#i say that but it's coming along nicely (already the same length as the first one)

[bldwspr]

the sillies <3

[jpbpxma]

pour some sugar on in me;

content warnings/tags: very nsfw, contains smut, breeding kink, pre/no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, age gap (as you want it).

It originally started off as a scare. You both got drunk after a New Year's party and ended up having a passionate night of sex- without protection, leading you to think you've gotten pregnant. Although it's been a year and a half since you got married, it had been a mutual agreement that kids were not in your future plans; Joel, thinking he might be too old for it and you, just not wanting that type of burden/responsibility in your life. However, when you found out you were not, in fact, pregnant, Joel found himself oddly disappointed and told you about it. "I dunno, it just felt nice to think of having a little one running around, being all cute 'n all," he had said. Surprising yourself, you agreed with him. So you decided to officially to start trying. And now, he couldn't get enough.

He's never been able to have sex with you raw like this before so every chance he could get, he found himself getting worked up and ended up taking you right then and there, no matter where you were or what time is was. Whether it's right when you woke up in the morning, when you were in the shower, when you were in the car, in the kitchen, and even a few times when you were in public. Not that you were complaining, you were enjoying it as much as Joel was. You loved the feeling of intimacy and you were constantly in a state of post-orgasm bliss.

"Hey, what you up to? " You hear Joel say from behind you, shuffling closer to put his arms around your shoulders and rest his chin on your head. "Finishing this dreadful assignment, why? " You question him, raising an eyebrow. "No reason, you're just looking really sexy right now," he hums as he places a kiss on the top of your head. "Joel, I'm literally in an oversized sweater and pajamas," you deadpan, even though you felt butterflies at his words. Ignoring you, he massages your shoulders under your sweater, his touch as electrifying to you as it was the first time. When you involuntarily let out a soft moan at a particularly sensitive spot, he reaches over to close your laptop and spins your chair around.

"Okay, that's it. You're coming with me," he announces. Before you realize what's happening, he has you in his arms, carrying you over his shoulder to your bedroom. He smacks your ass hard, making you yelp, before throwing you down on the bed. "You're crazy," you laugh out. "Uh yeah, crazy for you, baby," he counters, clearly proud of his comeback. God, he was such a dad already. He chuckles when you roll your eyes, taking his shirt and shorts off in the process. Now that you were in bed and after seeing those delicious arms, thighs, just everything of his on display, you were definitely getting in the mood too.

You run your fingers up his soft tummy, getting up to kiss along the little hairs that lead down his happy trail, smirking when you feel him let out a shaky breath. You pull down his boxers, his already stiff cock springing free, hitting his stomach. Licking your lips, you get closer to take him in your mouth when he pulls you back by the hair to meet his eyes. "Maybe another time, baby girl, right now I need to be inside you," he says impatiently, pushing you back into the bed before taking your pajamas and panties off.

Climbing on top of you, he cages you in his arms, kissing you fervently. You kiss back with the same intensity, your hands on either side of his face to hold him in place. He pulls away from the kiss, pressing one more peck to your lips before lifting himself up to slide between your spread legs. You can feel every ridge and vein of his length as he pushes into you- you could never get used to how much more pleasurable it felt uninhibited by a condom. "Oh my-" he grunts in a low voice, you know it feels worlds better for him too, "Fuck, you feel so good, baby." You squeeze around him at the compliment, biting your lip to muffle your moans.

"Joel, please, move already," you whine desperately. He takes your ankle and hooks your leg over his shoulder, shifting closer and pushing in to bottom out completely. You watch, enraptured, as he pulls out to the tip, and slams back into you. You cry out, gripping the bedsheets tightly as he smirks, pleased with your reaction. He sets a fast pace right off the bat, hips working into overdrive as he fucks you the way he knew both of you liked.

The only sounds resonating through the room were the sounds of skin slapping and the moans and groans you were both letting out. At this angle, he connects with your clit with each thrust. You wiggle your hips just a little and he hits it square on and that's when you really scream. "Oh fuck, you like it that much? " Joel asks earnestly. The corner of his mouth lifts smugly when you nod frantically, slowing down a bit to make his thrusts hit your sweet spot more accurately.

You're beside yourself with pleasure, he knew exactly how to get you to your peak and in the most ecstasy-filled way possible. He could tell you were close by the sounds you were making, lowering himself down, still slamming just as hard into you. He messily kisses your neck, your jaw, then moves up to nibble on your earlobe, whispering, "Want me to fill you to the brim with my cum and then fuck it all back into you again? Want to get pregnant with my children? Be my good little baby maker, hm? You'd like that, wouldn't you? "

His words combined with his thrusting send you careening over the edge and you convulse without warning, orgasm washing over you as you grip his shoulders for support. You clench around him involuntarily and he's so caught off guard by your sudden orgasm that he's sent over the edge into his, too. You feel his cum, hot inside you, pumping into you with every thrust. Joel is still deep inside of you as he finishes, his hands caressing all up and down your body.

"Well shit, we're really good at this, aren't we? " You nod, still out of breath and voice lost from all the screaming. He snorts at your inability to reply verbally but hums and bites along your neck as he nestles himself deeper into you and gathers you in his arms. "My beautiful girl, I don't think we're going to have any problem having kids." You couldn't help but smile. You didn't think you are, either.

[xoxochb]

i’d loveee to request an apollo x daughter ares and aphrodite smut if possible.. 😓

guess who’s back…

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“you’re unhealthily addicted!” your voice is shaky, coming out between uncontrollable laughs.

“addicted?” your husband perks up from your neck, pecks along your in stifling his words. “I simply love my wife, is that a crime? would you prefer I hate you?”

“sometimes I think my life would be far easier if so. you cling to me like a child.”

“you love me, say it.”

you groan and throw your head back, this new angle giving apollo better access of your neck. you only realized this too late. “I love you.”

“great. I love you too.”

“you’re such a fucking ass.”

he remains silent, only a silent hum along your skin, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine. his hand, once roaming your clothed waist, finds the skin of your thigh from underneath your dress, goosebumps in the trailing wake of his fingertips.

“what do you think you’re doing?” your voice holds skepticism despite your already knowing. very much all too well.

“nothing.”

you roll your eyes. you don’t want to fight this— as much as you would love nothing more than pushing apollo off and taunting him, you also ache for his touch in an embarrassing way that would surely be concerning to all feminism.

so you allow his fingers to loop through the waistband of your pretty pink panties, and at an antagonizing slow pace, pull them down the length of your thighs.

“leaving my dress on? mhm.”

“patience, darling.”

though as soon as the words leave your mouth, his other hand slides the straps of your dress down your shoulders, only reaching about halfway before stopping, ultimately leaving your dress on as predicted.

but with it falling like this, apollo has new access to your chest, kissing over the new skin now. the same hand that had dragged your lace fabric down your legs rubs your thighs delicately, with each, inching closer to your pulsing core.

you wish he wouldn’t tease you like this.

“please. you’re killing me here.”

“we’ve talked about having patience, haven’t we?”

you tug at his blond locks viscously, ushering his fingers to enter you at last.

and they do. but not after two minutes more of whines from your bruised lips.

the utter ecstatic feeling hits you instantly— and half relief from his finally listening to your pleads. though you knew after the first it wouldn’t take long for him to cave into your wishes.

you were his beloved wife after all.

but this also doesn’t mean he’s all that nice to you.

with the most leisurely pace humanly (or not so) possibly, his thumb rubs your clit, surely knowing you will be angry with this. and he is right in that.

“will you…” you try to conquer the words as your brain is entirely fuzzy at the moment. “please.”

apollo does not listen. his lips continue their way along your skin, surely marking you up to the brim. and you had dinner with your mother tonight— you would make sure he would not hear the end of this.

without a warning, a second finger enters you. you bite down hard along your bottom lip, stifling any sound that threatens to escape from your mouth. you know he hates that— but you presume you can tease as much as he can— that’s fair.

your poor eyes fill with tears at the godly effect to which he fingers you, your poor makeup so nicely done ruined by your salty tears.

“I despise you.” your words are gritted through clenched teeth.

but though you say this, you unfortunately love him all the same.

[leighbaye]

🖤 ₊˚⊹ — eldest daughter of the malfoy family (1) #DISCONTINUED

parring ➵ draco malfoy x sibling f!reader

summary ➵ family portraits with your little shit of a younger brother.

age of parring ➵ 16 - 18

warnings ➵ fluff

extra ➵ might become a multi - part series, but don’t take my word for it. reader’s middle name is named after bellatrix. thanks to @cafekitsune for banners! second chapter here.

here you were in the manor, in your large but dull gloomy dark room. subtle touches of your personal belongings scattered all about.

you’ve gotten news from your father, lucius, that the family was gonna retake yet another family portrait, it would’ve bugged you then but it happened every year. so what could’ve you done?

you were touching up your hair, defining your blowout and pining it up in a nice up - do, as your mother, narcissa, requested. you applied your favorite lipstick/lipgloss before you heard footsteps approaching.

you looked through the reflection of the mirror on your vanity as you added your desired pair of earrings, some bracelets, and layering some necklaces. the final touch being a matching ring you had with draco.

it was a simple stacking ring, engraved with your full first name, middle inital, following with the complete last name on it. you had a matching one with draco.

DRACO L. MALFOY — Y/N B. MALFOY

the baby of the family, who has grown to a young man, walked in without knocking. you clicked your tongue in annoyance, draco got the memo.

❝ m-may i come in? ❞

❝ you are already in. ❞ you scoffed softly, noticing the scowl on his face.

❝ sorry. ❞ he said blandly, you replied saying ❝ don’t worry about it dray, i need your help anyway. ❞

you sat up, walking up to a full length mirror in the left corner of your bedroom, draco following behind.

you fixed any sort of crimple and wrinkle on your dress whatsoever with a whip of your wand.

you presented yourself with a elongated black maxi dress, with a slit on the left side revealing your leg, the bust lined with black lace detailing, the same detailing of the thin straps.

you sported a pair of black crystal covered pointy toe high heels, a beautiful glamorous black cluster crystal on top of it. it was from a muggle high - end store, something along the lines of jimmy choo.

you ran your hands every curve, admiring yourself and catching a glimpse of your dark mark on your left arm, running your hand up and down the same arm.

as you did so, you were unaware of what draco was thinking.

draco malfoy, disliked by his fellow peers in the same year, most in a complete different house, known for his undeniable prejudice toward blood status.

one thing he was also known for was you, and he knew that of course.

anytime anyone would look, speak, or even breathe around you, he would always and constantly eye them.

he would clench his fist anytime someone would utter a bad mouth about you and disregard you as a person. no matter who it was, he would walk past and shove them so hard on purpose with no hesitation.

he absolutely hated people who would do so, cause you usually never did anything to anyone. back when he was a second year, you being in your third year, when the heir of slytherin was petrifying muggle borns, he never heard the end of it with the accusations of you being the heir.

reconnecting with the present, he looked at you lovingly with his hands in his blazer pockets. how he blazingly loved his older sister. every little thing you did, he always and never thought you weren’t the best at.

❝ you look beautiful sister. ❞ he said softly.

❝ you really think so? don’t you think its too much? ❞

he chuckled responding spontaneously with, ❝ too much or too little, you always look gorgeous. ❞

❝ oh i love you so much brother. ❞ you sighed placing you hands on his face kissing his forehead, being able to easier because of the shoes you were wearing.

you grabbed you favorite purfume, spritzing some on your wrists, collarbones, behind your ears. then spraying some near draco, giggling as he waved his arms coughing trying to prevent getting a feminine fragrance from attaching to his clothing.

❝ let’s be on our way now, mother and father have been holding up long enough. ❞ you ordered.

he enterwined his arm with yours eyeing down at your shoes, being patient with you as you have a disadvantage of walking quickly.

the both of you reached the hallway, sounds of clicking and clacking shoes echoed throughout the halls. draco was talking about the new school year at hogwarts approaching, to say he was displeased would be understatement.

the both of you kept walking til you guys reached the wall full with frames of family pictures. from the moment lucius and narcissa were engaged, their wedding ceremony, your birth, draco’s birth, both of you and draco’s first year at hogwarts ; and so on.

one picture caught your attention, you grimaced.

it was when you were starting in your fifth year and draco in his forth. the thing that bothered you so much was you short hair phase and short your dress was. it was way to provocative for a sixteen year old.

listen your hair would’ve been so adorable if you have gotten layers but oh well.

❝ oh my god. i looked ghastly! ❞ you almost shrieked.

❝ i cannot believe you let your little brother walk out like that. ❞ uttered draco disapprovingly.

it then turned into a five minute rambling of you calling your younger brother cute and squealing at his undefined face back when he was eleven.

draco only flushed and continued letting his older sister call him names he hasn’t been called in years, he was pulling on your dress mumbling for you to quit it.

unknowingly to the both of you, narcissa was watching her eldest daughter and baby son holding hands and giggling at each other’s portraits, telling stories of the days each portrait was taken.

how it made her happy knowing draco had you watching over him and growing up with a role model, regardless of the both of you growing up, you and draco will always be her children.

❝ draco, y/n, it’s time to get going. your father and aunt bellatrix are getting impatient. ❞

❝ sorry mother.❞ the both of you said in unison, quickly walking to in front of her.

narcissa stood on his tip toes, even with heels on, and kissed draco and you on the cheek, caressing her towering children as she smiled at.

❝ cmon now, run along! ❞

draco quickly ran to narcissa’s left side as you stayed on her right, both of you simultaneously wrapping your arms around hers and made your way out to the center of the manor.

lucius checked his watch groaning at the fact that his children are almost twenty minutes late to the shoot.

bellatrix cleared her throat impatiently, she had to meet with the dark lord in an hour, she wouldn’t be able to unless her niece and nephew were aware of the time.

nacrissa came in with a smile, one that both her sister and husband noticed in a heartbeat.

❝ narcissa, where is y/n and draco? ❞ asked lucius asked blandly, bellatrix glanced wanting to know.

before narcissa could answer, you and draco came in, making unnecessary fixes to your hair and outfits, holding out a compact mirror in front of the both of you.

❝ oh, my beautiful niece! you really outdid yourself, come here my sweet! ❞ bellatrix cooed as you smiled and closed the compact, walking up to her.

kisses were being plastered all over your face, lucius signaling draco to come up to his father.

draco went up and watched as his father fixed his tie silently chuckling at the sight of his beautiful daughter all dolled up.

❝ sorry father, it was my fault draco was late. i would’ve been at lot earlier if i hadn’t kicked him out of my room. ❞ you exclaimed softly.

❝ that’s quiet alright y/n, i should’ve known it takes young ladies a quite amount of time to prepare themselves. ❞ he grabbed your arm reassuringly.

❝ you know where to go, take the lead draco, y/n. ❞

you and draco obliged and went down to the living room and sat together in a forest green velvet vintage lounge chair holding hands, as the adults stood behind.

a couple of pictures, mixing it up quite often, it was finally the malfoy children portraits.

sitting down, standing up, backsides, and many serious and some smiling pictures later, the both of you hugged and you reminded draco how much you appreciated him.

the both of you snapped back into reality facing the wizarding world equivalent of a camera in surprise as a flash blinded the both of you, laughing at the moment that would make this yearly family portrait tradition memorable.

୨⎯ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡 ⎯୧

[floralcyanide]

What about number 13 from smut list no 1, (high on adrenaline kind of sex) with Javi for the saturday night sleepover? 👀

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

find this prompt and more, here!

Javi Rivera x Fem!Reader

prompt: high on adrenaline kind of sex

You were not expecting the first chase with Javi to go as great as it did.

It’s been years since the two of you have chased together, and the last time went awry very quickly, the two of you losing all of your friends in the process. Javi had the opportunity to figure out how tornadoes work and needed your help. So here you are, the two of you driving in the direction away from the tornado that successfully got the Storm Par to work. 

Javi is grinning from ear to ear, and so are you. It’s nice to see your best friend smile like this. Years ago, you were often the reason why he would be caught in a good mood. But ever since the accident, you haven’t had the chance to see Javi in a state of grace. 

Once you’re a reasonable distance away, Javi parks on the edge of a wooded area. The two of you look at each other and burst out laughing.

“That was insane! I can’t believe it worked!” you cry out,  hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the truck.

You shield your eyes as you watch the tornado disappear into the sky, Javi exiting the truck and joining you where you stand.

“It worked because of your help,” Javi elbows you in the side.

“Oh, don’t forget that it was you who convinced me to come here,” you wag a finger at Javi, who unlocks the truck bed door, laying it down so the two of you could sit on it.

You hop up on it, “Any word from Scott or the others yet?”

“I think we’re all too busy celebrating,” Javi says, slotting himself between your open legs.

“How would you like to celebrate, then?” you bite your lip, eyeing Javi as he leans in close to you.

“Like this,” he encloses the space between the two of you, bringing his lips to yours.

There’s always been something between you and Javi, and you could never quite put your finger on it. But the soaring adrenaline and mind numbing energy pumping through you only makes you eager to find out. You lay back on the truck bed, Javi following as he hovers over you, not breaking the kiss. In a hyper frenzy, both of you remove what clothing you can in order to get access to one another.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Javi kisses along your neck hungrily.

“Oh, I have an idea of how long,” you say jokingly, carding your fingers through his curls.

“Really?” Javi kisses down your chest and along the edge of your bra, “How long then?”

“Since college,” you say, “So how about you get on with it?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Javi pushes your underwear aside, plunging two fingers inside your already soaking cunt.

You gasp, immediately grinding on his fingers. Your heart is racing still, the high still not subsiding. Javi feels just as pumped up on the adrenaline from moments ago, and wastes no time to pull his underwear down and his length out. Javi fills you up quickly, but allows you to adjust to him before moving. 

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” you groan, your hands gripping Javi’s biceps.

Javi chuckles as he thrusts particularly hard into you, “I can say the same about you.”

He picks up his pace, both of your pulses racing in your ears as you meet his thrusts. It’s sloppy and high octane, you’re panting and sweating but you don’t care. All you know is that this feels so good- so right. Javi fits with you like a perfect puzzle piece. You cum around him with a loud cry, your orgasm rocking your body. Javi pulls out and finishes on your stomach, nearly collapsing into you. With what little energy you can muster from the adrenaline crash, the two of you get cleaned up and redressed, climbing back into the truck.

Javi checks his phone to see several missed calls from Scott and the team.

“Looks like the celebration is over.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for @qwertynerd97; the one where Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! Cut for length.

“Sure,” Lynn says, and Billy gets up and thinks to himself–okay, if they’ve got a few minutes before they need to leave . . . 

“There’s one thing,” he says, then ducks into the hall and into the linen closet where he hid Tawky’s stuffed animal form, ‘cause he wasn’t really sure if Lynn would feel outnumbered meeting them both at once, and also wasn’t sure if Kid Flash’s parents would have opinions about wild animals in the apartment and all. Not that Tawky’s wild, obviously–Tawky is a respectable gentleman! But some people don’t understand that, so it just seemed smarter to avoid the issue for now. He didn’t want to make the first time Lynn met Tawky weird or awkward. 

Tawky’s the best. Billy definitely doesn’t want Lynn to get a bad first impression of him because somebody else doesn’t get that. 

“. . . what thing?” Lynn asks after a moment. Billy brushes Tawky’s fur into careful order, because he knows Tawky hates to look messy, then straightens his little bow tie and nice tweed cardigan for him even though they don’t really need it. Tawky wanted to look nice today, for meeting Lynn and all. Billy understood, so he got the magic to make him something to wear too, and he thinks Tawky looks really gentlemanly and refined! 

“I can introduce you, if you’re ready to come out?” he offers, taking Tawky back down the hall and out into the living room with him. It’s not a great time for Tawky to turn into his real form, since they’re indoors and Batman might get the wrong idea about a full-sized tiger suddenly showing up, and also none of the furniture is really gonna fit him at full-size either. Billy makes a mental note to buy more beanbag chairs when they can. He’ll have to ask Batman where he got the ones that’re already here, so they’ll match and all. Or at least be complementary, anyway? He really wants the apartment to look nice for Lynn. 

He hopes Lynn and Tawky get along. Tawky’s his best friend, and Lynn’s his kid, so it’d really suck if they didn’t. And Tawky’s great, and he’s already sure Lynn is too, so he’d hate for them to miss out on making . . . friends, he guesses? 

Well, maybe that’s a little weird. Not that Lynn doesn’t already have a lot of older friends, and obviously Billy does too, but if they’re all gonna be living together, welllll . . . 

Lynn comes out into the hall and Billy brightens reflexively and grins over at him. Lynn’s still wearing the same Superman T-shirt and stuff, but his backpack’s gone. Billy feels pretty good about that. He never felt safe enough in new foster homes to leave his backpack anywhere, no matter who else was in it. Lynn doesn’t have the same experience, obviously, but it’s still reassuring that he’s at least comfortable enough to leave his bag unattended. 

Also, hopefully means he’s not planning to sneak off and run away when they go out. 

“Introduce me to who?” Lynn asks, folding his arms across his chest and looking uncomfortable. 

“This is your Uncle Tawky!” Billy introduces cheerfully, holding Tawky out to him. Lynn stares at him. Then he stares at Billy. 

“. . . a stuffed tiger?” he says slowly. 

“He’s a gentleman,” Billy reassures him, still holding Tawky out to let them both get a good look at each other. He and Tawky already talked about both being careful not to scare Lynn, since they didn’t think he’d be used to tigers or know if Cadmus would’ve told him anything about them. And Lynn’s really little, so he might get freaked out easier than an actual sixteen year-old would, Billy figures. 

. . . well, he guesses actual sixteen year-olds get freaked out by tigers too, depending on the situation? But Lynn’s invulnerable, sooooo . . . kind of hard to guess either way? 

Better safe than sorry, Tawky had said, and Billy had decided that made sense. It’s not like Tawky minds being a stuffed animal, anyway, and a stuffed tiger definitely fits into the apartment better than a thousand-pound one would. And maybe Lynn will like having a stuffed animal around anyway, since he’s technically a baby and all. He’s probably never had one, right? And Tawky really does give the best hugs. 

“. . . Uncle Tawky,” Lynn says, glancing warily at Tawky again. 

“Oh, he’s not your literal uncle,” Billy clarifies. He probably should’ve been clearer about that, considering. “Like I said, I don’t actually have any family or anything except you and my uncle, and he’s awful. But Tawky’s not like that at all! He’s my best friend.” 

“. . . you know how old I am, right?” Lynn asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah,” Billy says, giving him a puzzled look at the question. Lynn’s four days old. Or almost four days old, anyway. Billy figures the in-pod time was more like an in-utero situation, considering. He’s not sure why Lynn’s asking him that right now, though? 

“. . . . . . right,” Lynn says, then reaches out and very gingerly takes Tawky from him. He holds him kind of awkwardly, so Billy figures he was right about Lynn never having a stuffed animal before. It’s great that they’re already getting along, though! He didn’t think Lynn would want to hold Tawky right away. He seems kind of . . . reserved? Shy? 

Maybe both, really. 

“He can stay in your room, if you want,” Billy offers. “He’ll protect you!”

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, looking mystified as he looks down at Tawky again. Billy figures it’s just the whole thing with not having had a stuffed animal before and beams encouragingly at him. 

“Great!” he says happily, clapping his hands together once. He knows Lynn’s invulnerable, obviously, but he’ll just feel a lot better knowing Tawky’s around to help keep an eye on Lynn whenever he’s busy with Justice League missions and Champion of Magic duties. Plus Tawky’s really good at eating nightmares and stuff like that? And nightmares suck for little kids, so Billy thinks that’ll probably help too. 

He's so glad they’re already getting along.

[luveline]

JADEEEE I love roan so much can we please have a mother daughter day??? And Roan tells everything they did to Eddie as soon as they get home and he’s just so happy that you love roan so much !!!!!

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly step)mom!reader

"What is it called again?" Roan asks. 

You smile down at her little beatific grin, knowing that she knows and knowing that she wants you to say it again. "It's called a mother-daughter day. Where moms and their daughters spend the whole day doing mom and daughter stuff, like manicures and haircuts and coffee. Or, cake. No coffee for you, princess."

Eddie's blow dried Roan's hair so that almost all of her curls agave been straightened, and the dark length of it fans over her shoulders, soft as spun silk. He dropped you and Roan off in the centre of Hawkins town to spend a day with Wayne (that you called a father-son day, and he called chores day —Wayne's not taking me out for shopping and treats, sweetheart, he's gonna break my back in the yard).

The very first port of call, you decide, is hair. You take Roan into a quiet hair stylist's where you'd made two appointments, her smaller hand swinging in yours. The room is cool but inviting, and it doesn't take much convincing to get her into one of the chairs. 

"What do we want?" the hairdresser asks, bending down on Roan's left and meeting her eyes in the mirror. 

You do the same to her right. "We don't want much cut off, do we, Ro?" 

You'd already talked about it with her yesterday, wanting to make sure she doesn't have anything done that she doesn't want, or anything Eddie doesn’t approve of. 

"No, just the little bit," Roan says. 

"Can she have a wash and blow dry, too?" you ask. "She has the most beautiful curls when it's dry. We only did it like this today so she could see how much was being cut off." 

The hairdresser agrees with gusto. A second hairdresser comes along to do your hair, and it's a good thing you'd wanted Roan to have the full treatment, because you almost mess your own up constantly by turning in your chair to speak with Roan's hairdresser about what it is their doing. 

When you're finished, you're not shy about standing watch. The hairdresser is a sweetheart, fawning over Roan's pleased face as she rubs shampoo into her scalp over the sink. "Hey, Ro," you greet, "you look like you're enjoying yourself." 

"Hi, mom." 

"She's as good as gold," the hairdresser praises, "she's so polite." 

Roan shies away at the praise, worse when you agree. "She's my greatest love," you confess, "that's why I'm spoiling her today, because she deserves it for being so good all the time." 

Roan absolutely still tantrums. She misbehaves as every kid does, she hates vegetables, she makes those silly potions in the bathroom and she breaks things on purpose. But she's still a great kid. She deserves more than a special day. You'd treat her to this stuff all the time if you could. 

When Roan's hair has been dried and moussed with a diffuser, you pay your (unfortunately large) debts and compliment her all the way to the cafe. 

"Sweetheart, you look so beautiful, I wish I could show your dad right now, your curls haven't looked this bouncy and shiny in ages," you say, stroking a rogue one from her cheek. 

"I think you look beautiful, too," she says, almost walking into a woman coming from the cafe door. 

You pull her into your legs to avoid collisions and lead her through the door. "Thanks, baby," you say. If you were at home you'd grab her up, kiss her chubby cheeks, and maybe cry a little bit, but instead you take her to a nice table and buy her two different slices of over-expensive cake. One slice of triple chocolate fudge cake, and one slice of toffee cake with caramel buttercream. You tuck napkins into the collar of her nice dress and tie her hair back, fingertips sliding gently against her scalp as you pull it away from her face. She's extremely enthusiastic, spoon to her mouth before you've managed two loops of her scrunchie. 

"Eat up, princess," you say, stroking her shoulders clean of lint and stray hairs. "We have a super busy day still waiting for us." 

And the day is super, super long. It's night time by the time you and Roan get home via Hawkins lone taxi cab. Poor Eddie's literally waiting on the porch swing. 

"Holy crap, girls, I thought you were gonna call me," he says, rushing down the path to help with your shopping bags. 

"Dad, you're not supposed to see how much money mom spended," Roan declares, running around him on the path with a couple of bags in her clutches. "Don't worry, I'll hide them!" 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, waiting until you've thanked the driver and started up the path before asking, "I'm not supposed to see how much money you spent?" 

"That's a joke," you say. "You know, it happens on TV. I thought it was part of the mommy-daughter experience." 

"Oh, gotcha." He sidles in close to you as you take the few steps up to your door, not-so-subtly taking the shopping bags out of your left hand. "You look fucking beautiful, in case you don't know. Your hair is so pretty." 

"They barely did anything to my hair." You're not disparaging your stylist, she did exactly as you asked. It looks the same as always, but freshened up. 

"And yet." 

You step into the house and shut the door behind you. Eddie places your bags off to the side and turns to you for a hug rather than a kiss. He's maddeningly sweet like that. He hugs you so tightly that your back crunches. 

"Missed you… Thank you for taking her out today. I love how much you love her," he says against your cheek, punctuating with a quick kiss. "I thought you'd be home hours ago." 

"How was Wayne?" you ask through laughter. 

"Healthy enough to put me to work." 

You cup his cheek. "And how are you?" 

"Tired. Please tell me you bought me a present." 

"We bought you lots of presents," you say. "You might want to sit down." 

Eddie grins like a kid at Christmas, sweeping the bags into one arm and all but yanking your wrist from its socket as he pulls you to the living room with the other. You laugh as the two of you collapse into the couch, Eddie shouting, "Roan, come back, sweetheart! You don't have to hide anything you've got, just let me see your hair!" He rubs your arm. "She went off so fast I didn't see it. Have they scalped my girl?" 

Roan tramples back down the stairs like a stampede all by herself. She races around the couch and onto the armrest on Eddie's side, a struggle but one she manages with enthusiasm. 

"Okay, daddy, lookit. Mom told them to give me the sparkles and stuff," —she holds up her hands to showcase her painted nails— "aren't they the prettiest ever? Ever ever?" 

Her nails are small, and every inch has been decorated. Black polish at her own insistence encrusted with pink-white gems that sparkle when she wiggles them. Eddie likes her nails, but he loves her hair, combing her hair with two gentle hands at once. "Aw, sweetheart," he murmurs, "you look so pretty, they've given you your curls back." He looks at you. "How did they do that? I swear her curls don't bounce up like that even when I try my hardest anymore." 

You lift a bag into his lap. "I got some stuff on the hairdresser's recommendation. We can do it at home." 

He holds her little face carefully. "It's like when she was a baby." 

"Dad," Roan says severely, pulling his hands from her face, "we don't have time for crying. You haven't seen my new dresses." 

He pulls himself together with the help of your comforting hand on his thigh. "I'm not crying, you just look so pretty, Roro. And forget dresses, I want presents." 

"Y/N took me to Masy Daisy." 

Eddie looks at you out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe I don't want to know how much you spent after all." 

"It wasn't so bad, handsome," you say warmly, dropping your cheek into his shoulder. "They really were beautiful. Every one she tried on…" 

"How many did she try on?" he asks, like he’s scared of the answer.

"Just a couple… with matching shoes. And cardigans.”

Eddie sighs and leans back. “Best get the fashion show started, Roanie. Sounds like we’re gonna be here a while.”

[bahrtofane]

prompt 9 trope 3 w clingy trent please

- "Stay, please?" - Fake Relationship

Word count - 1.1k+

Watch it - reader loses mind bc trent is sweet and nice what's new 

Trent but youre whole relationship is based on a lie you can't fall back on now. 

Lets paint the picture, yeah?

Mutual friend's wedding, dear old Sammy is getting married. The both of you have been invited. You haven seen Trent in a minute so you both figure you might as well go together. Cut down on carbon emissions and what not. Besides you didn't want to deal with driving in your heels and Trent wanted the company. Sweet and simple.

He picks you up right on time (he looks lovely in a suit), the ride there is filled with catching up and teasing words before you slip into a comfortable silence. He holds the door for you when you get there, and walk in looking more like a couple than the damn married couple. You do your rounds, greeting your friends when you get there before heading off to your assigned seats next to each other. You enjoy the light snacks before heading off to mingle, saying your congrats to the bride and groom. 

Your friend's grandmother comes over smiling at both of you, calling you such a cute couple. She says the next wedding better be yours. She looks so happy, hands over her heart and reminiscing about her late husband and how much you and Trent remind her of her youth.

And what are you supposed to do to crush a little old woman's dream? No. 

Instead Trent wraps an arm around your waist, bringing you close and telling her she'd be the first to get invited. 

Little did you know that everyone and their mother was watching the no more than minute long interaction go down and here you are. You can't tell your friend you lied to her grandma on her wedding day what a horrid person you are. 

Instead you and Trent agree to go along with it, fake it for a bit and then announce a mutual break up. 

Easy peasy right? Wrong !! If only you didn't have heart eyes with him to begin with. What a cruel fate you've been served. 

Each and every time he smiles and pecks your cheek in front of friends you want to scream and tell him to just date for real already. But no you can't, you won't, dont. Whatever. 

You have to live off of the quick kisses that never meet your lips and the touches that he never truly means. He's an absolute menace when it comes to physical touch. Unable to keep his hands off of you. Even when you're out of sight. He still clings to you. Hands in the back of your jeans, in the buckles and loops of your pants pulling you closer. Whenever he finds himself at your home he's always so reluctant to leave. Staying over probably many more times than needed. And it only makes your head spin.

You're doomed. Completely and utterly doomed. 

Today you're sitting at a dinner with the same group of friends at the back of a fancy restaurant while you fight your floor-length gown from riding up in your seat. Trent sits next to you. Of course he does. 

You got here together yet again. It's to make things easier to say in the back of your mind. Yeah. Not because you've gotten used to him driving you about. 

The conversations around you eventually dull to nothing more but lingering comments as plates of food finish and checks come around. 

Not a bad night you suppose.

Sammy pipes up as everyone is gathering their things, “so when's the wedding?” eyebrows wiggling. 

You wave her off, “oh I don't know we haven't really talked about that yet.”

Trent gives a nod, tucking his dress shirt neatly into the waistband of his pants,”I've been too busy with everything.”

People give sympathetic nods and you quickly shove your purse back into your bag. You say goodbye to everyone and slip an arm into Trents as you walk back to the garage. He's still a gentleman even out of sight. Holding your dress up for you as you make your way up curbs. 

“Can't believe they're asking for a wedding.” you huff. 

Trent shrugs, “could be worse.” pulling you closer against him.

You sigh,"I suppose so.”

“You look pretty.” he smiles, leading the way back to his car

“Thank you,” you turn your head away from him. Afraid he’ll catch on to just how much his words fluster you.

You reach his car soon enough, arm slipping from his grasp as he leans to open the door. You slip inside without much of a fuss. Neither of you speak for a moment when you're both buckled up. 

He sighs, putting his car into drive and heading out of the garage. Almost fighting with the ticket (it refuses to scan) and zooming out before he pops a blood vessel.

He hands you his phone and you put in your address while watching the city streets bleed by into the night. It feels good out, so you lower your window all the way down, sticking a hand out.

He smiles, mimicking you and humming softly under his breath.

“Oh shit.” you exclaim.

“What?”

“I think I left my jacket at your place. I can stop by tomorrow to get it ?”

“Nah, we’ll just stop by. Add it as a stop.”

“You sure ?” you bite your lip. Afraid of overstepping. 

“I'm sure,” he nods. 

You do so. And before you know it both of you step out onto his driveway and duck inside. You forget just how expansive the place is. Jeez.

You find the jacket tossed on his couch and you tuck it into your arm. 

“I'll see you then?” you try, voice soft. Will there be a next time 

"Stay, please," Trent's voice interrupts the heavy silence, his eyes pleading with you as if begging for a moment's respite from the chaos swirling around you.

You turn to him, feeling the weight of his words pressing against your chest. "I can't," you murmur, voice thick. "Not like this."

His expression falls, picking at his nails as you try not to feel like a bitch. 

“Then, stay but not like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean like-fuck,” he scratches the back of his neck, “i dont wanna just keep pretending anymore.”

You blink. “Trent I'm not following.”

“You're so dense I want to date you and you date me for realI.” he raises his hands in exasperation. 

You blink again, hard. Unable to process anything. 

“Please say something-'' you shut him up with a swift kiss. Pawing against his dress shirt and pressing him against you. 

“Is that a good answer?” you look away, toying with the buttons around his collar. 

“Yup!” he chirps, “perfect so perfect so amazing.” melting into your touch and chasing for your lips. 

Maybe that wedding will happen after all. 

[acapelladitty]

could i request m!reader teaching maximus how to pleasure himself or even teaching him to to pleasure lucy? a first time between them. it doesn’t have to be strictly soft and sweet either. perhaps some teasing, premature ejaculation on maximus’ part. thank you for your time 😊💚

lessons in lust

Pairing: Maximus/M!Reader

Summary: Sick of being so inexperienced around sex, Maximus asks for help and you offer to show him the ropes (pun intended).

Fic Masterlist

In the week since Maximus had strolled into the bathroom you were hiding out in to enjoy a little private time, you had found his eyes burning into the back of your skull on multiple occasions - his face holding back a question he was desperate to ask.

Eventually you had given in.

What?

His answer had surprised you as much as it excited you.

Can you show me how you did that?

And so you found yourself sharing a cot with him, both sitting on opposite ends as something electric and unknown hung in the air.

In nothing but off-white underwear and an even dingier vest, the cloth more grey than anything, Maximus' face was oddly intense - the same intensity it no doubt held when the Brotherhood had him sit through their many lessons - and it was oddly endearing.

"Relax, Max." Sweeping your hands in front of you in a calming gesture, you hold his eye as you gently cup your cock through the fabric of your underwear. "Now, just watch and I'll talk you through what to do."

Pulling yourself free without shame, the way that Maximus' eyes widen fractionally as he takes in your brazen arousal sends a voyeuristic thrill down your spine. Cock in hand, you trail your fingers along your shaft as you tease the skin. Heat creeps across your neck with every stroke and you inhale deeply as you tilt closer to Maximus' position so he can see you as freely as possible.

"Some guys like a strong grip and some like it to be a bit softer. What matters is the friction and how good it feels as your hand glides across the skin."

"Uh huh." Swallowing, Maximus shifts uncomfortably and your eyes flick to the tent in his underwear which he seems determined to hide. "And what about the-" He gestures lower with his fingers, indicating your balls as they hang within their sac.

"Oh, the balls. Well, uh, it feels nice to play with them as you jerk off but they can be sensitive if you get a bit too rough."

"Okay. So not too hard."

Adding that to his mental list, Maximus leaned in closer as he ran a hand across his forehead - the fingers coming away damp with sweat.

"What about women? How do they-" Maximum lets the question trail off, his gaze slightly clouded by some distant thought. He had someone in mind, obviously, but the question catches you off-guard regardless, not expecting him to ask such a thing.

"Women have their own nice spots," you explain patiently as your hand continues to stroke along your cock with a practised ease, "and there's one near the top of their sex parts that feels even better than this apparently."

News to Maximus, his attention split between your cock and your face, he nodded sagely as though understanding what you were saying.

"So, if I find it then I pull it like that? Like you're doing?"

"Oh hell, no. Don't do that." Thinking of the few women you'd been with, you wince on their behalf as you continue to stroke along your cock. "It's too small anyway so you're supposed to touch it more gently."

"Oh, okay."

"Yeah. All right, now I need you to pull yourself out for me." Feeling your balls tighten and your legs tense, you can sense your release approaching and you let go of your cock to stave it off for the moment and draw out the pleasure. "I can already see that you're feeling excited to show off."

Maximus does as told, a shy glance all he offers before his hands dip beneath the band of his underwear to release himself - his cock visibly straining and tenting against the fabric.

Pulling his cock free, the sight of him makes your own length twitch in hand. Different to your own, his cock is slightly larger in both length and girth and a stunning deep colour which looks both velvety and soft as it stands to attention. The tip of his cock is visibly wet, pre-cum leaking from his slit as the excitement of a free show and the pleasure to come has him ready to go.

Your own cock slick with pre-cum you match his movements as he strokes his hand along his cock, mutually masturbating while allowing him to set the pace.

Maximus pauses as his hand rolls over the engorged head of his cock, his spine stiffening as the sensitive nerves there overwhelm him for a moment. He seems to like it though as his lips form into a slight 'o' shape and he repeats the feat, his teeth coming into play as they bite at his bottom lip.

Having no concept of moderation, Maximus chases his pleasure with abandon - his hand moving quickly and messily across his length as he used the pre-cum as a makeshift lube for his hand. It's a show which makes your lose focus on yourself, your attention gripped by how easily he wears his pleasure on his handsome features.

Before too long, his sexual inexperience showing in how quickly he reaches his peak, Maximus' breathy grunts dissolve into a sharp moan and he comes all over himself; his release arcing in thin ropes across his hand and cock as he gazes down at himself with open interest. His brow is furrowed and you smile at how tense his features seem until the satisfaction of his release smooths him out.

"And it explodes every time?" Maximus asks shakily.

"Every time." Painfully hard now and aching for your own release, you continue to edge yourself as you answer his honest questions. "It's salty too. You can taste it, it won't do anything bad."

Experimentally, Maximus brings his fingers to his lips and tastes his own release with a heated expression, one laced with curiosity. It's a flavour which he reviews with a shrug.

"It's," he pauses, "different."

Suddenly struck by just how weird and intense and so fucking hot this whole scenario is, you match his dopey grin with one of your own as you roll your thumb across your cockhead and settle into your own arousal.

"Yeah. It's definitely different."

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Dancing In The Dark

requested?: no pairing(s): nishimura riki x gn!reader genre: fluff, non idol au warning(s): reader is said to be wearing a dress though gender is not specified, riki being a goddamn frickin gentleman, age gap (not hugely mentioned) summary: 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 word count: 809 a/n: oart 2 anyone? here is the second drabble, make sure to eat and drink something, love yas, mwah! part two is HERE

you and riki were both at a party that was a really big hit. both of your father’s were celebrating a very big milestone in the company they ran together. since your father’s worked in the same workplace, you and riki had always been the best of friends, always there for eachother when you needed to be, literally attached at the hip.

though riki was a couple years older than you, you both never had a problem getting along, besides, riki was around the only boy who had seen you cry. when your first ex broke up with you, he was there holding your hand. nothing ever changed how you both felt about eachother.

although, you always had a crush on riki, and it was weird, because he always chose girls that looked nothing like you to date.

but here the both of you were, standing in the far corner of the party, judging every person that walked by with drinks in hand. riki was wearing a very smart suit, while you were wearing a very light pink floor length dress with spaghetti straps that you had to tie at the back, which also had a slit running up the right leg, stopping about mid-thigh. you looked stunning with your make up done flawlessly and your hair done up in a nice messy bun with curled pieces falling out of it. your light pink sparkly heels also complimented your look with a perfect finish.

you had caught tons of boys staring at you during the night, to which they asked to dance, but you politely declined, saying you were feeling tired.

in reality, the heels had started hurting your feet around an hour ago, but you tried your hardest to ignore it. plus, you didn’t want to leave riki since no girls had decided to come up to him tonight and ask him to dance.

a little while later, you felt it was beginning to get stuffy in the hall everyone was cramped in, so you stepped out into the hallway, letting riki know you were going outside to take a breather. he nodded and you slipped out, making sure nobody saw so you wouldn’t get strung into another terrible conversation with an old man about how he used to work in a wine making factory and get bored out of your mind.

you sat in the courtyard of your manor, sitting on the stone fountain in the dead center. not long later of you looking out at the wonderful landscape of the lake and mountains in the surrounding area, you heard footsteps behind you.

“beautiful night” you turn around as you hear the familiar voice of riki.

“it is” you smile.

you spend the next few moments in silence, until you hear the muffled, but still audible beat of a song. your song. the song you and riki would dance to together whenever it came on the radio when you were kids, the song that was playing softly when riki was holding you because you had already had your first heartbreak. the song you and riki would spend hours on end listening to together if you could.

riki stands up in front of you, holding out one of his hands and bowing down slightly.

“may i have this dance?” he asks softly a smile plastered on his face.

“you may” you say, ignoring the pain shooting through your feet as you stood back up after being down for so long.

you took riki’s hand, and you both instantly started dancing, laughing and giggling as riki spun you and brought you back into his chest. you both laughed at your failed attempt to spin riki, which only failed because of how tall he is.

when the two of you were nearing the end of the song, you both broke out into a slow dance, riki’s hand on your waist and the other holding your hand. your free hand was resting on riki’s shoulder. you were both gazing into eachother’s eyes with nothing but pure adoration in your eyes.

you never noticed how close your faces were until you felt riki’s breath fanning across your face.

“what’re you doing?” you say, your breath hitching as riki’s face grew nearer to yours with each passing second.

“something i should have done years ago” he mutters.

you were filled with shock when riki’s lips pressed against yours. you stood in shock for a few seconds before you began to respond to the kiss, closing your eyes and melting into him. your lips moved against his in perfect harmony, your hand that was resting on riki’s shoulder travelling to the back of his head, your other hand travelling to his shoulder. riki’s hands moved down to circle your waist, holding you tight against you as if he didn’t want to let you go.

[hannieer]

Cock Warming (Gojo satoru × Female reader)

Starring Gojo Satoru × Reader

Summery: Asking your husband Satoru if you can sit on his cock while he is working. (For the first time)

You're husband was working in home in his office peacefully until you came and said something making him widen his eyes.

"Can you say it again? Darling" Satoru says making sure if he heard it right.

"Can i sit on your cock while you work?" You say being a little shy and nervous looking at him with pleading eyes.

How could he say no to those pretty eyes of his wife? Also when he is already twitching at her words.

"You know i can't say no to you since you asked me so nicely"

Satoru says with a warm smile while gesturing her to come closer to him. You move closer to him and after when you reach in front him you take off your panties and then his pant along with his boxers revealing his hard cock whice was already leaking with precum.

On the other hand Satoru loved it, loved seeing your reaction, lustful yet scared if he will fit in or not but everytime you take it well, you take him so well.

After that you sit on his lap facing toward him and slowly taking his length inch by inch. He wasn't thick but he was damn long. Satoru loved seeing you whimpering while adjusting his length slowly. He puts his hand around your waist helping you to adjust his length until you fully take him inside, A moan escapes from both of you.

"You take me so well honey~"Satoru praises you.

Few moments passes as you cockwarm him. Satoru continue to work as you cling on him. Sometimes satoru would move to take any stuff you would gasp and leave a moan at his sudden moving. He loved that unexpected reaction from you while you were cockwarming him.

"Oh, sorry honey didn't mean to scare ya"

He would apologize instantly only to make that same mistake again intentionally making you cleanch around him and leave soft moans.

"Satoru~ don't move"You say with a frown but he is goddamn Gojo Satoru. He won't listen and keep doing that making you moan and whimper.

"Sorry just hold on a little baby" He would say teasingly.

You both would stay like this for a while until he can't hold back himself and ended up fucking his pretty wife hardly for being a good girl.

If you ask me how he would start this, i bet he will say this

"Pretty good girl deserves more than cockwarming you know? Now let me take care of you and reward you for staying still and being a good girl"

Then get ready to spend a pleasuring night with your husband.

[engie-ivy]

(Upon popular request (really, thank you so much for the amazing response!), a second part to Your New Family! Where Sirius finds out who that stranger in the restroom actually was😁)

Part 1: Your New Family

Pouring his heart out in the loo might not have been Sirius’ best moment, but at least that kind stranger managed to somewhat reduce his anxiety about meeting Remus' parents. Until he sees Remus' father, that is.

Your New Son

As Sirius approaches their table, he sees Remus is not alone. An elderly woman has joined him. She has a round face framed with dark blond curls interspersed with streaks of grey, and big, honey-coloured eyes. Remus’ eyes.

Remus’ mum.

She must’ve gotten here early. Shite. Shite. And Sirius was at the loo the entire time! No doubt she already thinks he’s totally weird, dammit.

Sirius rushes towards them. “I’m so sorry I kept you waiting!”

“Oh my goodness,” Remus’ mum says as she turns around. “Could this be your Sirius?” She gets to her feet and takes Sirius’ hands in hers, but holds him at arm’s length so she can study him properly. “Look at you! Aren’t you a properly handsome young man! Remus has been going on about it, of course. ‘Mum, he’s so lovely. Mum, his hair is so pretty. Mum, his eyes are so nice.’ I assumed he was just smitten,” she turns back to Remus and smiles brightly at him. “But you really got yourself quite a looker, didn’t you, Remus?”

Remus beams at them proudly. “I sure did!”

Sirius, a little overwhelmed, wants to give a compliment in return. He’s aiming for something along the lines of ‘I always found Remus’ eyes beautiful, and now I can see who he gets it from’, he really is, but what comes out is “I like Remus’ eyes on you” which is just so weird.

Unfortunately, his remedying attempt does not quite make it better. “I mean, not Remus’ eyes. They were yours first! But you gave them to Remus. Not your actually eyes, of course. You still have eyes, after all.”

Remus’ mum looks puzzled, as she slowly says “...yes. I do have eyes.”

It’s only then that Sirius realizes Remus’ father isn’t there. Immediately, the worst-case-scenarios cross his mind. Remus’ dad has already decided he hates Sirius and doesn’t even want to meet him. Remus’ dad has looked up Sirius’ family and now wants nothing to do with him. Remus’ dad is not okay with Remus being in a same-sex relationship (which is absolutely ridiculous, since Remus has been out since he was fifteen, and his parents have been nothing but loving and supportive, but in Sirius’ anxiety-riddled state, even Remus’ dad changing his entire belief system overnight seems completely possible).

It is at that moment Remus’ mum says “You must excuse my husband. He just had to go to the restroom.”

Sirius lets out a sigh of relief. Right, the restroom.

The restroom...

Wait.

The restroom.

Oh. Oh.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

“Ah, there he is!” Remus’ mum says, and as Sirius turns around he feels dread settle in his stomach.

And indeed. The man approaching them is the very same man Sirius just trauma-dumped all over in the restroom. The man has a smirk on his face. The exact same smirk Remus has when he thought of a particular wicked prank. Oh yes, he definitely knew all along.

“I’d already reckoned you’re Sirius!” The man says, reaching out a hand. “It’s about time we were probably introduced! I’m Lyall Lupin, Remus’ father.”

All colour must’ve drained from Sirius’ face as he shakes Mr Lupin’s hand. “I... You... I was... And you were... I didn’t... Oh my god. I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I...”

“Sirius,” Remus says in a levelled tone. “What did you do?” The exact same tone he uses when Sirius and James call him in the middle of the night to come pick them up somewhere.

“Nothing bad, nothing bad!” Remus’ dad quickly says, laughing while holding up his hands. “He just told me how anxious he was to be meeting his boyfriend’s parents for the first time. But only because he loves the boy so much!”

Remus lets out a small gasp before turning to Sirius with wide eyes. Eyes that Sirius is purposely not meeting, looking everywhere but at Remus.

“Oh,” Remus’ dad says, looking from Remus to Sirius and back to Remus. “You two haven’t...”

“Sirius!” Remus exclaims, smacking his arm. “I can’t believe the first time you say that you love me it’s to my bloody father!”

“Well, I did not know that!” Sirius says defensively. “I thought it was to a stranger in the loo!”

“That does not make it better!”

As the boys bicker, Hope wraps her arms around Lyall’s upper arm and rests her head against him. “So,” she says softly. “We approve?”

“His feelings for Remus are very sincere,” Lyall replies. “And I honestly think he’ll do anything for him.”

Hope lets out a content sigh as she looks at the couple. “I’m glad.”

“He seems kind and genuine,” Lyall adds. “And also, we’re going to have to adopt him as our second son.”

Hope lifts her head to look at her husband with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve already decided that?”

“He never had a real family,” Lyall says. “He claims he wants us to like him purely for Remus’ sake, but there’s more to it than that. I don’t think he’s ready to admit it, maybe doesn’t even realise it, but he’s craving it for himself as well. A family, a home.”

“Well, then he has chosen the right in-laws,” Hope says, accepting Lyall’s judgement without question as she lays her head back against his arm.

Then she chuckles. “My, my. That was some toilet break, huh?”

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter fourteen — a rom-com happy ending

WORD COUNT — 2,841

WARNINGS — pure fluff, weddings

NOTES — i can't believe it's already over :( well, not really bc this series will always live in my head, way into their college years, but for now this is the end <3

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Ever since your Uncle Mark started staying in the guest room and wedding prep picked up even more, your house was never quiet. Between final food tastings, organizing the tables and stationary, plus the horrendous amount of extra schoolwork you were dealing with due to a new semester starting up, life never slowed down. 

Things at school got better, so long as you ignored Newt in any way, and focused on your college applications and spending time with Brenda. Plus, your uncle Mark made sure to spend all his extra time with you, since you hadn’t seen him in two years. 

He and Maggie’s brothers got along well, and made the house extra vibrant as everyone got to know one another over game nights and dinners. The very first night you’d met them — Maggie’s brothers, George and Dean — they embraced you lovingly, claiming that Maggie had always wanted a daughter. 

Valentine’s Day started with a bright dawn and a calm air, and you could tell even with the cold that it was a beautiful day for a wedding. The day started early, at around 5am, with Maggie shaking you awake, offering you a toasted waffle and travel mug of coffee. The house was void of men and instead filled with the women of the bridal party, all running around and getting ready in different parts of the house in order to have things done on time. 

Everyone had their dresses in different places, and you and a woman named Sarah did each other’s makeup in your bedroom by the desk before taking turns getting dressed and finding your purses, accessories, and proper coats. 

Maggie was already on her way to the church in just her makeup by the time everyone was ready, leaving you to lock up the house and pile into one of the three cars occupying the driveway. You texted with Brenda, Harriet, and Sonya on the car ride, talking about the reception happening later on. 

You and Thomas were allowed to bring your friends to the reception (with Brenda and Jorge being the exception, as they were invited to the ceremony), something that your parents agreed upon not long after they told you about the proposal. Since the bonfire, though, the group was shattered, and you really only talked to the girls for now. Thomas was inviting everyone else who wanted to come, though, so you’d see everyone there, anyway. 

One thing you did notice, through the bustle and stress of the wedding and finals, was that your friends had been acting odd, to say the least. Thomas was the same, but every one of your friends were exchanging an unsettling amount of smiles and glances — not just the girls, but Gally and Minho, too. You’d even asked them about it one day, but they all refused to give you an answer. 

You shook the thoughts from your head and texted the girls to update them on where you were. They were all excited for the wedding, and you were, too. Everything about this day had felt spectacular so far, and you couldn’t wait to actually see Maggie and your dad get married. 

The church was empty for now, but you and the girls all filed into the bridal suite, where Maggie sat, pinning up her hair into the most elegant style you’d seen. Since her hair was neck length and wavy, it was difficult to get her hair into a style that looked nice. However, she managed to take some strands from the front to frame her face, while still having the majority of the upper half of her hair pinned back with pearl beaded pins, her waves still flowing free. 

You almost cried at how wonderful she looked, before realizing it was up to you and two other bridesmaids to help her into her dress. 

If you hadn’t been emotional before, you definitely were now. 

Maggie looked like she’d stepped right out of a fairytale. Her bodice and sleeves were mesh, patterned with intricate lace, her skirt made of silk with a slight volume to it and lots of movement. The lace pattern bled into the skirt, blending well with the silk and forming it into a cohesive piece. 

Everyone’s compliments overlapped as you took her hands in yours, the both of you smiling widely at one another. 

With a gentle squeeze of your hands, and a knock on the door from her brothers, ready to walk her down the aisle, Maggie sighed. “Well, ladies, I think it’s just about time I got married, don’t you think?”

The ceremony was, to say the least, perfect. 

Out of the entire bridal party, you were the last to walk down the aisle, with Chuck and Thomas on either arm, all three of you beaming like sunshine. 

Your dad, along with everyone in the church, welled with tears upon Maggie’s entrance, both  of her brothers on her arm. Everything went without a hitch, and you must have ran through a pack or two of pocket kleenex. You’d never be able to replicate the joy in your heart when your dad finally called Maggie his wife. 

To no one’s surprise, the reception started strong and continued to stay that way. The hall looked absolutely amazing, with round tables and white wicker chairs, beautiful flower centerpieces. In the few-hour long break between the ceremony and the reception, Sonya, Harriet, and Brenda’s attitudes have kicked up in suspicion, but all things considered, you simply brushed it off. You had a lot more to worry about today than their behavior, and one of those things was your speech. 

All of your friends sat at a table near the front, watching your uncle wrap up his speech. Thomas and Chuck were going to do one as the best men, but didn’t quite know what to say, so they passed that duty onto Mark. One of Maggie’s friends offered to do the same for you, but you had already started with an idea, and this was too important to pass off. 

With shaking hands and messily written index cards, you stepped up to the microphone next to your parents table, smiling at the people around you. You kept your eyes on Maggie and your dad, though, for the most part. 

Clearing your throat, you leaned into the mic and began your speech. “I know that there’s a lot of people here who might not exactly know who I am, but I’m very glad to be here to share this day with all of you. I’m the daughter of the groom, and my name is Y/n. I want to start by congratulating my dad and Maggie, who I can say, deep in my heart, I know were meant to be together. Sure, it took them a while, but I guess finding ‘The One’ takes time, right?” You took a deep breath, adjusting the cards in your hands, finding that you didn’t need them any more. “I’ve only known Maggie for about four years, but she’s one of the greatest people I’ve ever met. I’ll forever be grateful for all of the things she’s helped me and my dad through, and for always being there. Maggie, you and your boys have changed everything in our lives, and there won’t be a day that I won’t be thankful for that. You showed my dad how to love again, and you didn’t hesitate for a second to share that love with me, too.” 

You were only looking at Maggie, now, eyes wet with tears and a smile stretching your face. “And it’s because of that love and dedication that I am proud to be here today, with all our friends and family, and be able to call you my mom.” 

You watched the emotions change on your parents faces and laughed lightly. “I can only finish this off by saying that I hope that everything the both of you want out of life comes to you, and to tell you that I love you both to the moon and back.” 

Quietly, you stepped away from the microphone and walked over to an already standing Maggie, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“I love you so much, honey,” she whispered, kissing the side of your head. 

You squeezed her tight, tucking your face into her neck. “I love you, too, mom.”

After you let go and sat down, you glanced over at your dad to find him trying his best to hide his tears. He hadn’t been doing so well, considering you could see the shine of tears building on his waterline. 

Dinner and cake came after the speeches finished, both of which were delicious — you made a mental note to personally tell Jorge how good the cake was — and made you heavily consider taking seconds, despite knowing you would pay for it later with a stomach ache. 

Soon enough, the dance floor filled with people, and you searched out your friends to spend more time with them. 

You found them easily, the seven of them clumped into one corner of the room, just by the hall’s main entrance. They greeted you warmly, talking over one another about the food and the speeches. You told them everything about your day so far, and how proud and elated you were that the wedding finally happened. It was only when you were getting into how hectic things had been at the house that Gally’s phone rang, and suddenly the whole group went quiet. 

He stepped away, answering the phone and nodding like the person on the other line could see him. Everyone was looking at him, cheeky smiles on their faces as Gally came back, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. 

“What was that all about?” You asked him. 

Gally smiled at you, something he didn’t do all that often, a playful gleam in his eye. “Wanna go for a drive?”

“Why?” Your brows cinched as you dragged out your question, glancing between everyone as a slight chill ran up your spine. 

“He’s got a surprise for you, that’s why.” Brenda nudged you. “Just go, I promise it’ll be worth it.” 

You looked between everyone wearily before following Gally out to his car, not bothering to grab your coat. Your heart was racing with every step, the anticipation and confusion building in your head. Brenda said it was worth the trip, but you just didn’t know what was going on. Not to mention everyone’s odd behavior…

After driving around for a few minutes, Gally pulled into the school parking lot. A light flurry of snow had begun to fall, dusting the grass and pavement, and slightly impairing your vision as you looked around from the passenger’s seat. “Gally, why are we at the school?”

The boy looked up from his phone with a smirk. “You’ll see.”

Not a moment after he finished his sentence, your phone pinged from your dress pocket. Your heart stopped when you pulled it out, reading the new message in your notifications. ‘Come to the willow tree’

It was from Newt.

You looked up at Gally, who’s smile widened as he nodded toward the field. 

“He’s waiting for you,” Gally said, and you had to remember how to breathe. 

With one final, reassuring nod, you exited the car, bracing against the cold as you raced to the willow tree. Through the flurries, you made out Newt’s figure by the tree, and stopped yourself from running any further. 

Once you were able to move your legs again, you took it slower, walking through the thin layer of accumulating snow, picking up your dress to make it less likely for you to trip. With every step, you could make out Newt’s figure a little clearly, and it made the ache in your chest grow larger. 

You came to a stop under the tree’s canopy of dead leaves, providing some protection from the snow. Newt was wearing a black suit, and you couldn’t deny how great he looked in it. He was still staring at his shoes and picking at his fingernail when you stopped walking, almost as though he hadn’t heard you approaching him. 

Gripping the sides of your dress, you found the courage to speak up. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again.” 

Newt looked up from his shoes with a smile. “I lied.” 

“But that’s what you said, isn’t it? On Christmas. When you slammed the door in my face.” 

“I know what I said, and I’m sorry,” Newt sighed, stepping a bit closer. “I was a prick for saying it, too. I never should’ve done what I did, you didn’t deserve it.” He took a breath, running a hand through his hair and tucking a hand into one of his pockets. “Ever since the party, Sonya’s been telling me every day how upset you were. Hell, everyone was, and it’s been driving me mad ever since, because I hurt you, and I’ve never wanted to do that.” 

Teary-eyed, you opened your mouth to speak, but Newt continued. 

“I don’t care what Tommy thinks about us being together anymore. But I want us to be together. Hell, the only thing that kept me quiet about how I felt for so long — that stopped me from asking you out when we hung out together on our own for the first time — was how I thought he would react, or if he would disapprove of it. But I don’t care anymore. I love you, Y/n. More than anything. Staying away from you for so long has been killing me, and I can’t stand it anymore.” He stepped closer again, leaving only a few inches of space between you. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to follow you outside when you came to Mickey’s with Brenda. To apologize for what I said, for leaving you that night. To—” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “—to kiss you bloody senseless.” 

You stared up at the boy before you, the one you never thought would talk to you again, in awe of his words. After the bonfire, you never believed that Newt would say something like that to you, let alone plan something as intimate as this was. You blinked away tears for the fourth time that day and realized there was only one thing you could say at the moment. 

“So do it. Kiss me.” 

Newt closed the distance between your bodies, pulling you into him by the waist and pressing his lips to yours. Elation filled every inch of your body as you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him as close as you were able, pouring all your love into the kiss. You felt one of Newt’s hands snake up your neck, palm splayed over your jaw as he tried in vain to pull you closer into his body. 

You wished you didn’t need air to breathe when you were forced to pull back, lipstick smeared on Newt’s swollen lips, and likely on your own, as well. But you still had one question to ask. 

“Why now?” You asked, smoothing the hairs on the nape of his neck. “I mean, after everything, why now? You spent two months pretending to hate me, so what changed?”

“The jacket.” Newt told you. “Sonya practically forced it into my hands after you left, and then she yelled at me for half an hour about how big of an idiot I was being, and how wrong it was for me to keep treating you the way I had been. After that… I sat on my bed for a while, holding the jacket and thinking about how right she was. About how much I missed you. After that, I knew I had to do something, so…” 

“So you planned all this?” You said, a coy smile spreading on your lips. “Just for me?”

Newt smiled wide, laughter bubbling in his throat. “Just for you, darling.” The nickname made your heart skip a beat, and your smile widened. “You shouldn’t be so surprised. You  saw what I did for you in New York. Making elaborate plans to see you happy isn’t anything new.”

Without another word, you pulled his head down to kiss him again. You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips as you kissed Newt, reveling in how amazing it felt to finally be able to kiss him. Just as you were pulling away, a thought crossed your mind. “Wait. What about Thomas? And our friends?”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?” Newt laughed. “I don’t give a damn what Tommy thinks. I only care about you. And our friends have been in on it for the past week, love.” 

You smiled bright at the boy holding you, pulling him back into another searing kiss. 

Under the canopy of the willow tree, on the greatest day of your life so far, you got your movie-screen happy ending; and everything that happened to get it was entirely worth it.

series taglist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine @yes-fangirl-things (open!)

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/734909452093931520/imagine-being-in-a-year-long-serious-relationship?source=share

"Look... If you come to him now, Santi will spare your little boytoy. That's how generous he's willing to be for you."

I don't think so, Noph'ae. Just so you know I mean business. If you dare lay a single claw on Obie, that includes making somebody else do it, you will never get a whiff of my scent ever again. You should go thank your god, he is the only reason I even tolerate your presence.

(Not the same anon btw, I'm just here to start war like the godless creature I am)

TW: Noncon.

The nice thing about knowing a demon's core name is that you effectively sort of bind them to obey you. If you can use it correctly, that is.

In this instance, Santi is smart enough to play along. You know his true identity and you've made it clear he can't personally act upon Obie. Thay's fine, those were the terms of his "addendum" in the first place.

So consider not being stupid and simply taking his offer.

Unfortunately, you're likely to think you've won when he merely disappears from sight and leaves you alone for a while. But you haven't.

He can't harm Obie, and he can't make others harm Obie either. But your charming sense of selflessness is where you've taken a major hit. Because nothing's stopping Santi from harming you.

And so, the first thing he does is bide his time, get you to be alone, then knock you the fuck out before you can say his core name and command him to stop.

You'll wake up somewhere private with the incubus, likely his personal room at The Clergy's Eye. Your hands are bound so that you cannot even try to spell his name in infernal or attempt to carve/scritch his sigil anywhere (if you do know it). Most importantly, your mouth is stuffed. With his cock.

Try to bite, he dares you, tightening the silk fashioned into a leash around your neck.

" I'm flattered my true mate already knows so much about me! I really couldn't ask for anymore more zealous. " He moans, watching you grow hazy from the natural effects of his fluids. " But the flaw of all humans is they think ever so highly of themselves when given a crumb of power over a demon. And it never works out, does it love? "

Your punishment is getting viciously throat fucked by the monster, air flow cut off frequently and mercilessly, until you're coughing drool back around his cock, sniffling, your chin caked in tears, saliva and precum while Santi intentionally draws it all out. Until you're crying from soreness and your jaw is popping, stomach flexing as you gag viscerally around his length and sob like a baby.

He could be so much nicer to you, if only you had let him...

Now he has to put his mark on you in a rush.

Has to incapacitate you in a rush.

Let him feel that amazing squirming tongue... After all, Santi might have to get rid of it.

[astrowaffles]

i only want to be with you

Teen audiences for language | banter, marriage pact | for @fengqingaction and juyangism on twt!

“Don’t get soppy with me now,” Mu Qing snapped.

“I’m not! I’m just saying, I remember 30 being some far-off mystical number…”

Mu Qing sighed and let his hands drop, turning to face Feng Xin. “Well, we lived for that day and not the next. Personally I never wanted to hit 30. Too many wrinkles.”

“Well that’s just a lie.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “You got me. You know everything, of course.”

“Uh-huh.” Feng Xin gave up on getting his hairpiece out. “30 was like a wonderland for you.”

“How so?”

“You don’t remember? We were gonna get married and everything.”

“What?!”

“Our pact? ‘If we’re still single by 30, we’ll just marry each other-‘”

“I remember, it was just never gonna happen-“

“I guess we’re over 30 now, and we’re still single-“

“I swear to heaven if you say what I think you’re about to say-“

“Why don’t we get married now?”

“……You said it.”

OR: a birthday, a marriage pact, and a wedding: what next for fengqing? falling in love????

Pei Ming’s 830th birthday dawned loud and annoying – at least, if you were anywhere near his palace. Unfortunately for all involved, Mu Qing was near his palace, and was nearly knocked off his feet by the scurrying attendants. Even worse, Pei Ming’s obnoxious ass had thought it was a good idea to start the day with a loud trumpet call; that one had almost caused the birthday boy death by Feng Xin, and it wasn’t often that Feng Xin killed people without any emotional investment.

How did Mu Qing know this?

They were getting ready together, naturally.

Of course, they’d all received invitations to Pei Ming’s banquet. His ninth 30th birthday party would be the greatest yet, apparently – Mu Qing dreaded to think what his tenth would be like – complete with far too much food and a hall far too overdecorated to look even slightly appealing. In order to look down on the décor, one has to be dressed better than it; hence, Mu Qing had been up for far longer than anyone else, trying to get his stubbornly straight and thick hair to sit nicely where he wanted it. He’d managed to bully Feng Xin into doing the same, insisting he wouldn’t allow Feng Xin to be an embarrassment if he could help it. Feng Xin, who liked bullying Pei Ming even if his own taste in décor was potentially even worse, grumpily went along with it.

Now, they were both stood in the first of Mu Qing’s immense dressing rooms; Mu Qing poked his hair around, aided by his full-length mirror, while Feng Xin complained about “having to carry all his clothes to the Xuan Zhen palace” and how “this is ridiculous, why is he even here”.

“Shut up,” said Mu Qing. “Your servants carried most of your things, anyway.”

“I don’t even want to be here,” Feng Xin complained. “I don’t give a fuck about upstaging Pei Ming’s banquet hall!”

“It’s not about upstaging, it’s about being superior,” Mu Qing corrected. “Don’t you want to make fun of the curtains? Remember last year’s horrors?”

“I kind of liked last year’s curtains,” Feng Xin admitted, and dodged the lethal hairpin Mu Qing flung at him.

“Get dressed,” Mu Qing told him. “You’re a disgrace to my palace.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come here! And I’m already dressed!”

“Get dressed for the banquet, you moron.”

“Excuse me? I’m a moron?”

“Yep.”

Feng Xin launched himself towards Mu Qing, who sidestepped. “Don’t, you’ll ruin my hair!”

“Like I give a fuck about your hair?!”

“Well you SHOULD, this has taken me FOUR HOURS-“

“Four hours for THAT? What have you spent the time doing, a crossword?”

“You have two seconds to leave the room or so help me-“

“What? You’re gonna hurt me? Oooh, I’m so scared~”

Mu Qing lobbed his wooden hairbrush at Feng Xin’s head. Feng Xin caught it and threw it back; it hit Mu Qing’s shoulder, falling to the floor with a clatter. Five of Mu Qing’s carefully placed hairpins went with it.

Mu Qing watched them fall in silence.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Feng Xin defended, backing towards the door. “It was supposed to hit your arm-“

“GET OUT.”

Feng Xin got out.

Eventually, after Mu Qing and Feng Xin had been tied into their banquet outfits and had gold decorations pinned slightly precariously into their hair and Mu Qing had approved Feng Xin’s jewellery and Feng Xin had obediently found Mu Qing’s other outer robe because he suddenly wanted to change, they still had to wait to make sure they wouldn’t be early. In the constant battle between Mu Qing’s hatred of being late and Feng Xin’s hatred of being the only person at the function, they’d agreed to set off once they’d seen the first guest enter Pei Ming’s palace.

This compromise had Mu Qing pacing nervously – yes, he didn’t like Pei Ming, no, that didn’t mean he wanted to be late – and Feng Xin standing ominously by the window so they didn’t miss the guests starting to arrive.

“See anyone yet?”

“I thought Shi Qingxuan was gonna go in, but she just turned around and left again.”

“Shi Qingxuan was here on time?!”

“No, because she left.”

“Yeah, but she turned up on time. That’s what I’m amazed at.”

“No, because she’s not on time, because she’s not at the banquet yet.”

“Yeah, but she was there and therefore she was ready.”

“For all we know, she’s ready on time every time and just doesn’t want to come.”

“I don’t blame her,” Mu Qing grumbled. “I’m only going so Pei Ming leaves me alone the rest of the year.”

“You know he’ll be at your banquet, too.”

“And yours. There’s no end to this shit.”

“There truly is no end to Pei Ming,” Feng Xin agreed. “Oh, someone’s just gone in. Who was that? I don’t recognise-“

“Alright, community cop,” Mu Qing sighed. “You don’t know everyone in heaven, there’s thousands of us. Let’s go.”

Feng Xin allowed Mu Qing to drag him away from watching partygoers arrive, content to follow his friend through the Xuan Zhen halls and out towards Pei Ming’s palace.

“Oh, gods, it really is as bad as we thought,” Mu Qing noted gleefully, handing both of their invites to the attendant at the door.

It was truly horrendous; gold, jewels, and heavy drapes covered the hall they were ushered into, tones clashing and guests tripping over the unnecessarily thick rugs. Attendants tried to offer around various nibbles and drinks, only to be caught up in long brocade curtains, ornate tapestries, or crowds of guests with ill-timed entrances.

“Anyone would think it was an imperial wedding,” Feng Xin muttered, stepping carefully over one of the jewel-encrusted cushions that had fallen from its seat onto the floor. “And I’ve been to a few of those.”

“Isn’t it horrible?” Mu Qing beamed. “Aren’t you glad you wore the robes I picked?”

“Very,” Feng Xin agreed. “I still think I could’ve worn my other hair piece, though.”

“No you couldn’t,” Mu Qing told him dismissively. “You look best like this, as I thought.”

“Oh, you think I look nice?” Feng Xin teased. “Maybe you think I look handsome~”

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

“That wasn’t a no-“

Mu Qing swiped drinks from a nearby attendant and shoved one into Feng Xin’s face. “I don’t want to punch you at a banquet, but I will if I have to.”

“No-one’s going to make you punch me,” Feng Xin argued, taking the drink and sipping it. He pulled a face. “This one’s yours.”

“Oh. Whoops.”

They swapped. More guests filtered in, slower this time as the attendants finally worked out how to stop them from crowding the parts of the hall where the serving staff needed to be. Mu Qing cackled over a few outfits, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Feng Xin; an over-eager junior official bounced in to introduce herself and nearly caused Feng Xin to pass out by grabbing his hand and shaking it enthusiastically. In the end, Mu Qing rescued him and swept him to the other side of the room where they could get lost in a crowd of men arguing over the merits of longbow vs crossbow, although – tragically – he wouldn’t let Feng Xin join in.

It was forty minutes before Pei Ming finally made his appearance, allowing the guests to take their seats along the long table. His outfit was suitably gaudy and made jingling sounds when he walked; Mu Qing hauled Feng Xin up the table by the wrist so they could sit close enough to the birthday boy that he’d hear any snide comments, if they were loud enough. Feng Xin rolled his eyes, kicked aside the uncomfortable-looking bejewelled cushion, and sat down. Mu Qing sat too and immediately began eyeing Pei Ming’s boots.

“Handmade,” he said approvingly, but then- “Red leather. Ew.”

Pei Ming raised his glass, waiting for the hall to fall silent.

“My 830th birthday,” he began – Feng Xin let out a quiet groan – “Is truly special to me. How many of us thought we wouldn’t reach 30, never mind eight-hundred-and? Certainly, on the battlefield, I was not always certain.”

There was a slight hum of approval; Mu Qing rolled his eyes.

“Dramatic ass,” he whispered to Feng Xin. “He was always gonna make it.”

“And so,” Pei Ming continued, “I would like to take this opportunity-“

“-To change your shoes?” Mu Qing suggested, just loud enough for Pei Ming to catch.

“-To wish you all long, happy ascensions, but most of all, to wish myself a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” He clinked his glass with his nearest subordinate; Feng Xin and Mu Qing clinked theirs together, drank, then turned to look at the food.

“This looks disgusting,” Feng Xin noted, helping himself.

Mu Qing snorted. “It’ll never be as bad as Pei Ming’s new hairstyle.”

“He had a point, you know,” Feng Xin mused, allowing Mu Qing to support his slow, wobbly steps.

“Who does?”

“Pei Ming.”

“This is why you shouldn’t drink,” Mu Qing told him. “Drunk people always say stupid things.”

“We can’t all be you, Mr Abstinence Cultivation.”

“I’m honestly surprised you can still pronounce that in your state.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, finally some eloquence!”

“Shut up!! Let me finish what I was saying!”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Mu Qing snarked, nodding to the attendant who opened the Xuan Zhen Palace doors for them.

“Like, we didn’t think we’d reach thirty.” Feng Xin reached up with fumbling hands and started pulling the hairpiece off his bun. Mu Qing left him in the corner of the dressing room and retreated to the mirror to delicately pull his hairpins from his ornate hair arrangement. “Hell, we didn’t even think we’d reach twenty-“

“Don’t get soppy with me now,” Mu Qing snapped.

“I’m not! I’m just saying, I remember 30 being some far-off mystical number…”

Mu Qing sighed and let his hands drop, turning to face Feng Xin. “Well, we lived for that day and not the next. Personally I never wanted to hit 30. Too many wrinkles.”

“Well that’s just a lie.”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “You got me. You know everything, of course.”

“Uh-huh.” Feng Xin gave up on getting his hairpiece out. “30 was like a wonderland for you.”

“How so?”

“You don’t remember? We were gonna get married and everything.”

“What?!”

“Our pact? ‘If we’re still single by 30, we’ll just marry each other-‘”

“I remember, it was just never gonna happen-“

“I guess we’re over 30 now, and we’re still single-“

“I swear to heaven if you say what I think you’re about to say-“

“Why don’t we get married now?”

“……You said it.”

“C’monnnn, it’ll be funnnnn-“

“It will not. Being married to you would be like being married to a fucking, I don’t know. Donkey. Something useless, anyway.”

“Donkeys aren’t useless! They’re intelligent, strong, social-“

“Shut the actual fuck up and go to bed. Come back when you’re not drunk.”

“You’re not saying no?”

Mu Qing sighed. “No. I’m not saying no.”

And that was how Mu Qing found himself in his study several months later, subtle ring glistening on his finger, attempting to choose flowers for the wedding decorations, because – to his surprise – Feng Xin had remembered, and had proposed again. And – to Feng Xin’s surprise – Mu Qing had said yes, on the condition that Feng Xin went nowhere near the décor and just focused on the invitations. Feng Xin’s fancy ass education would finally come in handy as he could use his calligraphy script.

“These for the garlands,” Mu Qing decided, handing off the various images to the servant on standby. “Do you think they match- DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT FENG XIN’S PUTTING IN HIS HAIR?” he hollered, so he could be heard by the servants in the hallway.

An attendant who had been quietly standing by in the corner stepped forward; he was wearing Feng Xin’s palace uniform and approached Mu Qing with a diplomatic smile. “My Lord has not chosen anything as he believed this to be your prerogative, sir,” he explained.

Mu Qing sighed. “Well. I suppose I did tell him not to touch anything. Serves me right..” Quickly, he rifled through the remaining images on his desk, before shrugging. “He can just match with me and suffer the consequences.”

The servant holding Mu Qing’s choices nodded, bowed, and hurried away; Feng Xin’s attendant returned to his corner.

Mu Qing sat back in his chair and sighed. They’d decided on simple-and-quiet, as far as weddings went, but even that needed a lot of preparations. They were certain they wanted to invite Xie Lian, but that probably meant the Ghost King would tag along and that was a mess all in itself; they definitely wanted Pei Ming so Mu Qing could flex on him with his event hosting skills and Feng Xin could just physically flex on him (their competition was complete nonsense and Mu Qing thought it was hilarious). Feng Xin had invited some of his weirdo friends that he liked to spar with. Mu Qing had invited some of his educated friends that he- well, okay, also liked to spar with, but they were so much more civilised than Feng Xin’s collection of jocks and morons!

They'd invited everyone that still counted themselves as Xie Lian’s friends as added incentive for him to leave Hua Cheng at home. They’d picked responsible attendants to bear the rings, and strong attendants to bear the weapons. Mu Qing had smugly picked three for his sabre, well aware of how heavy it was, and was laughed at by Feng Xin for being overdramatic; in the end, he’d had to pick four out of concern for his subordinates’ safety, and forced Feng Xin to assign an extra to the bow in case the original attendant overbalanced. They’d swapped dowry gifts, uncertain who was supposed to play ‘bride’ and ‘groom’ in this wedding and compromising on them both playing both parts, and sourced a biased officiant from Feng Xin’s clerk department who was certain to be Completely Normal about two men getting married because of an 800 year pact (and if Mu Qing had threatened him a little just to make sure, then who’s to say?).

And so, with wedding preparations almost finished, all that was left was to decide what they were telling everyone.

“I still think we could just be honest,” Feng Xin shrugged. “These guests are mostly martial gods, they understand the concept of a pact.”

“It’s not just a normal pact, though, is it?”

“…Yes it is?”

“It’s not! We made a pact to get married!”

“And?”

“And that’s not normal.”

“Says who? What’s wrong with saving a friend from a life of eternal single-ness?”

Mu Qing stared at him.

Feng Xin stared back.

“You think, after all this, we still count as just friends?” Mu Qing asked.

To his credit, Feng Xin actually thought about that. He thought about it for around 30 seconds before throwing his hands up in defeat. “Okay, maybe we’re not. But who cares? Do you care?”

“I’m marrying you, aren’t I?”

“Alright then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Freesias. That was the first thing guests saw as they found their places in the decorated hall, brushing petals from their seats and pollen from their hair.

“Out of season,” one guest whispered, “Must have cost a fortune.”

“Not at all, just the cost of manpower,” another pointed out, “This one’s been preserved with spiritual power.”

“Did General Xuan Zhen do it himself?” a third joined. “Or was it his servants?”

“I think it was him,” the first answered, inspecting the flower carefully.

“Trust,” Xie Lian interjected, making all three jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you all.”

“Not at all,” one of them answered. “But I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean by ‘trust’.”

“Freesias mean trust,” Xie Lian said, as a petal landed on his head. He brushed it off with a smile. “The happy couple have something very special,” he added, with a knowing look.

Whatever the others had to say in response was lost to the startlingly loud music that had begun from the back of the hall; the guests all stood when they spotted Mu Qing climbing from a sedan chair.

“He looks wonderful,” one girl giggled. “I can’t wait to see Lord Ju Yang…”

Her friend elbowed her and they both giggled a little more before they were silenced by a more conscientious subordinate. However, they didn’t have to wait for long; a second sedan chair arrived soon after, allowing Feng Xin to climb out, cheeks red with embarrassment, and take Mu Qing’s hand.

“So they are both the bride,” someone murmured in understanding.

“They’re both grooms,” another corrected. “It’s odd, though. Aren’t they only supposed to go in chairs for the first meeting?”

“They couldn’t really have a first meeting, though, they’ve been here for, like, millennia-“

They were shushed before they could reach a conclusion – the grooms were making their entrance. They processed elegantly up through the middle aisle, coming to stop at the front of the hall. Feng Xin cleared his throat.

“So, we’re gods,” he said. “We don’t have parents or family to honour with a tea ceremony at the moment since they’re, you know…”

“Dead,” said Mu Qing, making himself wince a little. “But we still want them to be part of this. We ask for your patience while we honour them as best we can.”

With that, a junior official placed the tea tray at their feet, prompting them to kneel and begin pouring. They set out cups for their parents – Mu Qing only set out one – and then cups for remembered cousins, aunts, uncles, friends, and others. Feng Xin’s collection was looking a little ridiculous by the end, covering the floor with tea for his siblings and cousins.

“Big family,” Mu Qing tutted under his breath, neatly lining his own cups up.

“Small family,” Feng Xin returned in the same tone, giving up on trying to organise anything.

They left the tea where it was, standing in place of the honoured guests that were missing, and went to sign the marriage license. Pei Ming cheerily officiated as the main witness – “I don’t want it to be Dianxia in case he brings the Ghost King,” Feng Xin insisted – and they offered Xie Lian the last cup of tea as Most Honoured Guest (“You should’ve been the witness,” Mu Qing grumbled). By this time, most guests looked bored and confused, having sat for an hour in formal robes and watched Feng Xin and Mu Qing bicker, poke each other, make sharp quips about divorce, re-fit each other’s hair pieces, make fun of each other’s signatures, complain the other wasn’t taking the ceremony seriously, trip over their long clothes (Feng Xin) and squabble over the correct way to pour tea (the classically trained Mu Qing).

“You all look cheery,” Pei Ming commented.

“They’re sick of your face,” said Mu Qing.

“Bring on the banquet!” Feng Xin agreed.

And so the guests were treated to another few hours of watching the pair argue, punch, and then push favoured dishes closer to each other while everyone around them tried to dodge the rice that went flying when Feng Xin made a wild gesture while storytelling or when Mu Qing’s chopsticks slipped from laughing too hard.

“He can laugh?” one of the Xuan Zhen subordinates marvelled, watching her boss’s eyes crinkle at Feng Xin’s ridiculous reenactment of an archery tournament he’d won.

“Only with my Lord,” a Ju Yang official nodded. “I’ve seen it often.”

Feng Xin imitated a competitor’s bowstring snapping in his face. Mu Qing buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with mirth. Pei Ming moved a few seats down the table, further away from the couple, when Feng Xin nearly decapitated him while miming his opponent’s dramatic wailing after a heavy loss. He had a sneaking suspicion Mu Qing had positioned his husband to achieve this, but he had no proof of that.

They were congratulated by Xie Lian; Mu Qing surreptitiously wiped his tears away with Feng Xin’s sleeve and adopted his signature poker face when questioned about it.

They were accosted by Feng Xin’s sparring partners, jostled for space in their seats at the head of the table; Feng Xin laughed heartily and

“Can you focus on the question at hand?!”

“What’s the question- oh yeah! Well. Uh. Do you want it to be real?”

“Isn’t that literally what I just said?”

“Well you said ‘what if’ so I wasn’t sure if that was actually-“

“Gods in heaven, do you ever shut up?” Mu Qing complained, and surged across the room to plant his lips on Feng Xin’s.

“So they did work it out,” one official noted, watching Feng Xin and Mu Qing spar, grins high on their faces and cheeks flushed as they fought to keep their focus.

“I kind of wish they didn’t,” another agreed, watching them give up on the fight to make out instead.

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

[stumped-on-bennington]

Chasing Buses

Summary: You go to work expecting it to be just like any other day, little do you know that this job will chance the course of your life forever.

Pairing: Patrick Stump x Reader

Author's note: I haven't written fanfiction in like 5 years so im out of practice when it comes to this lol. regardless i hope you enjoy it! and feel free to leave some constructive criticism so that i can hopefully improve!

Another day of work. That was all today was supposed to be. Your job wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that bad either. You worked for a tour bus company. Your job was to ride along with the band and bus driver throughout the tour and to help keep the bus stocked with drinks, food, and whatever else the band requested. Basically, you were a glorified gofer.

You’ve toured with tons of bands before. Some were super easy and nice and some treated you like garbage. Even the bands who didn’t even acknowledge you were better than the latter, and it was always the bands that would put so much effort into how they appeared to fans. You didn’t have a very wide range in terms of music taste, so when those types of bands would be on your bus and would find out that you didn’t listen to their music, that's when they would start looking down on you. 

You headed to the pick up spot with your luggage for the tour. Turns out you would be in charge of two buses this time. From what your boss told you, this band had 4 members and they would be riding 2 and 2 in each bus, so you would need to take inventory at each venue so you could figure out what you needed to pick up for each bus. As you approached, you noticed that it looked like only 2 of the members were there. They were both relatively short men, probably just about the same height as you, if not just an inch or two taller. One was slightly chubby, with his ginger hair peeking out from under a slightly crooked trucker hat. The other was more lean with shoulder length hair and a labret piercing. They were just standing outside the buses, looking around and texting on their phones, looking a little frantic. It was already 11:45 and they needed to get out of there by 12 in order to make it to the first venue on time. 

“Hey, uh.. You guys in the band?” You say, walking up to the two.

“Oh, yeah, I'm Patrick and this is Andy.” said the ginger man as he motioned towards the other, “We’re just waiting on two others, they should be here pretty soon.” 

You nodded your head and headed towards one of the buses to put your stuff away. After picking one of the bunks and throwing your bags in it, you walked back out the bus to hear a car screeching as it pulled up. Two more men hopped out, one with the really curly hair instantly went to the trunk to grab their bags while the other man, the one with dark emo hair, got out and shouted back into the car, “Thanks mom! I’ll make sure to call you!” The Woman in the car waved at all the boys before pulling off. Patrick waved and yelled “Bye, Ms. Wentz!” as she drove away. 

"Great,” you thought, “now that the others are here we can start getting on the road and get a head start in travel.” Before you can get a chance to introduce yourself to the other two, they are pushing each other, yelling, and running onto one of the buses; coincidentally, the bus that you had already put your stuff down in. “Great.” you think. You momentarily think about getting your bag and moving it into the other bus with the two more tame men, but before you can even fully consider the idea the leading driver steps out and tells you all that it is time to leave.  Hesitantly you get on the bus where the two lunatics are. 

Stepping on the bus you find that the two have already started to make themselves at home. They already have their bags open and strewn about the sitting area and one of them is already smoking a bowl. You Sigh at the mess that is already in front of you and the thought of what is to come.

 Just then the emo looking one approaches you. “So, uh… who are you?” he asks.

“I’m Y/N. I work for the bus company.” You say.

“Shit, we got a babysitter??” The curly haired one says, after talking a rip off his pipe. 

“I'm just a gofer. Whatever you guys need on the bus, I’ll get it.” You tell them.

“Oh, sweet! So like anything? You can get us ANYTHING?” the emo one asks.

“Anything that is legal, yes.” You inform him. 

He shrugs at your response and takes a seat next to the other man, plopping down on the sofa. “So, Y/N. Tell me, is this a dream come true for you?” He asks.

“What?” You ask, a little taken aback by the odd question.

“You know. You look to be in your 20s, you dress pretty alt,” He motions to your black tee shirt with white long sleeve under and your baggy jeans. “So you have to be into Fall Out Boy. You must be pretty stoked to be touring along with THE Pete Wentz,” He points to himself, “and Joe Trohman.” he points to the other man. 

You laugh at the assumption, gaining a raised eyebrow from Pete. “What? What's so funny?” He asks.

You compose yourself before speaking, “I have no idea who you guys are, dude! I don’t have time to listen to music because of the restraints of my job. The only thing I get to listen to is whatever the driver listens to on the road, which usually happens to be Aerosmith.” You say, nodding a head towards the driver’s seat. Pete and Joe look at you for a second, then each other, then once again back at you. 

“Sweet!” They both say in unison. “It’ll be great to have someone our age to hang around that doesn’t care who we are. It’s impossible to talk to anyone who isn’t in the band without them freaking out and having a moment.” Pete says. You laugh at the excitement the two express at the thought of making a new friend. 

After getting settled in a little bit, Pete and Joe tell you more about themselves and the other members of the band. You learn that Pete and Andy are both 26 and Joe and Patrick are both 21, they're from a city just outside of Chicago, and that Patrick is single and that you are “totally his type” as Pete puts it. You roll your eyes at this comment. You're used to getting hit on in your line of work, it comes with the territory of spending months on buses full of men. You choose not to mix work and relationships, knowing that it just gets messy and leads to people getting hurt, plus the last thing you need is your boss to find out your helping the clients out in that way. 

Before you know it you're already pulling up to the venue bus parking. You take a quick inventory of both the buses and make a list of anything that needs to be restocked. While the crew are getting the stage set up, you get in the rental car that your company sets to be delivered at each venue for you specifically to do your job. You make the run to the store, making sure to get enough water, snacks, and other meal items for both the buses. You make sure to follow the special requests that were left for you, like making sure to get a selection of vegan options for Andy, and even pick up a few extra things for yourself, like your favorite candies. Once you’re all done with your shopping, you get loaded into the car and drive back to the venue. It’s still a little early so the parking lot isn't too bad, but there are a few really dedicated fans who are already lining up at the front door. You pull around to the restricted back and flash your badge at the security, who lets you drive right through. 

When you pull up to the buses you see that the band members are standing right outside, playing around with some toy that Pete had brought with him. As you step out and walk around to the trunk of the car, Patrick instantly perks up and rushes over, “Hey, let me help you!” He says, Grabbing a few of the bags from the trunk and bringing them towards the buses. 

“One second!” you say to Patrick before he enters either of the buses. You walk over and double check the bags that he is carrying. “Okay, these ones go on Pete and Joe’s bus. The rest should go for you and Andy, and then we can put a case of water on each bus.” Patrick nods at these instructions and carries the bags onto the appropriate bus while you bring yours to the other. You get everything put away and then head back out to get the case of water for the bus. As you walk out you see Patrick coughing a bit as he steps off the other bus, he quickly walks over to you. 

“You’re ok with them smoking on the bus?” He asks you.

“They paid extra to be able to, so I can’t really object to it.” You tell him, shrugging your shoulders. Patrick looks at you with a frown on his face. 

“Besides, I was planning on moving over to your bus before we take off from the venue tonight. Something tells me that no matter how well I hide some of my snacks, Pete is going to end up finding them.” You say, earning a chuck from Patrick. “Yeah,” he says, “Pete has a nose like a doberman, you can't keep anything from him.”

By the time you get the groceries all put away the guys are already off to the sound check. You use the down time to move your things from your original bus to Patrick’s bus, and then make your way backstage to watch some of the show. You pick a spot just off the side of the stage where you won’t be in the way. The concert starts and you learn real quick why Pete was surprised you didn’t know who they were. They freaking rock! Every song is something amazing and Patrick’s voice, oh man can he sing! You were truly taken aback by their music. 

As they played, you must have had a look of amazement, because when Patrick looked over at you he had the biggest smile on his face. Pete, noticing the beaming smile that Patrick had and looked in the direction he kept glancing at. It was like Pete could smell the electric bond that you two were sharing in the moment and knew what he had to do. 

When the show ended you were grinning ear to ear as Patrick walked up to you. 

“So I take it that you liked the show?” he asked. 

“You guys are really something! When I first saw you I had no idea you had such a beautiful singing voice!” you say.

Patrick blushes slightly at the comment, “T-thanks, I'm really happy that you enjoyed it.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. As you walk with Patrick back to the buses, you hear what sounds like a raging bull running towards you from behind. As you both look back you see Pete and Joe carrying a yelling and kicking Andy, running with him towards the buses. Before either you or Patrick have time to question what they were doing, Pete and Joe carry Andy onto their bus and slam the door. Before you know it, the bus starts taking off. Confused, both you and Patrick rush to get on the other bus in order to follow after them. 

“What was that about?” you ask Patrick.

“I have no idea, but knowing Pete and Joe, it's probably not going to end well.” He says, sitting next to you on the sofa in the shared space. Just then you feel your phone go off. It’s a text from Pete, “when the hell did he put his number in my phone?” You say as you open the text.

Pete: enjoy the free time w/ trick xoxo ;) 

You sigh at the text, knowing now that Pete is absolutely crazy.

Just then Patrick also gets a text. 

Pete: make some moves and make them count. andy is pissed and i dont want it to be for nothin >:)

Patrick blushes at the text. Realizing how his friends were trying to set him up. 

You both sit there awkwardly for a minute, unsure of what to say. 

Patrick clears his throat, “so, uh, Y/N… What are you into? Like do you have any hobbies or favorite movies?” 

You shift in your seat slightly, still feeling the awkward tension. “Well, I play bass and draw a bit, but I don’t usually have a whole lot of time to enjoy those things, being on the road most of the time makes it hard to get a break where I can practice.” You say, rubbing the back of your neck. “As for favorite movies, I mostly like stuff from the 80s, so The Goonies, Top Gun, Indiana Jones and The Breakfast Club. but my all time favorite movie is Ghostbusters.”

Patrick instantly sat up with excitement, “Really? Ghostbusters is my favorite too! I basically have all the words memorized. What's your favorite line?” 

“Yes it's true,” you begin to say. Patrick knows exactly what line you're referring to and joins in, saying it in unison with you. “This man has no dick!” You both laugh with excitement over your shared interest. Talking more and finding out you have a lot in common. 

Soon the buses pull up to a gas station to refuel, allowing everyone to get down for snacks and to stretch their legs. You and Patrick happily hop off the bus, still chatting and laughing.

Pete, Joe, and Andy also get off their bus and begin walking towards you too. Andy looks defeated, tired, and his face and hair are covered in dead bugs.

“Andy, what happened to you??” Patricks asks.

“Their whole bus smells like weed. I couldn't handle it.” Andy said with an exhausted tone.

“Dude spent the entire ride with his head out the window. I know he's straight edge, but we didn’t even smoke at all while he was with us.” Pete says, budding in. 

You and Patrick help to get Andy back onto your bus so he can clean his face and rest, 

“Oh hey, I actually brought my copy of Ghostbusters with me! We can pop it in the DVD player on the bus and watch it together!.. I-if you want.” Patrick says, stuttering a little bit at the end, realizing how what he just asked sounds like a bit of a date. 

“Oh hell, yea!” you say, “Wait, I have the perfect snacks for us to share!” You say, retrieving your secret stash. You open the bag, revealing the assortment of black liquorice, hi-chews, and butterscotch drops. Patrick’s heart skips a beat seeing all his favorite candies. You set up the sofa with pillows and blankets and make it super cozy as Patrick gets the TV set up. You both watch the movie, laughing and reciting every line, word for word together. By the end of the end of the movie you’ve both fallen asleep, cuddled into each other and holding on as if your lives depended on it. 

From that night forward, you and Patrick were inseparable. 

Bonus!:

Andy: guys let me back on your bus please

Pete: why? i thought you didnt like our bus?

Andy: they put on ghostbusters and it's unbearable. i feel like i'm listening to it in stereo 

Andy: *Image attachment*

Andy: they fell asleep finally, but i already know theyre going to be doing this every night. trade me buses plz

Pete: aww look at them, so cute 

Andy: pete plz 

Pete: sux 2 sux. Xoxo <3