n fixed her hair with her hand and turned around. She was offering her soft hand to the boy who was frozen, shocked, staring at her. Hesitantly he gripped her hand, allowing her to pull him up. She was only slightly shorter than him. 

“Y/n Lupin.” She introduced, “You are?”

“Pe- Peter Pettigrew.”

Y/n bowed playfully, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Peter.” 

“Pleasure.” Peter muttered shyly as her group of friends approached. 

Remus swung an arm around her shoulders, “You’re bloody brilliant, you know?”

“Our star.” Sirius swooned jokingly as Y/n punched his shoulder, causing him to pout, “Who’s this?” James queried, looking at Peter, who cowered under the hazel-eyed gaze. 

“Boys,” Y/n smiled brightly, “This is our new member of the Marauders. Peter Pettigrew.”

Peter fiddled with his hands anxiously, “New- New member?”

“Mhm!” Y/n hummed, “You’re our new addition.”

James smiled, “Any friend of Y/n’s is a friend of ours. Welcome, Peter.”

From then it went from four to five. Peter never really stopped thanking them for letting him in. For the first time, Peter felt at home, and it was thanks to Y/n. He realized how kind she was, how creative she was. It was so strange. The group was so different, like extraordinarily diverse, yet they worked together so well. Y/n and Remus seemed to be the brains of things. James and Sirius seemed to be the trouble makers. Peter just did his own thing but always contributed. 

In fifth year Remus started to worry. Everyone was so secretive. They stopped hanging around as much, even his sister. It hurt. It really hurt to see them seeking around on the map that he and Y/n created together for the most part. It wasn’t until during the winter break did Y/n finally realize what they were doing affected them. 

Remus barely cried. Or at least that’s what people made it out to seem. Remus actually cried a decent amount. He was snuggled up in his room. His blanket encasing him, and his arms held around his pillow tightly, gripping it as if it’d leave him like he felt everyone else was. His heart felt broken. Y/n was outside his door, hearing his soft cries, and gently knocked on the door. 

“Rem. Can I come in, please?”

He didn’t say anything, so she just let herself in. The door closed behind her with a click, and she saw her tall brother curled up into the tightest ball with silver streams on his cheeks. Y/n sat in front of him and rubbed the side of his arm. Remus’ eyes continue to release water like a dam that had been broken. He couldn’t swallow it no matter how hard he tried. 

“What’s wrong, Rem?”

Remus didn’t say anything. He just dug his head deeper into the pillow he was holding. Y/n’s hand made its way to his sandy-colored hair. She was scratching at the scalp and smoothing his hair away from his face keeping the strands from getting wet. Her hand hesitantly reached his cheek and wiped away the tears that kept falling. 

She sighed, “Remus, please.”

“You’re- you’re gon’ leave me, aren’ you.” Remus choked. 

“Leave you?” Y/n questioned softly, afraid if she raised her voice any more, it’d make things worse, “I wouldn’t leave you if I was given a chance, Remmy.”

He sniffled, “You- you haven’ been a- around.”

“I know.” Y/n soothed, caressing his cheek, “But there’s an explanation for it. James, Sirius, Peter, and I have been distant. We know that. But there’s a reason for it. You’ll find out soon.”

Remus’ eyes met his sister's warm e/c ones, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.” 

He smiled gently. The corners of his lips barely curled, but she knew it was there. Remus had fallen asleep with his sister's hand in his hair. When she was sure he was sleeping, Y/n left the bedroom, allowing him to sleep peacefully. Then she wrote a letter to James where she knew Sirius was staying too. 

One more week, Y/n thought. One more week of this Mandrake leaf in their mouths until they could be done with this. 

It took another month before it was ready. Before they were ready. They were in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom when they started. James started first. When he turned into a stag, they all began laughing. James turned back, pouting. Sirius turned second into a huge black dog. Y/n smiled and petted his head. 

“Very fitting, Sirius.”

Sirius turned back, letting Peter turn next. He was so tiny that Sirius almost stepped on him. James and Y/n sniggered at their rat friend. Next was Y/n, who turned into a graceful cat. Her fur was black, and her eyes were a striking e/c. James smirked and nudged Sirius. 

“Matching animagus’, eh?”

Sirius scowled, “Cats and dogs don’t match.”

Y/n turned back, “Don’t they?”

“Ready for this full moon?” James asked them all. 

“‘Course!”

“Yep!”

“Can’t wait.”

That full moon was better than them all. Remus had people to join him. There was something that he noticed, though. Every time he’d get close to the cat, the dog would growl and stand in front of her. It was like the dog was protecting what was his. Y/n noticed it too. Every time Remus got close, Sirius stood in front of her, keeping him at a safe distance. 

It wasn’t until a quiet night in the Marauders dorm did Remus finally bring it up, “Sirius.”

“Remus.”

“How long?”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, “How long what?”

“You know,” Remus moved his hand in a circular motion for him to continue, “How long have you liked my sister?”

“Woah, Remus.” Sirius stated in shock, “That’s quite the accusation.”

Remus tilted his head, “Is it?”

“Yeah. It is.” Sirius replied, “Y/n is my friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“So, you not sleeping with any girls for the past year is just a coincidence?” Remus questioned knowingly, “You staring at her during class and parties is just on accident?”

Sirius’ cheeks went pink, “And it’s definitely a coincidence that you always hug her first after every Quidditch match.”

“Okay, fine, fine.” Sirius confessed, “I like Y/n. I have for a while.”

“So why haven’t you asked her out?”

“Excuse me?”

Remus shrugged, “Why haven’t you asked her out yet? You know she enjoys going to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks.”

“Mate, have you forgotten we’re talking about your sister?” Sirius asked, “Like your twin sister?”

“I know.” Remus replied, “She likes you too, you know.”

Sirius’ eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. How in the name of Merlin was Remus so calm about this? He said it so casually as if they were talking about the weather. Sirius expected Remus to get angry or throw a book at him. 

“Are you- Are you giving me permission to date your sister?”

“As long as you don’t hurt her, sure.”

Sirius hesitated before asking his next question, “Can you help me do it?”

Remus smirked, “Casanova of Hogwarts can’t ask out Y/n?”

“Please, Remus.” Sirius begged, “I really like her, and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Remus snorted, “You always fuck things up.”

“That’s why I need you!” 

Remus just smirked triumphantly. 

“Pleaaaseeeeeee.”

“Alright, fine.” Remus relented, “Just be cool about it, yeah? Take her to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. She’d enjoy that a lot. Maybe take her to Tomes and Scrolls.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Remus rolled his eyes, “Now shut up. ‘M tired.”

The following day Sirius and Y/n did go to Hogsmeade together. She was amazed when they went into Honeydukes together. She picked out some of her favorite sweets and some for Remus since the full moon was a week away. When she went to pay for it, Sirius pushed her hand away, paying for it himself. Y/n wouldn’t stop thanking him. 

Next, they went to Tomes and Scrolls. On any ordinary occasion, Sirius would’ve hated this. Truth be told, he wasn’t really a reader or a book person in general. But for her, he’d do absolutely anything. Y/n picked out some new books and began raving to Sirius about one in particular. So again, Sirius paid for them and told her to find a table in the Three Broomsticks. 

Sirius went to the area where the book she was raving about was found. He grabbed one for himself, planning to read and annotate it for her. Maybe he’d give it to her as a birthday gift or just a random gift. Nonetheless, he knew she’d love it, and Sirius would fall off a cliff if she asked him to. 

Inside he found her sitting with a hot chocolate and a butterbeer for himself. Sirius slid into the booth smiling at her. They talked about everything and anything. Sirius even went as far as to tell her some stuff about his family the other guys didn’t know about. He went on about how he envied Remus and her relationship wanting the same thing with Regulus. 

Sirius told her how he wanted his future to look. How many tattoos he wanted. Where he wanted to live. How many children he wanted. So on and so forth. He was so open and so honest it surprised her. Generally, if someone asked Sirius what he wanted his future to look at, he’d just shrug. Now he was spilling everything to her. 

It didn’t take long after that for them to become official. Remus smiled when she announced it. He was happy for her. Remus could see how happy Sirius made her, and for that, he was grateful that someone could take care of her in his absence. Y/n only wanted that for him too. One day she’d have a family, and Remus wouldn’t be her main priority. That scared her because, for all seventeen years of her life, it was just her and Remus. 

After graduating from Hogwarts, they got married. It wasn’t anything huge, especially with Voldemort on the rise, but it happened. James was Sirius’ best man, and Marlene was Y/n’s maid of honor. Remus walked Y/n down the aisle and gently kissed her cheek before letting her go. Seeing Sirius and Y/n get married made James overjoyed to marry Lily, but that would happen all in due time. 

So what was it that made her feel this way? Was it the betrayal? Was it the dishonesty? Was it the disloyalty? What was it in truth? The moment Sirius was locked away in Azkaban, everything changed. When Remus heard about it, she was his first stop. Inside he saw her with a baby on her lap. Their baby boy, just a year old. He was born only months before Harry. 

Little Perseus Sirius Black. Y/n’s pride and joy. He was everything to her. Remus had walked into the house seeing his broken sister holding her child close to her as he cried. Remus walked in and gently took the child from her arms, allowing her to lean on his shoulder as he held Perseus. The little boy smiled at the familiar face of his uncle. 

“Rem!” 

Remus smiled softly, “Hey, Perseus.”

It took a long time for Y/n to collect herself. Remus had taken a spot in the house since he couldn’t find a place by himself. Y/n worked at the ministry most days, and Remus would take care of her little troublemaker. As Perseus grew, he looked more and more like his mother. The same e/c eyes and h/c hair. The only thing that made him look like a Black was his defined body and facial structure. 

The sharp jawline, the defined nose, the straight cheekbones, the semi-hollow cheeks, and the pointed chin. His features were that of the Noble House of Black, yet he could’ve made his way to look like a Lupin even more. For a while, Y/n worked a lot. She was trying to keep her family afloat. But it wasn’t until Remus said he got a job offer at Hogwarts did she have to stop. Working for her felt like nothing. Every day she was worried about Perseus going to school. Especially with Sirius being out of Azkaban. 

The night that Remus saw Peter Pettigrew on the map, he knew something was wrong and sent Y/n and owl for her to come to Hogwarts. Without hesitation, she did. On the night of that full moon, she was also down in the Shrieking Shack, holding Harry close to her, not wanting him to get hurt. When everything got resolved, she cried. 

Y/n went home that night rethinking everything. A week later, Remus and Perseus returned home. She couldn’t remember holding Percy that tight ever. Y/n was just thankful that he was safe and he was home. That night that Y/n and Remus told Percy what really happened, why his father was never really in the picture. 

A year later is when Perseus finally met his father - well, that he can remember. He was fifteen now, going into his fifth year at Hogwarts when Y/n and Remus took him to Grimmauld Place 12. It felt foreign, and it felt evil. Needless to say, Percy didn’t like the place. Inside, Sirius was waiting for them along with many others. 

When the door opened and shut gently, he knew it was her. For the first time in over twelve years, he’d be allowed with his wife again. The woman he loved and the woman he felt the most solace with. He’d also see the boy that he used to know grown up into a young adult. The young gentleman Sirius always wanted. 

Perseus stood in front of her, Y/n’s hands on his shoulders. Sirius almost chuckled at it. Percy was protecting her even if she didn’t know it herself. He stood in front of her for a reason, to make sure she’d be safe. Sirius stood in front of them, swallowing harshly. 

“Remus, Y/n.” He choked on the last name.

“Good evening Sirius.” Remus greeted politely, “How have you been?”

Sirius shuffled, “I’ve been better.”

Remus hugged him, whispering in his ear, “Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey, Siri.” Y/n smiled with tears in her eyes, “Hey, love.”

Gently she walked in front of Percy and hugged him tightly. Sirius’ arms went around her waist, and his nose dug into her hair. The scent of her perfume and shampoo calming his nerves slightly. Y/n dug her head into his neck and placed her arms around him. They pulled away and smiled. Gently he kissed her forehead. 

“I’m sorry for believing that you would ever,” She looked down, “You know.”

Sirius picked her chin back up gently, “You have nothing to be sorry for, love.”

Y/n kissed his lips softly. His lips were far from how she remembered. They were no longer soft and tasted of smoke. Instead, they were chapped and tasted of firewhiskey. Perhaps some things never change. Their lips melded together perfectly, just as they did so many years ago. They pulled apart, smiling brightly. She pulled from his embrace to stand by his side. 

“Sirius, this is-“

“Perseus, I know.” 

Perseus smiled nervously; they had the same smile, the same straight smile, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

It was silent for a while as Perseus shuffled, “Are you- are you staying this time?”

“I’d like to.” Sirius replied, “I’m not quite sure the extent of my living abilities, but I’ll be here.”

“I’m- I'm in Slytherin.”

“Okay.”

Perseus looked incredulously, “Okay? That’s all you have to say?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being in Slytherin.” Sirius stated, “Your heart is in the right place.”

“How would you know?” Percy snapped, “You’ve been gone for most of my life. You don’t know anything about me.”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “So you standing in front of your Mather was just a happy accident? You weren’t planning on protecting her. Shall something go wrong?”

Percy looked at the ground, “Someone had to make sure she was safe while you were gone.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

“Life isn’t fair!” Percy yelled, “You left us. You don’t realize how badly you hurt her while you were gone.”

Remus walked back into the corridor to see Y/n frozen staring at her son. Sirius was standing in an argumentative stance. Percy’s eyes were filling with tears of frustration as he stared at the man who abandoned him from the start. 

“You left me. You left mum. You left Remus.” Percy cried, “How did you expect this to go, huh?”

Sirius didn’t say anything, “Did you expect me to be happy?! Did you expect me to hug you and fall into your arms?!” Percy shouted, “Because I’m not. I’m not happy, and I’m not going to fall into your arms and hug you like a naive little boy. My mum deserves better than this bullshit.”

“Enough!” Remus snapped, and Percy froze, “Your father is risking his life to be here right now. To meet you. I get it. I wouldn’t be happy either if my father did what Sirius did. But with things, the way they are right now is holding a grudge really that important?”

“N- No, sir.”

“Percy.” Y/n called, and he stared at her with watery eyes as she approached him, “I get it. You’re angry, you’re upset, but he’s still your father. He wants to be here now.”

“B- But he-“

“I know, my love. He’s going to try and make up for it. You don’t have to trust him right away. You don’t have to say ‘I love you’ right away. He isn’t expecting that.” Y/n wiped the tears from his cheeks, “All he’s expecting is his son. The little boy that he last saw.”

Percy looked down, “I know you aren’t that little boy, and I wish you still were. The little boy that used to make me smile and laugh. The little boy that used to cause mischief around the house driving Remus mad.” 

Sirius smiled, “You’re older now, and that will take some getting used to. I know you don’t remember, but Sirius used to be the only one who could get you to stop crying. He used to hold you all night, sleep with you in the rocking chair.”

“Sirius used to babble nonsense to you while I was at work. He used to take you to the park. Make you laugh by turning into a dog.” Percy sniffled, “Back then, Sirius was your everything, baby.”

Percy hugged his mom tight, “I- I’m scared.”

It was only loud enough for her to hear, “Why, baby?”

“What if- what if he leaves again?”

“He’s not going to.” Y/n moved the hair from his face, “Sirius wouldn’t leave us unless he had to.”

Percy knew what that meant. Sirius wouldn’t leave unless he got killed or died. Percy looked at Sirius’ eyes which were filled with tears from recalling the moments of his past. Y/n smiled reassuringly before Percy allowed himself to hug his father. He was wrapping his arms around his stomach, nuzzling his nose into his chest. 

When they pulled apart, Sirius smiled, “You’re my everything, kiddo.”

[moxfirefly]

I don't see many who ask for it and I adore the last one you did.

So IF it strikes your creative juices to do so, I would love another Abe Sapien NFSW with a female reader.

I don't have a specific scenario in mind, I thought I would leave that to something that may have been brewing in your mind for awhile. Eh, maybe bonus points for reader being regular bystander type person. But no real emphasis on that.

Again, only if the mood strikes you. I am the type that can only write when it hits me, the story, the timing, etc, so I like to give others a out if the mood never strikes them.

Adore and worship your writing 💞💞💞

Some Abe loving? Heck yes my dude! Also big fan of your stuff! I think this is the first time I have you in the inbox 💕

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

There’s many things that have stricken Abe. He feels things perhaps even more strongly than many could. The super hero gig brings a lot of emotions to the forefront, is he just a well treated captive with morals? Maybe. It’s protecting mankind something stands for? Most certainly.

Still doesn’t make the job any less harder.

And sure some civilians would rather spit at him and his comrades, treat them as less, as freaks.

Which brings him to right now, hiding behind a strangers couch while the authorities speak to her.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything suspicious?” The too well dressed agent ask once more. You shake your head.

“Like I said, I heard noises but I wasn’t about to stick my head out the window” Actually you had, and that’s when you saw blue and large black eyes. The supposed cop writes something down, gives you once last glance behind your shoulder before thanking you for the cooperation.

The evening had gone from completely quiet to a few shouts and gun fire, which was common in this neck of the woods but when you chanced a glance and saw Abe (he had politely introduced himself) you noticed the wound on his arm.

“I think you’re clear, for now at least” You whispered as you locked the door, Abe slowly stood from behind the couch, large eyes blinking.

“I cannot begin to express my gratitude….” You held your hands up and shook your head before he could continue. “I just, it felt wrong to leave you out there and much more to turn you in” Your eyes followed the blood on his arm, it hit you again and you jittery went about looking for a towel or anything whilst apologizing profusely.

Between stopping the bleeding and getting a crash course on suturing with dental floss and a needle, the hours had passed between that and gentle speaking. Abe had explained who he is and what he does. His busted up communicator had been the first problem of the night, getting separated from his team had been the second. Your superstitious brain had its way upon learning that creatures of all sort (good or bad) basically roam the earth.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” You had asked over a warm cup of coffee. Those bottomless eyes of his had twitched slightly.

Abe’s thought of it. Packing up randomly and just leaving. To see how true it is that he’s the last of his kind, the last of his family.

When a stranger says it, it feels sort of possible.

Doable.

He shakes his head instead, the edges of his mouth betraying only slightly. “No, I can’t” He leaves it that and you silently accept it.

Curiosity gets a hold of you as you tentatively pressed an index and forefinger to his forearm. He’s naturally cool, insanely soft but firm. You smile genuinely surprised, if anything mesmerized by the look of him.

You did always feel at home in the water. To see somebody who, for them, the water was first nature for them. Well it made all those stories your nana would tell you about the sea life feel so real. Just like that you let both fingers trail down his forearm, a gentle path without words.

And yet it spoke so greatly to Abe.

“I’m not a mermaid” He laughed softly, your wide eyes too comical for him to handle.

“Forgive me, but I have other abilities that allow me to… well to read you better” Did he just admit to being a mind reader?

You swallow, embarrassment tinting your cheeks and a hand still resting atop his own. Abe, not wishing to, read every alarmed thought and even ones that would’ve made him blush if he could. His hand held your wrist gently. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you” His apology was genuine, you shook your head with a shy smile.

What a strange turn of events the night had been. After some chatter and another pot of coffee, Abe was standing to take his leave. He had to somehow find his way back to the main camp, from there alert everyone that he was safe and had just been taking shelter.

In the company of a beautiful lady.

He swallowed, absently he ran a hand over the bandages you had so carefully wrapped around his arm. “All things considered, I’m glad you showed up at my window” You walked him over to said window, you both chuckled.

“All things considered, thank you for helping me… I fear I wouldn’t have had the same luck with the family of four beneath you” That pulled another series of chuckles from the two of you. There was an awkward pause, Abe stuck his hand towards you. You licked your lips and shook your head.

Instead you wrapped him up in a hug.

It left him quite stumped and not many things stumped Abe. Slowly he wrapped his arms around you, palms resting at the middle for your back. You thought about how nice he felt against you and it was enough to make his body feel something.

You pulled away gently, fingers lingering over cold scales. Those big dark doe eyes of his blinked in their unique inquisitive way.

Something inside of you said, ‘screw it’

Abe feels lips against his own, soft and unsure but nevertheless, perfect.

Kissing didn’t seem like something he’d ever partake in, needless to say it didn’t mean he often thought about it.

And now, with your lips against his own, he feels so much more than just your curiosity. He feels the shape of you against him, hands cupping his cheeks, the gentle tug to bend just enough to better kiss him. It’s almost intimidating how wrapped up he is in it.

When you seize with a gentle final press to the bottom of his lip, Abe’s forgotten his original intention of bidding you adieu.

Instead, he captures your lips once more and chances upon a firmer kiss. You follow it, follow the shyness and inexperience but the mechanics are there, the knowledge is there and you sweetly guide him in the dance of it. You find yourself pressed against the very window he was about exit out of and the cold of his skin in front you rivals the cold of the glass behind you. He’s firm, not at all jacked up like your past lovers but there’s an enticing strength to his lean body.

There’s something even more enticing how the blue of his skin contrast against your own human tone. The buckle of his belt digs into your navel when you urge him closer, lost in his cold lips. That very hand that could read anything it touches, finds your neck and lingers in warmer flesh.

You want him. It’s insane but you know you want whatever may happen.

He reads that, it makes him shudder because up until now he knew no one would ever consider him to be a lover.

And yet here you were, pressing your lower half against his own and letting a soft moan scatter inside his mouth and down his throat. It goes straight to his gut, so much more lower and it’s enough to make him stop and consider you once more.

“I want to…” He already knows the ending to that sentence.

“You, you don’t know me” He’s trying to find a inch of reluctance somewhere inside of you.

But he finds none.

Just lust, just need.

Just the thought of him and what lies beneath his-

Abe swallows, dark eyes blinking when he feels the palm of your hand against his stomach. “You said you’re the good guy in all this, yeah?” Your voice is teasing, nails tempting him further when they scratch closer to the buckle of his belt. Abe only nods, head tilting down to watch that very hand unfasten it, his weapon and other utensils fall.

“Then, unless you don’t want me, I don’t see why we can’t” Your tongue snakes out to lick your lips and Abe follows the movement.

“I- I do” A part of him feels shameful, feels he’s taking advantage but it’s not the case? Is it? Just insecurity trying to claim him once more. He feels your hands grasp his wrist and guides them to your chest-

Oh that’s, they feel very, very soft.

He goes in again, kissing you just a little more feverishly, enjoying that noise he swallowed not too long ago again.

Somewhere between more kissing and curious hands he has you bare before him and you’ve just finished nudging his shorts with the heal of your foot. The glass behind you in already hot, somewhat steamed with your body heat. It’s tricky and he’s self conscious but the few glances you sneak between the two of you find you even more in lust with the shape of him. You sit on the windowsill and bring him in closer.

You wrap a hand around him and feel his head drop against your shoulder with a shudder. Careful about it, you pump him a few times to get a better sense of his size. “I’ve ne-never-“ You kiss his cheek, kiss the worry away. “It’s okay, want me to lead?” You ask softly against his neck with another languid stroke to his shaft.

Abe nods against your shoulder blade.

When you lead him in, slide him inside with little to no issue, he’s gut punched by the warmth. How tightly you engulf him, the pulsating that has him stuttering his hips and sighing. You wrap your legs around him, a hand shooting up to grip his shoulder. He sees your head thrown back, resting against the glass a picture of eroticism he’s read about.

But here? In real time? With everything that’s coursing in him?

No book could ever amount to this.

He kisses you again, feels more words and cusses filtering into him, breast tightly against his chest and god he’s making you feel this. You watch those bottomless eyes watch every inch of yourself move against him. The wet slide of him leaving and entering you with each thrust picking up more and more. The slap of yourself against the window echoes along with the noises you both make.

You grip his waist with your legs, keeping him locked in place, wanting more of this intoxicating feeling, the coldness of his skin contrasting against your warm one. It’s so good, fuck it’s so good.

His hand finds your own, lifts it above your head not in a show of possession. More so in an intimate need to connect further with you. You hold his hand, grip tightening the more you feel yourself closer to release. With the way he’s breathing you know he is too, the wonderment that he’s probably never done this hits you hard.

“Y-you’re-“ Your mouth opens. “Doing so fucking good” You manage to finish off in the midst of a moan.

And that breaks Abe apart.

Has him burying his face in your neck, a whimper and something you barely make out as a competent sentence. He cums just like that, glued to you, surrounded by your scent and the feel of your hot sweaty skin. He manages to keep going a few minutes more to have you cumin. Abe feels that, the way you tighten and constrict around his cock and the oversensitivity is enough to hook him.

You both try catching air, eyes glued to one another.

A quiet understanding that this simply can’t be the last of it.

[fukurodanni]

love for the rich and emotionally stunted: a comprehensive guide

ch. 1/7 -- prev. -- next. pairing: jumin han x f!reader warnings: n/a series summary: in the months following the incident with his father's most recent paramour, glam choi, the corporate heir of C&R finds himself discovering exactly what it is that makes a person in love so blind. ao3 link

note: office romance slowburn. featuring hallmark tropes and bad flirting. enjoy the ride. hop into my inbox for a tag if you're interested though! kiss kiss.

-

You don’t mean for it to happen the first time.

Considering the state of your routine and your general efficiency (required when it comes to a job at C&R) it’s easy to say that showing up early is an ingrained habit. It had happened a few times too many when you’d first started working and just sort of stuck. However.

It’s thirty minutes past schedule when you wake up in a state of panic, rushing and grabbing for clothes and keys and wallet before stumbling out the door.

But for as much as you’d worried, it all turns out fine. You’re still on time, a nice man holds the door open for you--you don’t think you’ve seen him before, or maybe you’re so distressed your brain doesn’t recognize the face--and there aren’t any consequences. You don’t get yelled at. You aren’t behind. Really, you should have overslept more often.

So the next day you set your alarm a little later than usual and allow yourself to sleep. It goes much smoother than the day before and you still make it on time, looking much better than you had 24 hours prior. The same man--you think-- holds the door open for you, and you glance back to smile and thank him.

Except you really must have been too stressed to notice because the man you’re staring at is the executive director and immediate heir to C&R.

Your smile falls.

And then you choke out a noise of gratitude that’s supposed to sound like “Thanks,” but the shock in your voice turns it to audible mush. Mr. Han only hums in return and walks past you with all the dignity and poise of a seasoned Calvin Klein model. Your heart hammers with a startling lucidity at the surprise of it all but it isn’t anything that you think much of, so you make it back to your desk on time and it’s all fine, it’s all fine. It isn’t until about an hour later that you realize it’s probably the first time you’ve seen him so close in person.

Not that it matters, of course, but then it does - because it happens again.

And again, and again.

The routine continues for about a week: the “thank you,” the hum of a response, and no further conversation besides that at the door. You’ve gotten to catch longer glimpses of him as this routine has gone on, the shine of his hair, this grey of his eyes, but there’s something that intrigues you infinitely more. You haven’t gotten him to smile and it nags at you, incessant. So you’re determined to do it now.

You crack a joke about his consistency the next time you see him, a smile playing coy at your lips. He just hums again. Killjoy.

“What?”

“What?” You ask, turning on your heel. His voice is much deeper than in the press interviews.

“Were you calling me a killjoy?”

“Not intentionally, no.” You quip back, face feeling hot. You turn again and begin walking back, nursing the humiliation you can already feel pricking at your nerves. “Have a nice day, Mr. Han.”

You think he says something like “You too,” but you wouldn’t notice it over the rush in your ears.

That went well.

-

Another day passes, another routine, rinse and repeat. He doesn’t seem bothered by yesterday’s incident, so you’re planning to talk to him again tomorrow, just to give it a day in between. It’s going to get annoying soon, but he’s neither fired nor closed the door in your face so in all situations, it really is a win-win.

Jumin Han opens the door for you, wordlessly as ever. You spare a glance at him.

“I’d considered arriving late just to get a reaction out of you, and then I realized that I wouldn’t even be there to see it.” You quirk your head in wait, watching as the corners of his lips twitch into an unwitting smile.

Mirth is very becoming on him, you realize. Oh no.

“I’m sure it would be quite the sight, Miss.” He replies, that same almost-smile creasing a dimple into his cheek. When he nods his good morning and walks off to the tippity-top of the C&R building, all the office lights seem a little brighter in the wake.

You shake yourself from your musings and an intern is already brushing past you in their hurry to return to their place-- wherever that may be, and it reminds you to do the same. C&R International, with all its focus on exports, has a wide breadth when it comes to fashion. Having directed several of its projects, you know this firsthand. You also know that when your schedule isn’t filled to the brim, everything else seems like busywork.

For the first time in a few months you feel like a regular, 9-to-5 office worker.

Additionally, this means that you’ve returned to being hyped up on watery coffee all the time. The building’s cafeteria is a modern marvel in and of itself, overpriced as its food may be. Your break is just long enough for you to catch two-thirds of a meal and a conversation if the mood strikes, otherwise a whole meal and a moment to catch up on social media. Having just passed the two-thirds-meal mark, you’re surprised to see someone else approaching your seat.

Funnily, horribly enough, it’s Mr Han himself, who’s looking at you with the same unbidden curiosity that a child might grant a particularly fascinating caterpillar.

“You work here,” he says, without greeting. It’s an innocent enough statement.

Did he not know? That you work here? Was he under the impression that you’d just started showing up for his own personal amusement and one-sided banter at the beginning of the month?

“Uh,” you say. “Yes.”

He blinks at you. You think for a moment that he might fire you on the spot. You don’t know why.

“I have a lanyard,” you say dumbly, holding it up. You wave it around a little. Mr Han nods, looking professional as ever. “I see,” he says. “Work hard.” And then he leaves, Italian leather on polished marble and all. You still need to finish the rest of your salad.

-

It’s almost ironic, the fact that you arrive late the next day.

After the strange half-encounter with Mr. Han, you’ve given yourself a moment of contemplation. Surely if the man hadn’t given a second thought to you besides your shared mornings-- not even a minute, besides-- then there wouldn’t be any point in pursuing him any further. He hadn’t even realized you worked there, not really.

Office romances never work out, anyhow.

You don’t even know if it was an office romance that you were pursuing in the first place. Perhaps it would have been nice, just to have another friend at work. Not that you were lacking, only that everyone had already seemed to settle in their routines and you’d been so busy, and well. Some things work out that way, and it’s not like you’re awful at small talk.

You’re running to the door of the office building, shoes clacking noisily against the pavement. You have to open the door for yourself this time.

“I thought you were kidding about arriving late to see my reaction.”

You think your neck just about cracks with the speed you turn to the noise. Mr Han stands not two meters from you, head tilted curiously in that same innocent wonder. He looks sort of sheepish, though you can’t quite figure why.

“I’m, uh--” You stare at him then, really take him in. Nothing comes. “I’m late for work.”

His eyes widen a fraction. And then he starts chuckling, softly, and it’s petrichor after rain, a deep tenor from low in his throat that has you suddenly, instantly warm. It isn’t much, not really.

But then you start laughing too, familiar and gleeful and it’s almost like you weren’t having a deep monologue about him that spanned most of last night. When you meet his eyes again, warm like the earth, it’s enough to boil hope in you, sunlight spilling over.

You don’t know for what yet, but you figure it’s something you’d like to find out.

-

tags: @vandysgf @banenaz @mrs-han thank u!

[shirophantomvox]

How Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo would react to their S/O in the hospital

Hi, anon! You are welcome to join my Discord Server if you are a fan of Hxh, Voltron, or both! I promise this is a safe environment! This is an interesting topic for sure! To the other anon(s), I am working on your request! This will contain both fluff and angst. I forgot to include Leorio in this, so I’ll include him in the next HxH post. You’ll have to forgive me, I have 2 more requests in my inbox and I am not feeling the best. I just got my second Covid shot and it is hurting like hell. Nevertheless, I encourage you all to get your shot if you can. I will be on this site one and off and I should be on it for real next week. I have run out of ideas to write and I began to think I was annoying people with my HxH content (no one said this I just assumed). This post has 1974 words. After these requests are finished, I plan on doing a character analysis for Leorio.

Anyway, let’s get into the post!

We’ll start with Hisoka this time.

Hisoka

In all honesty, this man has heard of a hospital (since he sends a lot of people to it after fights) but has never been in one.

The signs, floors, staircase numbers, and elevators all confuse him. He has only been in one once when he was a kid and has never been again.

He isn’t a social butterfly in this setting because this is a professional establishment and not a college party. Asking for directions takes quite a toll on him because of his established pride. You know guys act when they want to find a destination on their own and will go miles out of the way instead of just asking for direction.

He doesn’t talk to anyone; all he wants to do is find you and make sure you are alright.

He is the tallest person in the freight elevator. So tall that everyone at turns to look at him at once for at least 10 seconds and turn back around surprised.

“How tall is he,” one of the nurses ask.

“Tall enough to be my house!”

This annoys him. He takes out the Joker card and lays it against his thigh but realizes he cannot make any hasty decisions. His bloodlust was activated merely out of irritation and not by threat. You were on his mind and destroying these worthless humans wasn’t an option for today.

He approached the guest desk and waited for about 2 minutes before he was acknowledged.

“May I help you,” a smug receptionist asked. Wow, these people do not know who they’re talking to.

“I’m here to see y/n.”

“Y/n is in room 345. Go down the hall and to the right all the way down.”

This man nearly ran with a quickness! His jester shoes somehow made the floor shake as he ran.

You were awake, eating the horrible food the hospital provided and watching TV. It seemed like you were doing ok, but you had just been in a car accident. Your arms and right leg were still sore. It was so bad that you’d be fine with Hisoka carrying you everywhere.

When you two are alone in serious public places, he doesn’t play games or tricks. He is often portrayed as a ruthless man, but in settings like this, he places the jokes and games aside for later. When he enters your room, he is silent for 30 seconds. Much too long. He was shocked; he walked around your hospital bed, pulled up a chair, and stared at your cast. It had many names written on it.

“Yes, I am ok.”

“I apologize for not being there for you,” he began to say.

“Shh… it’s ok. This is life. It hurts like hell, but I’m a trooper!”

Admiring your cast and its multiple fonts of handwriting and messages, he grabbed a sharpie marker, wrote his name, with a heart and spade next to it. Surprisingly, his cursive was very neat and legible.

“I didn’t know you knew how to write in cursive! Why don’t you write me letters?”

“I see you every day and it hurts my hand.”

The doctor wouldn’t be in for another 1 ½ hours, so Hisoka used your thigh as a pillow as he took a nap. He had been up for countless nights thinking about you. He was screwing up so bad, Chrollo let him leave early.

“As soon as your better, we will fight again. I won’t go easy on you. You won’t be in the hospital but you get the jest.”

Illumi

Illumi isn’t the type of man to overreact in these types of situations. When you both agreed to date each other, you knew you all were tough cookies. You were aware of the dangers of dating an assassin and he knew about the dangers of dating a bounty hunter. People hated you both and you targeted.

One night you both were caught in a vulnerable state. While you both enjoyed chocolate milkshakes at a laid-back 1950’s styled diner, two men were previously thrown out for fighting. While your back was turned one of those men shot your arm, causing you to carelessly throw your body to the ground due to impact.

While everyone else was screaming, Illumi jumped to the ground and tied his hair tie around your arm to temporarily stop the bleeding.

“Illu, why does it feel cold in here,” you managed to breathe out.

His heart dropped to his stomach for the first time in history.

“Don’t say things like that!”

Illumi is already horrible at displaying emotions, but all he could do is frown in fear. Once the EMS came barling in, he demanded that he ride with you.

Illumi hadn’t experienced anything like this since Killua had been injured when he fell from a tree.

You and he were separated when you were rushed into surgery leaving him alone in the waiting room.

When Illumi is stressed and cannot properly display how he feels, he tends to act in “odd” ways.

He begins to furiously turn pages in magazines or bother the receptions every 2 minutes about the status of your surgery. When the woman finally says that you’re still alive, he tones it down a little.

Illumi is open to conforming advice from strangers; he has been receiving it secretly from strangers. Since Silva was busy abusing him, he often found comfort from “the streets”.

He has a bad habit of pacing back and forth and fidgeting in his seat while horrific images fill his mind. All he has seen is pain and even though he was used to it, he didn’t want you to go through it as well.

While sitting in his seat (finally!) and head in his lap, doubled over indescribable sorrow, a little girl walks up to him with her hands folded and a doll under her arms. Illumi feels her presence and looks up. The girl’s curly hair covered her endearing eyes and her smile is wide.

“They’ll be alright. I just know they will,” turning around returning to her mother, the girl said with confidence.

On cue, Illumi placed his hand over his heart, smiling just a little.

He walked quickly to your room once you were out of surgery.

His speed walk mimics one of a soldier; his left arm in since with his right leg. His shoes echoed throughout the hall.

As soon as he enters the room, he shuts the door harder than usual and gives you a tight embrace. This surprises you! You’re lucky if he lays his head on your shoulder!

Illumi had been working out lately. He wanted to beat you in the “squish the melon” contest. He is very competitive and even if he lost, that doesn’t hurt his ego. Not in the slightest. Since it was just the both of you alone, he bends down to hug you tight, so tight that your face is squished against his.

This behavior is only surprising because he usually doesn’t coddle you even when you get hurt, but this time he realized that you could have died from the gunshot wound.

After that he kissed your forehead and almost simultaneously the doctor barreled in just missing the sweet moment between you and your beau.

Chrollo

When Chrollo is holding meetings with the Phantom Troupe, he always appears to be neutral. That is very important. A leader has to show strength even through the worst/hurtful times of their lives.

Chrollo had gotten a call from Nobunaga that you had gotten hurt on a mission and had actually gotten captured by the enemy. Phinks was able to get you back but you suffered horrible injuries.

This is protocol; they do this for any of the members. The troupe was oblivious to the fact that you and Chrollo were dating. They thought you were here to replace Uvo.

In situations like this, he is calm on the outside but screaming on the inside. Common sense will tell you if you are startled by the news you’ve just received and you begin to drive, you could cause more harm on the way to your destination.

Chrollo is very silent; he doesn’t call to check on your status or anything; he would rather see it for himself.

You were a trooper! After all, you are dating a dangerous robber.

Chrollo already knew what room you were in so he just went.

“I knew I should have kept y/n by my side. Y/n insisted on doing my dirty work that they almost died! How foolish could I have been?” He constantly cursed himself for letting his guard down with you.

He always gave you room to think and complete your own tasks but he can’t help his protective nature; one he has for the troupe but times 10.

His childhood friends had been shot by law enforcers, his home was horrific, and the last thing he needed was for you to be gone. You were keeping him afloat in society.

When he opened the door, Phinks was sitting in a chair, one leg over the other, laughing at a TikTok video.

Nobunaga on the other hand was watching the world news and seemed invested that he didn’t hear Chrollo enter the room. Once they both saw, they stood to their feet.

“Y/n is ok boss. They suffered a few cuts and burns, but they're breathing.”

Chrollo’s straight face remained as he stared at you.

Chrollo’s silence is something the troupe has internalized as a sign of anger, rage, or both. When he didn’t speak and just stared, everyone knew that their next mission was going to be a brutal one.

Chrollo is a man that isn’t afraid to express how he feels. He could cry right now if he wanted to and no one would dare laugh at him or insult him. After all, Nobunaga cried when he realized Uvo was dead.

Nobunaga and Phinks excused themselves as they saw him place his hand over his mouth.

Once the door closed, He pulled up the chair, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. His warmth woke you up instantly and you turned your head. You winced in pain causing Chrollo to jump from his seat, moving to your right side so you wouldn’t turn your head too much.

“I’m glad you're alive, darling. What were you doing putting yourself in danger? Feitan could have handled the beast!”

He isn’t trying to doubt your ability to fight, he’s just concerned for your safety. Even so, why would he insist that you join the spiders?

A tear dropped from his face as he silently kissed your hand three times. You smiled warmly and placed your right left hand on top of his.

“I am fine, boss. You need not worry. I’m a trooper, remember?”

He placed your hand against his dry cheek and continued to kiss it. You were his lifeline and he wanted to spend every moment with you.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Bet On It | Charlie Gillespie

Requested:  I may have already requested this (or I may have dreamed it) - but I would love an imagine with Charlie and the reader having a bet. Charlie loses and has to get the readers name tattooed somewhere and his fans go INSANE. Can be either platonic or romantic, your choice.

A/N: This was too good to pass up. Hope you like it! And special thanks to @calamitykaty for helping me out again on this one! I appreciate your help and love so much! You are the best of the best! Love you! 💖

Pairing: Charlie x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, tattoos 

Song(s) used: Show Me How You Burlesque - Christina Aguilera 

Words:  3,880

“Wanna bet on it?” was one of the first things he had ever said to you three years ago when you met him after your dance troupe had performed at the annual showcase. 

You and Meghan Gillespie had been friends since you started taking dance classes when both of you were five. However, your friendship never expanded from dance classes. Both of you were totally fine with that. 

This also meant neither of you had ever met each other's siblings, but that changed when you were seventeen and Charlie tapped your shoulder when you’d come up to greet your own family after the showcase. He’d complimented you on your dancing, and told you a little flustered that you had stolen the show. You didn’t even need to ask his name to know this was Charlie. He had the same bone structure and the same eyes Meghan did. She had told you about her siblings, mostly about Charlie since he was the closest in age and, according to her, the most annoying out of all her brothers. 

The two of you talked the whole night, even long after everyone had gone. Most of it was absolute nonsense, but  you loved getting to know him a little more aside from the stories you’d heard from Meghan. You enjoyed his presence and the way he carried himself and told his stories. This boy just seemed like the most excitable and passionate person you had ever met in your life. A lot of similarities to his sister, you noticed. 

“Can I see you again soon?” he asked when the two of  you wrapped up the night when it neared twelve am. 

You had raised your eyebrow at his nervosity more than his question. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Charlie’s head snapped up at your question, his eyes wide and jaw tight. “Wha-What? Nah! I wouldn’t date my sister’s friend! Uhm, more like, uh… Like a platonic date!” he exclaimed a little too excitedly. He even added some finger guns to top it all off. 

“All right, a platonic date it is,” you said as a teasing grin made its way to your features. “But you have to promise me one thing…” He nodded his head, encouraging you to go on. “You  have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” 

A snicker raked through his body before he mimicked your teasing grin, “Wanna bet on it?” 

Even though back then there was nothing at stake, he still lost the bet. You both did, technically. Because after that first ‘platonic’ date followed more dates that grew into non-platonic dates until he finally picked up the courage to kiss you on your doorstep. 

Now three years later, you were working together on a second season of Julie and The Phantoms, both of you having been on the first season too. You as a background dancer and him as one of the leads of the show. 

To say you were proud of him would be an understatement. 

However, no one knew you were dating except for the closest people in your life. Meghan knew from the first ‘platonic’ date that this would be more than just a shallow friendship, and all your other friends and family were just happy you found each other. The cast of Julie and The Phantoms, however, were your biggest shippers. They loved to tease you both to the point where fans were suspicious, but you never made anything official. You kept telling them you were just best friends. 

After a full day on a corona proof set, the two of you finally settle on the sofa of your shared apartment with Owen. Said third roommate still had to film a couple of scenes with Booboo, which meant the two of you had the space all to yourself. 

Cuddled up on the couch, the two of you scroll through your phone, catching up on anything  you’d missed on social media. You’d received a few comments on your latest Instagram story with Savannah and Tori, and even more on the ones with Charlie in them. Most of them told you they wanted you to do a live together soon. 

“People are asking for a live,” you stated, showing some of the messages in your inbox. 

“Then they shall receive,” Charlie replied and got up from the couch, making his way into the bedroom. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering why he just left, but you were given answers when he returned with an acoustic in his hand. “They always love a good jam session,” he explained before handing  you his phone so you could set up the live on his account since he had a lot more followers than you. 

“Let’s see,” you mumbled as you pressed the button, letting the phone rest against a large candle on the coffee table. Names started popping up at the bottom of the screen while the little number in the right-hand corner raked up quickly. “Hey guys!” 

“‘Sup!” Charlie shouted excitedly, a wide smile taking over his features while he tuned his guitar. “What do you guys wanna see from us today? Send us some requests for songs I should play or questions you want us to answer.” 

A laugh escaped your mouth as you noticed a lot of the questions were about whether or not you were a couple. “No, we’re not together, we’re just best buddies.” You put your head on Charlie’s shoulder, smiling a toothy smile at the camera. 

“Do you pull pranks on Owen or others from the cast?” Charlie read aloud as you pulled yourself up again, nodding your head in response. “Yeah, we pull pranks on each other all the time!” 

“Yeah! I love to prank this one whenever I find him somewhere napping,” you chuckled, especially when you noticed his expression on the screen. His mouth ajar as his eyes went from left to right. “I swear, this boy can sleep anywhere!” 

“Don’t expose me like that!” he cried out, which made you burst out with laughter to the point where you even let out a snort. You couldn’t hold yourself anymore at how offended he was by all of this, you were practically cackling. “Okay, if we’re exposing each other, you’re always dancing. ALWAYS,” he put emphasis on the last ‘always’. His eyes widened at the word as well as his voice growing louder. 

You stopped laughing at this, suddenly turning serious. “That’s my job, Char,” you deadpanned. Charlie wasn’t Charlie if he let it go so quickly. 

“Yeah, on set and maybe at practice, but you dance everywhere,” he turned to the camera, “Seriously, she dances in the shower, on the toilet, at catering, in bed,...” he stopped himself upon realizing he’d said a tiny bit too much. 

“People are asking how you know all that, Charlie. How do you know all of that?” you teased along, knowing he had dug himself a hole and you loved to see him squirm to get him out. 

“Because I… Come on, y/n, we’re best friends, we fall asleep in the same bed all the time,” he quickly saved himself in a very nonchalant, very Charlie way. You couldn’t help the smirk tugging at one corner of your lip, thinking ‘Nice save, Gillespie’.

“But that’s still not as bad as sleeping everywhere,” you countered, your face still overtaken by that smirk. “I bet I could get a whole album of pictures of you sleeping anywhere.” 

This claim made Charlie’s head snap up, a feeling of dejavu rushing through his mind. This suddenly felt very familiar since both of you had  been in a situation like this before, both pulling the short straw.

“Wanna bet on it?” he declared, his eyebrows nearly reaching up to his hairline. 

Your tongue glided across your turned up lips as you replied, “What’s at stake?” 

“Let’s see what they think. Guys! Help us out with this bet, please! What should be at stake?”

Dozens of replies came in, but your eyes fell on one in particular. “The loser has to get the winner’s name tattooed in a place of the winner’s choice!” you read aloud, pointing at the screen where the comment used to be. “Yes! Okay! So, let’s say we have to each get ten pictures of videos by -- it’s now Tuesday, so Monday?”  Charlie nodded his head in agreement. “First one to get ten wins.” 

Charlie held his hand out for you to shake, which you gladly did so, sealing the bet. 

“Get ready to get tatted for the first time, baby,” Charlie quipped with a smirk. 

“Oh, no, Char. I’m gonna leave this a blank canvas,” you responded, gliding your hands over your ribcage and down to your sides for emphasis. “You better get ready to get ‘y/n’ tattooed in big block letters across your chest!” You patted his pecs before adding with a giggle, “No ragrets.” 

He let out a chuckle at the meme reference before turning to the phone again. The two of you spent the next twenty minutes talking to the fans on Instagram live, playing them some songs and teasing one another non-stop. The fans were pretty certain you were a thing by now, but you still insisted all this was just a really close friendship. 

By the next day, everyone knew about the bet and was willing to help both of you out. Though, most of them told you afterwards they were on your side all the way. 

Savannah skipped over to you when you were waiting at the Hollywood Ghost Club set, getting ready for the last rehearsal before you’d start filming the scene tomorrow. You were going over the steps in your head until she spoke up. “Have you caught Charlie yet today?” she asked with a smirk. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, haven’t really stopped today, so I haven’t seen him much either.” This made you realize you kind of missed him and were up for a cuddle right about now. “Why? Have you seen him somewhere?” 

The mischievous look in her eyes spoke a thousand words. “Gimme your phone, I’ll go take a picture, so you can stay here.” You mull over the option for a second before deciding against it. 

“No, that’s not very fair. I’ll just go and look for him after this rehearsal and hope he’ll still be napping.” Savannah shrugged at your response before tucking a strand of hair of yours behind your ears. 

“Suit yourself, he’s in the breakroom.” You made a mental note of that. “You’re so soft for him, it’s adorable,” she uttered as a tender smile found its way to her lips. “I’ll let you get to rehearsal and I’ll make sure no one wakes Charlie before you can get to him, okay?” 

You shot her a thankful smile, “Yeah, thanks, Sav.” She kissed your cheek before walking away to wherever she needed to go. 

Thankfully, Charlie was indeed still asleep by the time you made it to the breakroom. He looked adorable all curled up on the small sofa with his arms wrapped around his own stomach. With an endeared smile, you grabbed your phone from the pocket of your sweater and snapped a picture before making your way over to him and squatting down in front of the couch. Softly, you brushed a strand of hair off his forehead before combing through the luscious mop of brown locks. 

He stirred slightly and squeezed his eyes tighter before they fluttered open. When they met yours, a soft, sleepy smile lit up his face. With a beam mirroring his, you said to him, “You look very cuddly up here, mind if I join you?” He scooted over and turned to his side, answering your question without words. You joined him on the small couch and rested your forehead on his chest, shutting your eyes as you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne. 

“You took a picture, didn’t you?” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You giggled, which was enough for him to know that you did. 

“One point y/n, Charlie zero,” you said and kissed his shirt-covered chest. 

“Oh, I’ll get my revenge, Bubba, I promise you!” He poked you in the ribs, making you squirm in his arms. “But let’s nap first until they need us again.” 

When Charlie promised something, he stuck to it. So, during lunch that same day, you stood in line with Madison, Jadah, Savannah, Tori and some of the other dancers, chatting a bit while music played from the speakers in the spacious area where everyone was either already eating or queueing to get food. 

“You really never know if you--” you cut yourself off once your ears picked up on the song that was playing in the background. “Oh my God! I know the choreo to this one. Tori, you do too, right?!” 

You put the plate you were holding on top of Savannah’s while Tori and some of the other dancers gave theirs to the other girls. Tori and Sam, one of the dancers you were closest with, got up on the table. Chuckling, you watched as a few others followed their example, and you quickly give in too. 

“Hit it up, get it up, won’t let you rest Hit it up, get it up, this is not a test Hit it up, get it up, gotta give me your best So get your ass up, show me how you burlesque”

You’ve loved this movie since it came out ten years ago. Your mother showed you some videos of you dancing in front of the tv, trying to imitate the dancers. It was pretty hilarious to see a ten-year-old do this dance. 

Right now though, you were ready to show off in front of everyone with some of the greatest dancers on this crew. Moments like these were proof that you were born to be a dancer. 

“A little bit of naughty, it's a little bit nice She’s a whole lot of glam, sweat, sugar, sex, spice Shimmy, shimmy, strut, strut Give a little what, what Up on the tables we’ll be dancing all night”   

Little did you know that Charlie had walked in with Owen, Jeremy and Booboo just as you’d started to dance. He was quick enough to grab  his phone from his pocket and film it. Even though he loved the fact that it was now a tie, he couldn’t help but smile proudly at the girl he’d fallen in love with three years ago. 

This was his favorite side of yours. You were in your element on the dance floor -- or table in this case. He just loved how confident you were and how free you seemed. While you’d be kind of shy when around new people, nobody would notice that when you’re dancing. He found it incredibly sexy to see you up there. 

You groaned as Charlie held his hand out to help you down the table when you’d finished the impromptu performance. With a smirk, he said, “1-1, Bubba,” and pressed a kiss to your flustered cheek. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t withhold the smile tugging at your lips. He looked so chuffed with his victory, even if it was a small one. You wanted to grant him this one win. 

The one win quickly turned into eight more, for the both of you, by Saturday. 

Match point. 

There was a mutual agreement to pause the bet on Sunday since the two of you had a day off and were going to sleep and dance around the apartment while cleaning up anyway, so that wouldn’t be fair. But on Monday, it was game on. 

You were certain you were going to win. All you had to do is find Charlie when you knew he didn’t have to film anything and try to withhold yourself from dancing if it wasn’t a part of the filming or rehearsal progress.

By noon, you had succeeded in one department. The only thing left to do now, was find Charlie. You knew he had an hour off for lunch and  that he’d spent twenty minutes of it taking a power nap somewhere on set. The only downside was, that you had no clue where he could possibly be sleeping  now. 

“Mads! Jer!” you exclaimed when you saw Madison and Jeremy walking up to you with sandwiches in their hands. “Have you guys seen Charlie anywhere?” The two glanced at each other before giving you a look that screamed ‘seriously, y/n?’. 

“What’s the best napping spot in the entire studio and isn’t used for anything today?” Jeremy asked as a way of responding to your question. 

Your eyes widened as the image of the bed popped into your head. You quickly muttered, “Thank you!” before hurrying your way to the set that holds Julie Molina’s bedroom. And there, smack in the middle of the bed, cuddled up to a pink cushion, lied your boyfriend. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you nervously grabbed your phone and snapped a few pictures to make sure there was at least one that wasn’t blurry. Your hands were shaking way too much from the excitement, but you couldn’t just let this one pass. You had to win. If not just to prove a point. 

You rapidly scrolled through the photos and when you saw one that was in focus, you shrieked and leapt onto the bed on top of Charlie. He let out a groan at the sudden weight pressing down on his body as he shook awake. 

“I won, bitch!” you screamed out, doing a happy dance as you straddled his lap.

He rubbed his eyes like a toddler whilst giggling like one too before placing his hands on your thighs and saying, “I didn’t think you’d find me here.” He started rubbing up and down your jeans-cladded legs, a pout tugging at his bottom lip. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Seriously? This is the most infamous napping spot of the entire studio! I immediately came here when I couldn’t find you in your regular spot in the breakroom.” Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“Someone else told you I was here, didn’t they?”

“Yep, definitely.” 

He groaned and then flipped you over, so you were lying next to him, and you let out a shriek before it turned into a giggle. “I already know where you’re gonna put my name too,” you mumbled. You pressed your forehead against his while tracing a heart on his chest, right above his heart. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed your forehead. Placing it back, he muttered, “Let me guess, on my left pec, so you’re forever in my heart?” You simply hummed in response, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend. “Why are you so predictable?” 

“Shut up, you love me.” 

Butterflies welled up in his belly as you said that. He loved the overconfident way you always said those words. They were true. Very true and he loved that you knew that. But that didn’t take away the fun into actually reminding you too. 

“That’s true.” 

The following day, you took Charlie to the tattoo parlor to get his tattoo. You had told him a thousand times he didn’t have to do it, that knowing you were the winner sufficed, but he just replied with a, “No, I want that tattoo.” 

The tattoo artist asked if  you had a design in mind, so you handed her the slip of paper on which you had perfectly written your name in cursive and told her where to put it. She simply stated, “You got great  handwriting,” before showing you and Charlie to the back. 

“Film this for Insta, babe, so the people know I lost,” Charlie had ordered you sweetly as he tugged his shirt over his body, handing it over to you while he sat down. 

You grabbed your phone and started filming when the tattoo artist, whose name was CeCe, she’d said, started on his tattoo. Charlie looked up at you, biting his lip, and then reaching out to you. Without asking him what was wrong, you swung his shirt over your shoulder and took his hand with the one you weren’t filming with. He squeezed hard, nearly bone-crushingly hard, but you let him. After all, it was kind of your fault he was there in the first place. 

When CeCe had finished and put a protective band-aid on it, Charlie grabbed his shirt from your shoulder, and kissed you on the lips sweetly. You paid for the work and time CeCe had put into this, said your goodbyes, and headed back home. 

Pretty much every single one of the cast was waiting at your place, ready to see the finished product. However, Charlie wasn’t allowed to take the covering off yet. It needed to stay there for two to four hours before he could take it off. 

And once he did, you were surprised to not only see your name on his chest, but also your favorite flower worked into it beautifully. Confused and surprised, you looked up at Charlie. 

“When did you even tell her to do that?” you asked as everyone started to take pictures of the tattoo and of the interaction between the two of you. 

“Called in beforehand,” he simply shrugged. Shaking  your head, you leaned up and planted a kiss to his lips. Even though it was bat-shit crazy he even went through with tattooing your name on his chest, the fact he added an element of you made it extra special. 

That night, Charlie posted the video of him getting his tattoo on his Instagram stories while you made a compilation post of all ten of the sleeping Charlie pictures you had accumulated in the last week, along with a picture of his tattoo. 

@Yourinstahandle: Victory is mine! You are absolutely crazy. I can’t believe you went through with this. At least now I’m forever embedded on your heart and I’ll be yours forever. 💖 @Charles_Gillespie 

And with that, you immediately went Instagram official too. Following your example, Charlie shared a picture of his brand new tattoo as well. 

@Charles_Gillespie: Wanna bet on it? Forever mine 💖 @Yourinstahandle

When he joined you in bed that night, you went to lie down on his chest, only to receive a painful hiss from him, causing you to shoot up again. “GAH! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” you shouted, and looked at him in shock. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered and went to pull you back but you refused to. 

“No, Char, I’m not gonna hurt you for an entire night,” you grumble and crawl across his legs to lie down on his other side. “This feels weird.” You rested your head against the non-painful side of his chest. “But better than no cuddles.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have won, so I wouldn’t be in pain right now,” he responded, followed by a small chuckle, letting you know he was just joking.    

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met,” you muttered. Before closing your eyes, you quickly leaned up and pecked his cheek. 

“Wanna bet on it?”

*

*

*

JATP Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost

Charlie/Luke taglist: @parkeret​ @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @lolychu @perfectlywrongformend3s @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Hello!

For your plot bunny list, can I req #13 for Ikesen Hideyoshi please? Something about that prompt just really reminds me of him! Thank you so much if you do it!

Whoops, did that turn angsty? Most definitely. Prompt #13 is for Hideyoshi and wow, did that one made itself wait.

Disclaimer: I'm slowly working through my inbox from the last time I had requests open.

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Hideyoshi Toyotomi

Warning: Mentions of deities, character death and dealing with grief. Inspired by Encanto.

Word count: < 1k.

Masterlist

When gods descend amongst men they see it as a trial to live as a mortal. Short and fragile lives with little to no cultivation and a constant flow of conflict. One after the other until there was no one left standing. The gods, trying to accustom themselves, would either exit the mortal realm as a legend, celebrated for generations to come, or depart a tragedy, lamented by each passing dynasty.

Yours started with a green robe, the sleeves empty as the fabric was pressed tightly to your chest. A soundless scream escaped you when you felt a power flood through, a legend baring itself to the world as another gave up its life, the war demanding its toll which came in the form of the life of a god. The token of mortal life touched by the immortal, or what was once immortal, left behind in your hands as the flickering light of a candle.

It became a light that would guide you through the darkness of the longest night you had lived through, the rest soon following after when they realised how they as well had been robbed off the sun.

“What direction, where to?” These were the questions you were so often asked as you carried your own regret and grief, “what to do, how to continue?” they kept on coming, pouring in one after the other before you had found the answer for the first. The light in your hands kept on flickering, like his hand ruffling through your hair as he told you all would be right, his green robe carefully tied around you like a shield.

“Hideyoshi,” you prayed, wondering when the name of a beloved had turned into that of a request, a request to feel his presence once more that you had lost so cruelly.

“Hideyoshi,” you begged, the tears thick in your throat, but dry in your eyes as the years passed, “how to go on?” you questioned when the light flickered, as if wavering, the last of his existence seeming to flutter away, whatever influence he had on you slowly fading away as you continued to march forward.

The problem with time is that all is mortal. The immortal who wanders endlessly knows how memories fade in the passing of time, first erasing a voice, the tone and intonation of every word spoken, before it is the face and the way one smiles, or the wrinkles that form when the eyes crinkle. The person stays, a name left behind, but what made the person may fade, and the impact may blur.

“How to go on?” you had begged, feeling lost at this realisation of the mortality of your own memory. Though the mortal life is short, it is the memory that is shorter and you find yourself in the realisation that you may have forgotten who the immortal was that walked amongst the mortals that gave up his life.

The answer came in a whisper, maybe a breeze, or a memory long buried away in the depths of your mind surfacing up when you dug and begged so far it came out summoned.

Perhaps, it was the remainder of an immortal life in the gift that you had received, a token of his love that had guided you for so long.

“You have to,” you imagined in what you believed to be his voice, barely remembered after years past, an infuriating answer, for ‘have to’ sounded like you must, like you had no choice, as if it had been so easy, which it hadn’t been. The words of a beloved, met with so much resistance and pity and grief. You couldn’t stand the way it made your heart coil as you let go of a sob.

How, you wondered. How, when the strength was gone and his memory was fading. How, you wondered when you realised that only his name had remained, not as that of a beloved, but as that of guidance, as a prayer rather than a name.

“You have to, like you have decided so long ago, like you have done so until now.” There is nothing reassuring in the answer, but you realise that there was no reassurance in your grief.

A green robe tied around your shoulders, like a cape of shelter given by a man that pretended to be mortal. His name was Hideyoshi, you remembered, but that was all that had remained for nothing was as mortal as the memory itself.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

if you’re still doing the ask game, I’d kill to see number five for either Jake, Jameson, or Jax. you know how I love my drug whump

I have so many prompts sitting in my inbox that are numbers to ask games that I can't remember what the prompts were... but I remember this one. This is as good a time as any...

CW: Pet whump, dehumanization, drugged whumpee, beating, described body/bones, brief emeto ref, restrained, sadistic whumper, collared, chained up

Direct Sequel to Deep Breath / I'm Ready. Part of the Jameson's Backstory mini-series.

-

"I have a system, dog. I have a method. I have a way these things are done."

Robert punctuates each sentence with another kick to his ribs, and the pet grunts with the impact, telling himself to let some of the pain bleed out into the man's boot. With his hands tied behind his back, a short rope linking them to his ankles, he's forced into an arch that leaves his most vulnerable places entirely unprotected.

Open.

On display.

Inviting the next blow.

At least whatever was forced down his throat dulls things a little bit. It's a mercy, he thinks, because Robert isn't done with him yet. The world roils and spins around him like the ocean on a stormy day. The pet is a white-capped wave when the next kick comes and something snaps inside him.

Watch it rain, a soft voice says somewhere inside him. A small hand grabs his own. Watch the rain fall, Johnny. Don't you love rain?

He whimpers, sweating into the blindfold, shivering reflexively as cool air hits the sheen of wet over his skin. He doesn't know who Johnny is.

"Please... please..." His pleading is weak, voice cracked and breaking.

But he just wanted to do the only thing he could to help the young man in the bathtub. He just wanted to help.

Now he's helpless.

Robert's boot, pulled back for the next kick, pauses at the sound. "What's that? You not enjoying this?" He exhales, letting out a thready laugh, before he drops into a crouch, running his hands over the pet's hair. Robert watches him flinch back, unable to see it coming. His thumb finds a spot rubbed bald by the straps of the muzzle and he runs over it, humming, finding the scarred places where the muzzle has cut in enough to make him bleed, over and over. The pad of his thumb is rough, calloused from his job. "You don't like taking your punishment, hm? Is that it?"

The pet holds as still as he can, panting, trying to push past the throbbing ache on his left side. Broken rib, maybe, or just bruised. He'll find out if it heals right or doesn't.

"Please-... please stop," He whispers.

That only gets him another laugh, meaner this time. "That boy had two more weeks of life left in him," Robert says, in a tone of perfect rationality. "I chose him special, and you got it in your head to ruin everything. I just don't see how I'm the bad guy here."

He sighs, and rips the blindfold off over the pet's head.

The pet looks up, struggling to focus, only to take a fist to the face as soon as he does. Knuckles crack into his jaw, but nothing breaks. It's a miracle he hasn't lost any teeth.

His head bounces off the floor, a flash of white behind his eyes. He hears a rough voice cry out in pain and realizes it's his own. The world, already a seasick cruise ship, bobs even more dangerously around him.

He's being blown around in circles, saltwater coming in too fast to bail out. He's going to be sick. He's going to throw up on the floor and drown.

Just like he drowned the man in the bathtub who begged him to do it, who said I'm ready, who held his hand, who struggled at the end and then stopped, and then-

And then...

The air had gone briefly cold after the man had stopped moving and the pet had felt a breeze through his hair, as if something in the man was leaving and moved past him on its way somewhere else.

He starts to cry, unwillingly.

His sobs comes out through gritted teeth, tears forced out of eyes he's closed as tightly as he can to try and keep them hidden. His body shakes.

"Two weeks you've robbed me of," Robert says, standing back up. He groans, and the pet can hear him moving around the room. He doesn't dare look up to watch him, not now. "Two weeks, and now it's all wrong. Now nothing happened the right way, it's all fucked up now. I have a system. I have a method, I have a routine, and you fucked it all up!"

The last words come out a deafening scream, and the pet cries out again, trying as hard as he can to duck his head and hunch his shoulders, wanting only to protect himself in whatever meager way he can. The sound of Robert's voice bounces around inside his fucked-up skull. The water is pulling him under now.

The waves lurch and break against him as Robert grabs him by the arms and drags him. Hog-tied, he can do little more than squirm as he's pulled back into the hallway, to the grimy bathroom.

The young man isn't in there anymore.

"I should kill you," Robert snaps, depositing him back on the cold tile, wet now with water splashed out from when Robert found what he had done and had dragged the body out, trying to revive it so he could hurt the young man more. "I should fucking kill you, you stupid dog. You ruined everything!"

The pet tips his head back until it touches the floor, looks up at Robert looming over him, all malevolence and rage. Beyond his fear, the pet finds a core of something that burns bright and hot, stronger than the smell from the basement. Something sharper than the knives he is cut with, something stronger than Robert's shouting or his fists.

The pet makes an expression that could be a smile or could be a snarl. It could be appeasement or bared fangs. His lip busted at some point and he feels blood on his teeth, tastes it on his tongue.

It makes him think of Nanda.

He lets the blood shift into his mouth, lets it pool on his tongue. Tastes the copper-salt, the hint of sweet. The taste of love, of Nanda's mouth, of his low voice, hands in his hair or on his hips.

Once he has enough, the pet spits blood into Robert's stupid fucking face.

"I hope the next one goddamn kills you first!"

Robert goes still, and silent. His eyes are ringed in white, like a horse about to bolt. Then his hand comes up to slowly wipe away the smear of pink-tinged saliva on his cheekbone running down to his jaw, marked with a five o'clock shadow.

"Fucking dogs don't know how to stop their bark," He mutters to himself. Whatever his plan in the bathroom had been, it's clearly not enough. He pulls the pet up, then lets him fall again. Stares around, eyes bouncing over the still-full tub, the ring of grime around the tub where the water still sits.

Then he just shakes his head. "No, no, no," He mumbles. "No no. Calm it, Bobby. Calm it. Think think think."

The pet stares up at him. His body holds more disgust in that moment than he ever thought possible.

Robert disappears back into the hallway, leaving the pet where he is. Outside the barred bathroom window there's a soft birdsong and the faint hint of sunlight. What time even is it? The pet never knows. The bathroom is the only window that isn't covered with heavy blackout drapes almost all the time.

He focuses on breathing, keeping things shallow to hold the pain in his ribs at bay as best he can. His wrists hurt from the ropes rubbing them raw, his muscles are pulled painfully taut and stretched.

Robert returns with the gag-muzzle, forcing the plastic bit between his teeth. His tongue pushes against it uselessly, working to try and make it comfortable even as his jaw already protests what it knows is coming. The straps slide over the bald spots, buckle into place. The pet shudders at the familiarity of the feeling and tries instinctively to jerk his head to the side.

Robert grabs him by the hair and forces his head back, giving a humorless rictus grin at the pained grunt forced from the pet's throat. "Oh, you don't like that, huh? Shoulda thought of that before you fucking ruined my system. My method. My routine."

You said that already, the pet thinks, but it occurs to him Robert probably doesn't remember that. He's never sure what Robert actually knows about his own words, how much sinks in to memory. He's always repeating things like it's the first time he's ever said them.

The rope between his wrists and ankles is cut and Robert pulls him up to his feet, shoving him forward. The drugs keep the pet struggling to hold himself upright, stumbling to one side or the other. He can still feel the waves - inside him, battering, trying to pull him back under the cold dark water.

He goes willingly enough, shuffling with his hobbled ankles, until Robert has him at the basement door.

The pet rears back in a sudden panicked realization, a muffled, unintelligible babbled plea coming out around the bit, behind the leather muzzle already making his skin pour sweat. He shakes his head wildly back and forth, tries to yank himself free.

Robert's laugh is wild and crazed this time as he shoves the pet forwards and it's either go down the stairs or fall.

The pet's foot finds cool smooth old wood that creaks and he whimpers, the smell flooding his nose making his stomach twist and turn. The next step. A third. A fourth.

The light is on in the basement, a single bare bulb shining a thin circle of light over the disturbed earth on one side. The other side is untouched except for some boxes and the chemical barrels, wreathed in dark shadows that let nothing escape.

"You like 'em so much, you can spend the night with 'em, huh? Just have a little sleepover with my friends here, hm? How's that sound? How that fucking sound?!"

The pet whines as Robert screams in his ear, shaking his head again and again as he is forced step by step down into the basement where they die, where he buries them. His bare feet touch down onto the earthen floor, coolly dry down here, chilly compared to the upstairs. The pet is shivering but it isn't really from the cold.

Goosebumps burst all over his arms and legs, a thrill of terror down his spine as Robert pulls him over to the shadowed corner where the boxes are. There's a hinged metal collar with a chain that attaches to the wall, and the pet realizes that Robert must use it when they're down here just before Robert throws him down on the ground and closes the metal with a snnnnkt over his leather collar, around his neck.

There's thigh bones, he thinks, in a pile over underneath the lightbulb. Just a bunch of fucking goddamn femurs, like Robert comes down here to play fucking barbie dolls with dead people, taking them apart and putting them back together.

Welcome to Malibu Barbie Dreamhouse, he thinks, and a manic horrified laugh bubbles up his throat. John Wayne Gacy edition.

A padlock is hooked through the front of the collar, cold metal slapping down against the top of the pet's collarbone. He looks up at Robert, who is right in front of the light bulb from his perspective, his face black and unreadable.

Please, he tries to say. I'm sorry. Please. All that comes out is muffled animal whines.

"You love them so fucking much, you can be best friends." Robert ruffles his hair. He grins, and the yellowy white of his teeth is all the pet can see of his face. "Enjoy your sleepover, dog."

He turns and leaves, ignoring the pleading whines of the pet as he climbs up the stairs, the creaking like a chorus, a harmony to the pet's cries for this to not be real.

The light seems to shimmer around its edges - it's just the drugs, he tells himself, it's just whatever was in those pills - and shift. Dead people could hide down here in the dark places, with their bony fingers reaching out to grab him.

He whimpers again, softer this time.

He manages to shuffle himself on his ass backwards until he hits the basement wall, smooth stone older than the house itself. His hands are still tied behind him and his ankles are still hobbled. Tears run from his eyes, drift along the edge of the muzzle, drip down from his jaw into the dirt. He sobs around the bit gag, whining until he can't remember if he even is human at all any longer.

Then he sees a face and gives a full-body shudder.

At first he thinks it's the drugs, but it's not. The young man who begged him for help, the reason he's down here at all, isn't buried yet. He's just lying on the ground under a worktable on the other side of the basement. His hands are still tied together in front of him, his soaking wet hair has begun to dry, frizzy and tangled.

Something about the face, though, gives him pause.

He's seen them dead before, their faces etched in horrified screaming, empty eyes wide and terrified. He's seen them trapped in their final agonies long after they're gone.

But the young man across the basement looks like he's gone to sleep there on the floor, that's all. His color's all wrong but the dim light keeps that from being too obvious.

He looks like he's sleeping.

He didn't die screaming under Robert's knife, or begging for it to stop as the blows kept raining down. He isn't tied to Robert's bed, he isn't anything like that at all.

The pet's fear is still in him, heart beating jackrabbit-fast against the inside of his chest, but he stares and stares at the young man's body and begins to understand that... he doesn't need to be afraid of them.

He doesn't need to be afraid.

He needs to be angry that they die like this, not afraid of them.

Anger is what keeps him breathing, what keeps him thinking, what keeps him alive.

He made Robert furious, but more importantly he took a victory from him, he took power from him. He took away control. He made it so Robert can't feel like he owns the young man in his death, like the body is his because he made it.

No.

As long as he isn't dead, that means he isn't out of time. As long as he keeps breathing, as long as he keeps thinking, as long as there are parts of him that Robert doesn't know, doesn't own, that he can't control.

As long as he stays angry.

As long as he has hope.

I'm going to get out of here, he promises the young man's body, the pile of bones, the rest of them under the soil. I'm going to escape. I'm going to do something, someday, when he gives me the chance.

I'm not like him.

I'm not like any of them.

I want to be like you, instead, but alive. I want to live.

I'm going to live.

For a second he smells water, he hears a voice he can't understand and tastes the young man's voice on his tongue, the taste of sage tea with milk.

The pet swallows and closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, holding the air, breathing out again. The air shifts around him, touches his face just above the muzzle.

In the perfectly still basement, a breeze shifts along his skin, rustles his hair just a little.

Something moving past him on its way to somewhere else.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary @burtlederp

[t0wnspersonb]

Sleepless Nights (Kageyama Tobio x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Hi hi hope you're doing well! I was wondering if I could request a fic with giving kageyama a blow job for the first time? You can take it further if you want, whatever you want! Love your writing 😊

~~~~

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,973

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (male recieving), language, Kageyama being a perfect angel baby.

~~~~

I didn’t think that I was a simp for Kageyama but like maybe...?👀👀👀 I hope that you guys like it! It was a lot of fun writing lmao. Also bonus points if you can catch the reference I made😂 I’m still shuffling through my inbox, I won’t be doing all the requests that have been asked but I will still be doing a select few. Please enjoy:)

~~~~

You shifted nervously in your seat, weakly smiling at the orange haired male that was blatantly staring you down.

 This was incredibly awkward.

 “Stop staring at her dumbass!” Kageyama growled, setting down his milk cartoon to slap the middle blocker, who easily dodged his advances. 

 “Why are you dating Kageyama!? He’s a bad guy!” Hinata yelled getting in your face.

 “OI!” Kageyama grabbed the back of his uniform, yanking him away from you.

 You furrowed your brows in confusion at his statement, a bad guy? Kageyama was far from it.

 “I really like him.” you blurted out, pausing their fighting, the tall setter looked at you with a shocked face, blush coating his cheeks in embarrassment. Hinata on the other hand looked mortified at your statement. “He’s very kind and strong.” you finished, glancing down at your bento, now you were embarrassed at your confession.

 “He’s not kind at all! But he is strong! His tosses are the best!” Hinata declared, returning his attention to his large sandwich.

 Kageyama ignored him, his blue eyes focusing on you completely. You guys had only been dating for a couple of weeks but… those past couple of weeks he’s never been happier.

 You were in the same class as Yachi, but the store that he went to often was the same store that you worked at part time. Before you knew it, a friendship began to blossom between the two of you, and then you guys literally ran into each other during a morning run.

 Come to find out that you guys went to the same school and were in the same year. Although, you were completely unaware of the tall male and his club activities. You were on the swim team, on the complete opposite side of where the volleyball gym was.

 But after that friendship began to bloom, something new took its place. Something more vibrant, and far sweeter.

 You were the first one to confess your feelings, despite the nerves, despite the fear that he wasn’t going to feel the same. You knew how hard he worked at volleyball, you figured that he wouldn’t have time in his life for a girlfriend, but the secret ate you up inside. When you had confessed, you were already prepared for the rejection that he would give you, only it never came. 

 He liked you too.

 Naturally you guys began dating, and it was pure heaven. Despite his awkwardness, things slowly became more natural. It wasn’t until now that he started to introduce you to his friends. 

 Hence the strange interaction you just had with the middle blocker.

 “Is Y/n-chan going to come to the game tomorrow?” Hinata asked with his mouth full of food.

 You perked up at that, beaming at the small male. “I am! It’ll be my first time seeing a volleyball game! I’m very excited.”

 “Eh!? You’ve never seen a volleyball game before!? What have you been doing!?” Hinata exclaimed.

 Kageyama scowled at him. “Y/n isn’t a volleyball player. She’s on the swim team, she doesn’t have time to focus on volleyball like you do dumbass.”

 Before another fight between the two began you started talking. “I’ve never been interested in the sport. I’ve always been really busy with swim meets and fundraisers. But when Tobio talks about volleyball it sounds like a lot of fun! Your team sounds so strong!” You said brightly.

 Kageyama felt his heart thump harder in his chest at your praise. The clear happiness and excitement on your face was undeniably adorable. 

 “What do you do when you swim Y/n-chan!?” Hinata asked excitedly.

 “I only swim free.” You said proudly, grinning at the smaller male. “It’s the only style I swim during meets.”

 “She’s really good too.” Kageyama stated, thinking back when he had gone to his first ever swim meet. You were incredible in the water, breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you swam, you were elegant and beautiful, your movements gliding through the water easily.

 He had never seen anything more perfect before.

 “I don’t know what that means but it sounds cool! You’re cool Y/n-chan!” Hinata said brightly.

 You couldn’t help but grin back, all traces of awkwardness gone now. “Thanks, Hinata!”

 Lunch ended without a hitch now, the conversation was easy with Hinata, despite the constant fighting, it was incredibly fun.

 Before you could head back to class Kageyama grabbed your hand gently. He stared off into the distance, blushing softly as he glanced over to you quickly. 

 “Will you wait for me after practice?” he asked.

 You squeezed his hand carefully, ignoring your racing heart. “Of course! Let’s walk home together Tobio.” you smiled sweetly.

 He nodded once before releasing your hand and walking off; Hinata was already long gone by now.

 You smiled softly to yourself, the tall setter had a hold on your heart like no other. You couldn’t wait for the game on Saturday.

 ****

 As promised, you stood outside of the volleyball gym, kicking lightly at a rock near your foot.

 “Y/n-chan!” you heard a familiar voice call out, you looked up smiling at the orange haired male jumping and waving his arms around, several others looking at you in curiosity.

 “Shut up Hinata! Boke!” Kageyama growled grabbing his head. After a couple of shoves, Kageyama made his way over to you.

 “Ready?” you asked sweetly, beaming up at the tall setter. He felt his face flush but nodded, reaching to carry your bag.

 “Yeah let’s go.” he said, slugging it over his other shoulder before taking your small hand into his own.

 “What? Is that Kageyama’s girlfriend?” Tsukishima asked, intending for it to be a joke.

 “Yeah! She’s super cool!” Hinata said excitedly. “Y/n-chan is on the swim team! She only swims free! Whatever that means!”

 “... WAIT WHAT!?”

 “KAGEYAMA HAS A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE ME!?”

 “BUT SHE’S TOO CUTE!”

 “THE UNIVERSE HAS FORSAKEN ME!”

 “SHUT UP AND GO HOME EVERYONE!”

 “... Yes Daichi.”

 ****

 Kageyama couldn’t help but notice that your hand was cool, and that your hair was still wet from your swim practice.

 “Are you cold?” he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

 You shook your head. “I’m fine. Besides, we're already at my house.” 

 You looked up at the dark-haired setter who was scratching the back of his head, not meeting your gaze. 

 “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, finally looking at you, his face slightly flushed. 

 “Bright and early. You’ll do great.” You smiled, hands resting on his uniform. “Sleep well?”

 He nodded and stooped down as you stood up on your tiptoes, his slightly chapped lips gently brushing against yours before sealing your lips in a gentle kiss goodnight.

 This wasn’t your first kiss with Kageyama. Surprisingly, kisses came incredibly easy for the awkward setter. He loved how soft your lips were, and how he could taste the melon lip gloss on his lips afterwards.

 Your heart raced in your chest, and you were tempted to pull him in deeper, wanting the kiss to develop more and last longer, but all too soon he pulled away, giving you a soft smile before taking his leave.

 That boy was going to be the death of you.

 The rest of the night progressed uneventfully, and you soon found yourself freshly showered and ready for bed. 

 Practice must’ve been incredibly draining for you, because as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out cold.

 It had to be at least three in morning when your phone began to ring. You sleepily fumbled around for it before squinting at the bright screen.

 Kageyama.

 “Hello?” you answered, voice thick with sleep.

 “I’m sorry for waking you.” he said softly. “I just couldn’t sleep. Is it okay if I come over?”

 “Yeah. Let me open my window.” you mumbled quietly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, turning on your bedside lamp before shuffling yourself out of bed to open the window. 

 This also wasn’t the first time you’ve done this either. 

 Even before you guys had started dating, Kageyama frequented your bedroom many nights to hang out.

 You could barely keep your eyes open as you waited for Kageyama to show up, it had been about fifteen minutes before you saw a familiar figure slip through the open window and quietly close it behind him.

 You gave Kageyama a sleepy smile from your bed, noticing his grey sweatpants and black pullover. He looked good, incredibly good.

 You hadn’t noticed his sharp intake of breath. Kageyama swallowed thickly as he took in your sleepy appearance. Your hair was tousled from sleep, the baggy white shirt did nothing to hide your hardened nipples that were now straining against the thin fabric from the frigid air. Your soft legs were incredibly exposed to his eyes and… oh fuck, your pink colored panties were on full display now.

 “Why can’t you sleep?” you asked, yawning, stretching your arms above your head. This caused your shirt to pull up more, revealing the delicate white bow on the front of your panties.

 Kageyama couldn’t tear his eyes away, his pants tightening ever so slightly.

 “T-Too pent up for the game tomorrow.” he said, finally snapping his eyes away from your figure. 

 His palms were incredibly sweaty at this point, blood roaring in his ears as he attempted to calm his racing heart. 

 “I see.” you said tiredly. “Well we can play a game on the console until you feel tired.” you stretched your body out on the bed as you reached for your side table drawer, your upper body lying flat, your bottom swaying slightly in the air.

 Kageyama’s eyes zeroed in on your ass, the panties hugging your cheeks perfectly, and the urge to grab at those perfect mounds of flesh caused his fingers to twitch at his sides.

 This definitely wasn’t good, because now he was pent up for an entirely different thing.

 “Here it is.” you mumbled to yourself, completely unaware of the internal conflict that was going on in front of you. You looked over at him, sitting up on your knees and patting the spot next to you on the bed. “Come here.”

 He sat down next to you stiffly, carefully resting his back against the wall. 

 “Get comfortable Tobio.” you said in amusement, yawning once more. He nodded robotically as he situated himself a bit better on the bed, making sure to rest his legs in a position that prevented you from seeing the increasing tent in his pants.

 You handed him the game, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling him stiffen slightly before relaxing as he started playing.

 He had only begun playing for a couple of minutes before your eyes began to droop in exhaustion, you wrapped your arms around his bicep as you settled against him comfortably.

 But he could feel your breasts pressing into his arm, his character dying in the game as he started to focus more on you.

 While your relationship was still relatively new, you guys definitely weren’t strangers to cuddling or gentle touches.

 Kageyama was definitely familiar with the desire that was now coursing through his veins. The first time he had experienced this was the first time he had gone to your swim meet. While the swimsuit that you wore wasn’t necessarily the most flattering thing, you were definitely beautiful, and the revealed skin of your body did something to him.

 “Y/n,” he whispered, causing your head to jerk up as you were startled awake. But before you could even process what was happening, Kageyama tossed the gaming console at the edge of the bed, twisting his body slightly as he moved to cup your face, and pressing his mouth against yours.

 A noise of surprise was made in the back of your throat, but you kissed him back. Arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him into you. The tiredness you were feeling began fading away, want and need seeping into your body now. 

 The kiss developed quickly, your tongue carefully tracing his lips before they parted in surprise. Your fingers were twisting in his black hair now as you pulled him in deeper. Your tongue massaging his, in a hot, slippery mess. 

 One of his hands rested on the side of your neck, keeping you to him, while the other was placed carefully on your waist. 

 This wasn’t enough though. You needed more. Carefully you swung your leg over his hip, maneuvering yourself so that you were now straddling him, your core pressing directly into his crotch.

 And that's when you felt it, a growing hardness that began pressing against you in your most intimate areas. 

 Kageyama ripped himself away from your lips, his expression dazed as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I-I’m sorry.” he breathed out. 

 You ignored him and carefully grinded your hips down against him, wanting more. A choked sound escaped his swollen lips, his hands darting out to grip your hips tightly, preventing you from moving further against him.

 “What are you doing?” he panted, his pants were incredibly tight like his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

 “Let me.” You whimpered, tugging at his hands. “Let me help. Let me take care of you.”

 You scrambled out of his lap, his face confused and dazed as you settled yourself between his legs. Your hands gently ran up and down his strong thighs, you could feel the muscles flexing under your sweet touch. 

 “You want to sleep right? I’ll make you tired.” You whispered and started tugging at his pants. You didn’t know what came over you, but all you knew was that you wanted to see Kageyama unravel before you. You wanted to hear more of those noises escape his lips.

 “W-Wait.” he grabbed your hands, staring at you with wide eyes. “Are you… what are you -” “trust me.” you interrupted him, “I’ll make you feel so good Tobio, please?”

 The pleading that was escaping your lips made you feel a bit pathetic, but that feeling was overshadowed by the complete need to make him feel good.

 He stared at you for a bit longer before nodding, his hands released yours as you pushed his pullover up slightly, working his pants and underwear over his hips and then… fuck. Your mouth watered at the sight. His member contrasted beautifully with the hard lines of his lower stomach; the splatter of dark hair caused your stomach to twist pleasantly. Carefully, you wrapped your hand around him, the skin soft and hot beneath your fingers.

 Kageyama’s breath became more labored, coming out in short and quick pants. His eyes fluttering shut at your touch. 

 You stared in awe as you began stroking him up and down carefully, his cock pulsing in your hand. 

 You wondered… your tongue darted out, flicking softly at the swollen head, tasting the bitterness of the leaking precum.

 A strangled groan escaped Kageyama’s mouth, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. Your eyes flickered up to look at him.

 Fuck. You had always thought that Kageyama was beautiful, but this time.... You wanted to burn that image of him into your mind forever.

 His eyes were half-lidded, the pupils blown completely, sweat stuck to his skin causing his hair to cling to his forehead. His cheeks flushed a beautiful red, his lips parted and swollen from his constant biting.

 He was perfect.

 You ignored the hand that was gripping your wrist and lowered your mouth further onto the head of his cock. He flinched, body shuddering as you started sinking down lower. Your mouth was like a furnace, hot and wet, Kageyama didn’t think he could get any harder than he was.

 “W-What are you doing?” he choked out, reaching to pull you off his member. “Y-You shouldn’t put that in your -” you started swirling your tongue against his head. He whimpered loudly, biting at the neckline of his pullover, muffling the sounds that started to pour from his lips.

 You started moving, slowly dragging your mouth up and down, your tongue dragging against the underside of his cock. You continued this movement for a moment, before increasing the pace, and sucking harder.

 His hips thrusted up in a short and tight movement, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden touch, felt tears sting at your eyes, but it was worth it.

 His long fingers carefully reached down and dragged gently against your cheek, he was staring at you, pleasure contorting his face beautifully.

 “You’re so pretty.” he breathed out, his breath getting caught in his throat as you began flicking your tongue rapidly against his head now.

 “I… ngh… I’m not - not gonna last… l-long.” he stuttered out. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth, and then you began to feel thick spurts of cum hit your tongue, you hummed softly at the taste of him, easily swallowing his load down your throat. 

 Carefully you pulled your mouth off of his softening member, watching him as he struggled to breathe, his eyes were screwed shut still, his brows furrowed.

 “Tired?” you asked softly, your hand gentling rubbing against one of his locked thighs. His eyes fluttered open, staring at you in awe. He nodded softly before tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting his clothes. 

 He held an arm out to you wordlessly, your body easily tucking into his side as you guys laid on your bed. His scent wafting into your nose, causing your eyes to flutter shut, you were tired now too.

 “I think… now I’ll be able to win my game tomorrow.” he said quietly after a moment. 

 Your lips twitched into a smile as you pressed your face deeper into his chest.

 “Go to sleep Tobio.”

[creativeashproductions]

We Wouldn’t Be Us // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: We get a look into the timeline of the reader and Charlie’s relationship from the first date that wasn’t so perfect to the news they get. The relationship has its ups and downs like all relationships do but this one brings the birth of a song. They know in their relationship that anything less just wouldn’t be them

Warnings: Swearing, an argument, allusion to sex (NO SMUT), pure fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I suppose this is an entry for @cherrymaybank​’s Valentine’s Day Fic Challenge. 

Based on the song We Wouldn’t Be Us by Alexandra Kay

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Every dress didn’t seem to fit properly no matter what mirror with different light in your apartment you tried. The spare bathroom’s bulb was dying, so that made the colour appear off, and the best mirror was dirty, which would dampen the romantic goal. Nothing made you feel that oomph that you desired for this date. 

You could wear the standby little black dress of which you had two options, the clubbing one or the work appropriate one. It didn’t seem right to choose a standard black and no colour for this insanely sweet guy that had this insane energy. With that thought in mind, you dug deeper in your closet for that special dress that you’d never found someone worthy of it. It was your best dress and your most expensive with the tags still on. You would have gone for the maroon dress but it was Valentine’s Day and that seemed like over kill.

Somehow it still fit perfectly despite the length of time from purchase, it was a vibrant green satin with lace matching the colour. The dress's satin ended just below the knee with the matching lace falling an additional six inches past. The A-line skirt was loose flowing contrasting to the form-fitting material across your bust and midsection. 

One of your favourite parts of the dress was the off-shoulder bateau neckline that gave a tasteful sneak of your cleavage. The bottom of the thick straps came to make a perfectly straight horizontal line. Across your waist was a one-inch wide satin ribbon attached to the dress that formed a perfect bow that tied the outfit together, no pun intended.

“Whoa.” You breathed stepping in front of the floor-length mirror kept in the spare bedroom, it had once been your roommates’ room before she moved.

You had to admit the dress was magical with it, bringing out all your curves and went with your skin tone. It was a pure shock to see how you managed to make the dress come to life with just a makeup look that was easy to do. All you did next was your favourite beige heels that went with everything. You had just slid on the left heel when the buzzer sounded and slid the right on as you hit the button unlocking the apartment building door.

“This is going to be perfect.” You breathed leaning into the mirror beside the front door. You inspected your lipstick as a knock sounded on the dark brown wood of your door. 

“You look gorgeous.” Your date breathed, widening those colour changing irises as he took in your outfit, “You take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day”

Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you, Charlie.”

He stepped into the apartment as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab your coat and purse with your essentials. He had gently retrieved the coat from your arms to help you into the cold jacket. 

“I know traditionally I would have brought you flowers, but I also know you love books.” Charlie breathed grasping the items in his hands, “So I got these flowers.”

His warm hands held three books. The top one was The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley with a cover that had the background blurry with only the back of a girl in clarity. The girl’s pink dress matching the flower in the upper corner of the book. The next cover proudly displayed The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley with red flowers growing down on a stone building. The third one was a light pink book with an anatomically correct heart with flowers growing out of the arteries, veins and valves; a collection of poetry I Saw You As a Flower by Ellen Everett. Lastly, you held Rupi Kaur’s second collection of poetry The Sun and her Flowers that had come out a couple years ago.

“Charlie, this is so thoughtful. You even has a rose one!” You breathlessly spoke gently touching the covers, “Thank you so much for these.”

“I thought we could read them together?” Charlie was bashful as he quietly asked with flushed cheeks. He didn’t know why he felt like this was his very first date all over again.

“I’d love that.” You softly told the Canadian with the manners a mother would be jealous to have in her home. Charlie’s fingers linked with yours as he tugged you out of the apartment into the hallway.

Your hands swung during the short walk from the apartment building to his bright orange Subaru across the street. The sound of the light wind rustling the trees lining the sidewalk mixed with the humming from Charlie was a perfect film score. He was the ideal gentleman even before he asked you out.

You couldn’t wait to tell your close loved ones about Charlie. You could really see this going somewhere. The relationship that is, as you were now on the side of a road with the Subaru’s hazard lights flashing.

“I forgot to fill the tank.” Charlie moaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes clenched just as tight as his fists.

The Canadian was so embarrassed to have had what he thought was the best date of his life. He’d played music from the playlist he had patiently curated specifically for this date, and he held your hand to the restaurant. He’d already made plans for another date when his car’s warning beeped.

In Charlie’s haste, he’d forgotten to fuel up his car, so here he was with the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his passenger seat. His confidence in a second date had greatly diminished.

“Char, you said Owen was on his way. There isn’t anyone else I’d prefer to be stranded with. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I wanted this date to go perfect. This is my first Valentine’s Day with someone.” Charlie admitted turning his head to stare into warm pools of your e/y colours. His eyes scanned the soft smile that appeared on your face as his confession, “I had this whole thing planned out, and now you definitely won’t want a second-”

“I’m gonna kiss you. If you don’t want that, let me know.” You murmured before pulling him in for what would be the best kiss of your life thus far.

Sure his car broke down, but you kissed him anyway. He tasted of the complimentary chocolate dessert from dinner.

A Year Later

A young, admittedly broke couple sat on the cold floor of the unpacked kitchen eating SpaghettiOs. You had only just moved into the studio apartment with Charlie that had drained most of your savings. Had it not been in a decently safe area in the city and a close commute you would have said no.

But it was the perfect starting place for you two as you both were unfamiliar with living with an SO. It sucked on each of your ends to not have a better situation, Charlie wanted nothing more than to spoil you on the first day living together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible but sitting on the floor with a cheap candle was imperfectly perfect.

“I’m sorry we’re eating out of cans.” Charlie whispered pointedly, keeping his eyes on the spoon, stirring the red sauce with the beige circles.

“Char this is perfect. As long as it’s you and I then anything is perfect. Besides we didn’t label the boxes, I have no idea which box has our kitchenware.” You admitted glancing at the boxes boarding the edge of the room. 

You ate out of cans for at least a week before you had unpacked the kitchen and had the means to buy actual groceries. Living together thus far had been going super smooth until wasn’t.

It was a bad day on both your parts, your entire work was deleted after a computer glitch. Charlie had auditioned for a role he had been really really wanting since he heard about it. Your father came down with the flu axing the plans to meet for dinner; it would have been the first time in six months you saw him in person.

The apartment's atmosphere had been rising and very volatile by mid-afternoon when Charlie blatantly forgot a deal. If he was going to play music, it had to be in the study so you could focus on your work. 

Today he’d decided to be in close vicinity to have a virtual jam session with both Owen and Jeremy. He’d chosen the room you were in solely because it had the best wifi reception which you needed as well.

“Charlie, please can you go to the study? I’m trying to finish this!” You cried out as he struck a chord on the electric. His eyebrows came other in the glare he sent you, “I lost all my work last night.”

“The guys and I are working on songs-”

“-Charlie, this is due tonight. I can’t concentrate with-”

“It’s not my fault you have a shitty attention span!” Charlie angrily snapped contradicting the gentle touch on his guitar. He placed it back on the stand to not accidentally damage it, “The wifi is best in this room.”

“I’m very much aware of that Charlie. Out of the two of us, I use it the most. Can you please either move to the study or at least wait an hour so I can finish?” You pleaded with the Canadian actor ignoring the two guys on the computer silently waiting for the fight to be over.

“Why can't you mov-”

“Fine. I will.” You fully stared down your boyfriend for a full five seconds before you harshly closed the top of your computer. It took seconds to gather your work stuff into the leather satchel you stored the computer in, “You didn’t even mute the call.”

Charlie watched as you swiftly pulled on your jacket, “Babe-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut his sentence before he even had a chance to speak his thoughts. The apartment was eerily silent compared to the sounds of music that always played through the Bluetooth speaker.

The inspiration to play evaporated with the aftermath of a stupid argument permeated the apartment typically filled with love. All three actors quietly said their goodbyes before they ended the video call.

You spent an hour uncomfortably sitting in a cafe finishing up what you’d needed to finish with the argument replaying. Your finger barely hit the button to send the email before you had already stepped outside the business. You spent the walk struggling to draft a text to your boyfriend. 

It didn’t matter because when you walked into the apartment, you heard the soft song you’d both deemed yours. It was cheesy, but that was part of Charlie’s charm. Speaking of your boyfriend, he was sat on the floor of your kitchen with matching mugs of brownies.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” Charlie started as soon as your jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. His usually wide smile was as bashful as the one he’d worn on the night of your first date.

“No I’m sorry, Charlie. I could have easily put on my headphones or moved to the bedroom for a bit. The fight was stupid, and I love you so much that sometimes I think I take you for granted. I mean, look at you! You made the brownie cups-”

“Even sitting on the cold floor like when we moved in.” Charlie cheekily inserted, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “I like our tradition. I definitely like how we upgraded from SpaghettiOs to brownies.”

“Me too.” You breathed leaning over to press a lingering kiss on his lips. His hands delving into your hair to keep you close.

The butterflies stormed your stomach as the heat slowly inflated from your toes until it reached your flushing cheeks. Raw emotion pouring into the passionate kiss that only closed down as you broke for air. But you also went back in as that warmth slowly built in your tummies. Charlie’s eyes marginally opened to ensure he wasn’t imagining the Angel he got to kiss.

Finally, with heavy breathing, you pulled apart, but only a fleeting moment froze the time in the apartment. For, as soon as Charlie caught your dilated pupils, his one hand cupped the back of your hand, fingers tangled in your h/c tresses. 

Soon enough, you were making up on the kitchen floor with each article of clothing tossed in the vicinity. A shirt landed on the kitchen sink spout. The brownie mugs forgotten as you gave into the passion with your boyfriend. Your lovemaking had you missing supper.

Charlie’s solution was a trip to the local authentic English pub founded by a nice guy from London. You never failed to stop him for a dance in the empty street as his smooth voice gave music for smooth motions. Dancing was a common thing from pulling off the road in Dieppe to dance. You drank and danced at the pub until Jack cut you off at 2am as his pub rules had.

You and Charlie just laughed in a love bubble as the real-world worries faded because you always came together in the rough times.

Months later you returned to Dieppe with Charlie to spend the holidays with them. The entire family together creating such a welcoming atmosphere.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water.” You informed the group of gals ad non-binary pals who had gathered in Meghan’s bedroom. The group had decided to sleep over Meg’s childhood room with face masks, nail polish and lovely wine.

Meg and Jeannette both nodded to acknowledge your announcement before they returned to their respective conversations. You took a moment to take in the great group of Gillespie and Co you had the honour to be part of. The thirst was only temporarily forgotten in the happy bubble you found yourself in.

You practically skipped to the kitchen, barely noticing the two people in the living room, but their words stopped you in your tracks. Your boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie, stood close to his older brothers Ryan, Patrick and Michael.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry-” Charlie caught himself from finishing the sentence when he saw you standing pale-faced at the opening into the living room.

His entire body was encapsulated by the lights casting in the living room from the Christmas tree. The tree couldn’t hold a candle to the ring of your dreams that promptly had you bursting into tears.

“I RUINED THE SURPRISE!” You sobbed dropping your face into your cold hands, avoiding the gaze of the Gillespie brothers. Had you not been hiding in your hands you would have known the older three had vacated the room.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Charlie cooed with the ring safely put away in the box he had shoved back in his pocket, “You didn’t ruin the surprise. I shouldn’t have been telling my brothers in the middle of the living room.”

Charlie’s warm hands slowly pulled your hands from your soft post-mask skin with such a pretty healthy glow. He could see the remnants of the mask on the edge of your scalp, but it didn’t take away from your beauty.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring up at him from underneath your eyelashes. The soft hazel eyes not upset in the least, things often didn’t go the way you wanted to together.

Take the first date from over two years ago where you and Charlie had waited for Owen to meet you with a jug of gas. You’d shared childhood stories and future dreams. Or the time you hadn’t marked the boxes creating an entire week of eating out of cans and cartons.

Ruining the proposal was almost expected at this rate.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in that emerald dress I knew that you were the One for me. I’ve adored each moment I’ve gotten with you from the spontaneous dances on the side of the road. To bursting into song in the middle of the street.” Charlie shakily started with sweating bands but an open heart, “When your best friend told me the emerald dress was the special one, it melted my heart.”

“Charlie.”

“Other than my belief that this relationship will last, I was only ever sure of one thing in my life. I was sure I would be an actor, but now I’m more sure that my favourite role will be supporting you, loving you and evolving with you as your husband.” Charlie sniffled, taking one hand from yours to wipe the tears flooding his cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathed lunging on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Your hands caressed the skin of his cheeks; his long tresses tickling your wrists.

“God I love you.” Charlie gushed with a gentle shake of his head. His hazel pinned to your e/c eyes as if you were the most precious gem in the world.

A voice cut the bubble enveloping you, “Well are you gonna put the ring on her finger or what?”

Charlie’s head moved to meet the teary eyes of his mother surrounded by his siblings as they bounced on their feet. You laughed as your now fiance clumsily rushed to slide the absolutely gorgeous ring on your finger. 

“Welcome to the family officially.” Jeannette cheered along with the celebratory whistles and yells as the crowd of the family grew more and more. Soon enough, the entire room was overflowing with people congratulating your new engagement.

Months later, you stood in front of that same group holding the hands of your handsome fiance. Both dressed to the nines in front of the officiant.

“I wasn’t looking for a fairytale, because they all end the same. The princess has a conflict that she revolves with the help of the prince. They get married and live happily ever after. I adore how we’re writing our own story that fits our relationship. Charlie Gillespie, I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way even with the fighting and slamming doors, but we always end up on our kitchen floor making up with two brownies in mugs.” Your vows brought tears among the onlookers along with the Canadian barely keeping it together.

The vows would later be eloquently transformed into lyrics from you with the accompanying melody provided by Charlie. On Valentine’s Day, you played the song on the kitchen floor with a plate of brownies. Three brownies waiting to be devoured.

“Three for each of us.” You wept as you watched as Charlie melted into a puddle of joyful tears. He took no time in placing his hand over your flat stomach.

Yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when Valentine’s Day become more to the Gillespie family; a new little love taking up the day.

(Reader’s Dress In Beginning)

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[sinnamonrasinslut]

The Ease With Which We Hurt [I] ICorpse Husband x Fem!ReaderI

A/N: You guys. I have never simultaneously loved AND hated a piece that I wrote. I really don’t know how I feel about this, but I promised myself last year that I wouldn’t overthink my writing, so here we are. This is part one of most likely four, but we’ll see about that. Thank you to everyone in my inbox who gave me ideas to turn this into a multi chapter fic! They’re all coming, I promise :)

SYNOPSIS: Corpse loves her, she loves Corpse. But both of them are too dumb to realize it, and too afraid to admit it. 

It started, like most good things in his life, out of the blue.

He met her three years ago. Well, not met, but befriended her three years ago when her podcast was just taking off. He remembers sending her a DM about how great her work was, remembers her being gracious in her praise of his own narrations after and he remembers talking to her well into the night until she fell asleep. The rest, to Corpse, is history.

And yet, all he knows of her is a voice, a name, and the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. she chooses to wear a mask every time they FaceTime, just for the formality of the entire ‘faceless’ situation. She’s told him she thinks it’s ironic, how she feels like he knows her inside out, and she’s still afraid to show him her face. It’s not like corpse can blame her. She doesn’t even know his name, let alone what he looks like, and it’s a miracle she hasn’t filed him away as some no face creep by this point. 

But she hasn’t. She’s still here, after three years of being her friend, and almost a year of seeing her eyes and convincing himself that she’s his friend, damnit, she’s still here. It’s already a lot more than he can ask for.

He’s been holding himself back from falling in love. Or rather, he’s been in love for as long as he can remember, but he's been adamant on denying it; because he knows how this goes. It’s never gone well for him in the past. And he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s afraid. But sometimes, she tells him things that make his heart break, just out of the realization of how absolutely fucking stupid he's being, holding back from her.

He’s convinced that when he dies, she’s going to be the light at the end of his tunnel. That heaven means nothing more to him than a place in her world, however small, however insignificant, as long as he gets to see her eyes for the rest of eternity.

Every part of corpse tells him that it's love. But he tries to push it away, suppress his own feelings till he's nothing but a walking contradiction, overflowing with voices that only say her name.

But he’s tired. And he's scared. Because he’s been down that road before, opened himself up to people who haven’t liked what they saw and left with pieces of him he’s not sure how to tape back. He’s unsure if he's willing to let her try.

So, he settles for a small corner of her world, a little piece of her existence that gives him life, and every time he talks to her, hands flailing as she animatedly tells another story, he pushes the yearning to the back of his head till it crawls down and clings to his windpipe, unsure and immeasurable, and he can’t speak anymore without choking. But then she says things that make his heart jump into his throat, and then he’s choking but for entirely different reasons.

“What would you do if I was gone?”

He doesn’t mean it like that. Well, he does, a little bit, but his brain isn’t taking over every part of his body trying to convince him he’s unwanted, so he doesn’t mean it like that. He’s only curious, maybe in need of a little reassurance. And nobody does reassurance better than her.

She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment. Corpse knows the gist of her impending answer but the pause still blooms unnecessarily in his chest. But it’s not like they haven’t done this before.

“I’d write about you.”

“Huh?”

She only huffs a laugh at his confusion. She pulls a blanket closer around her and props up her phone to rest against what he assumes is a wall.

“You’re not easy to forget, Corpse,” her voice is soft, truthful without flattery, provides comfort without justification. “if you were gone, I’d write about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s the least I’d need to cope.”

It’s not what he thought he’d hear, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that it’s exactly what he needed. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her. 

“Besides,” she continues, hair falling in her face as she adjusts the blanket, “there is no place for me in a world without you in it.” 

 And he physically feels his heart stop and clench in his chest. The thought of meaning this much to anyone, to her in particular, is more than he knows how to handle. So, he doesn’t follow that up with a quip, no teasing laughter, no suggestive, exaggerated winks that only he can see. He only lets himself bask in the warmth of her honesty, lets her smile at him in that way only she does, the way that makes him freeze and ache and crumble.

He chooses not to talk after that, settles for listening to her tell stories about her childhood. Her voice is the purest thing he’s ever heard, he’d hear her talk till the world ended if he could, and the sweet lilt of her voice lulls him to sleep hours after she’s hung up the phone.

He doesn’t get to talk to her for almost two weeks after that. He misses her a little, but he keeps that to himself, and instead, tags her under dumb twitter memes and sends her pictures of cats that he’s saved specifically for times like these, and another video of two geckos fighting on a tree captioned ‘u and me’ .

There’s no place for me in a world without you in it.

The words wrap around his ribs like a noose, tightening by the second. Some days, when his heart is fast enough to beat out of his ribcage, it grounds him just as much as it hurts. But when she’d said it to him, it passed through him like a train wreck, distorting all semblance of control he’d convinced himself he had.

He knows it’s ridiculous, but he loves her. She’s only a voice through his phone and eyes on his screen and he has no clue what the rest of her looks like, but he’d be damned if he lets himself deny it one more time. He loves her. And that’s the most terrifying thought he’s ever entertained.

It doesn’t take long after that realization takes root, for him to send her a picture. He doesn’t let himself think too much about it. Taking pictures of himself is still new to him, but he tries his best. Don't think about it too much, he reminds himself, and unsurprisingly, it's her voice in his head that does all the soothing. He captions it something stupid, more out of habit than anything else (my hair makes me look like Dora the exploraH), with his name across his forehead and ‘Dora’ in brackets beside it. 

Momentarily, he wonders if he’s ever asked her if she even wants to see his face. (He has, and he distantly remembers her agreeing as long as he’s comfortable with it.)

He hits send before he has the chance to stop and think. 

Then he waits. 

Her response is quicker than he’s prepared for, her name flashing across the facetime request on his phone. He’s giggling before he even picks it up. 

“CORPSE, WHAT THE FUCK!” 

For a very long moment, they just stare, taking each other in. This is his endgame, corpse thinks, he’s never going to need to show anyone his face after this, nothing, no one will matter as much. 

With a jolt, he realizes that she’s not wearing her mask. He can see her, all of her, and that on its own should be enough to take him out.

And then she smiles. 

If there was any doubt in his mind before about how head over heels he is, she’s taken it out of his mind and stomped it to the ground. He’s not the poet in this friendship, but he’s assured he could write entire paragraphs about the way she smiles. And he tells her exactly that. 

“I’m curious to see how that would fit with fine lass nice ass cat ears and she uwu,” she teases, eye twinkling with mirth, “but I'm sure you’ll figure it out.” 

He’s both amazed and amused at how quickly they go from fawning to bantering. But perhaps that’s the thing about her that feels so familiar.

“I will write a song about you baby, don’t tempt me.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“It’s a confession,” he shrugs, suddenly shy, unsure of where to lead with this. Thankfully, she interjects before he has to say anything else. 

“That’s an awfully bold confession for a man called Corpse.”

“I’m also awfully alive for a man called Corpse, but you don’t see me complaining.” Awfully alive and not enough husband, he wants to say, but he keeps that to himself. 

“You complain about being alive everyday, Mister Husband,” she counters and Corpse groans, dropping his head into his hands. 

“I say that to you in confidence,” he grits out, playfully glazing at her.

“You also tell about a million people on stream, I’m not special,” she laughs. 

“You are very special to me.” His voice is soft, shy, almost afraid to tell her the things he’s saying, “I did say I’d write a song about you. Pretty special if you ask me.”

She hums, taking a huge gulp of water and nodding enthusiastically. 

“Correct, me, the cat girl and the e girl. What’s the next single, Corpse? Faceless Girls are ruining my life?” 

“You’re a rascal,” he chides as a familiar warmth settles around his heart, and grips. 

“It is one of my finer qualities, yes.” 

Distantly, some part of his brain registers that this is the first time he’s seen her, but there is no sense of hesitation in his head about her. It feels just like it always has, with her on the phone saying the silliest things, and him responding with equal enthusiasm. This is the way they’ve always been. 

While she talks, hands animatedly moving around, Corpse allows himself a small moment of reprieve to think. He knows he loves her, but he wonders briefly if it’s too soon to be in love with her (he concludes that probably it is, given that she remains unaware of his feelings, but he finds that it doesn’t really matter)

Because while Corpse loves her, he’s sure he doesn't know how to love her. Doesn’t know her favourite flowers even if he knows her coffee order by heart, doesn’t know her ideal date even if he’s memorized every poem she loves. 

The meanest parts of his brain tell him she deserves better, and he knows they’re wrong. But a small part of him can’t help but dwell. He’d rather have her and her unnecessary hand movements in his life as his friend than not at all. So he pushes away his feelings for another day, and just listens to her talk. 

Corpse is perfectly content with that.