#like i said it’s gonna be sometime this winter or fall

[milflewis]

there is nothing like the sheer anxious relief that you feel when you come out of a really shit exam and everyone around you is saying how hard it was

[wolvietxt]

𝓡ARE 𝓢IGHT !

pairing : logan howlett x reader warnings : fluff, budding relationship au, grumpy x sunshine tropes wc : 1.6k

logan had never considered himself much of a winter person. the cold never really bothered him, but he wasn’t exactly fond of it either. the whole idea of trudging through snow and ice didn’t appeal to him, especially not for the sake of fun. so, when you came bouncing up to him in the mansion’s hallway, eyes sparkling with excitement and cheeks flushed from the chill outside, he was already bracing himself for whatever half-baked idea you’d come up with this time.

"logan!" you called, breathless and grinning as you skidded to a stop in front of him. "come with me. it’s gonna be great, i promise."

he raised a skeptical eyebrow. "and what exactly am i comin’ along for?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "’cause if it involves gettin’ my ass handed to me in a snowball fight, you can count me out."

you laughed, the sound bright and full of warmth, and for a moment, logan’s usual gruffness softened. there was just something about you that always managed to slip through the cracks in his defenses. "no snowball fights, i swear," you promised, tugging on his hand. "just come outside and see. i think you’ll like it."

with a sigh and a shake of his head, logan let himself be dragged along, following you out of the mansion and into the cold. the air was crisp and sharp, his breath fogging up in front of him as he walked, and he couldn’t help but notice the way you seemed to bounce with each step, your excitement palpable. he kept a watchful eye on you, a protective instinct that had taken root sometime in the last few months without him even realizing it.

you led him to the courtyard, where the fountain had frozen over, a smooth sheet of ice glistening beneath the winter sun. there were a couple of old skates resting nearby, likely borrowed from the mansion’s storage room, and you gave him an eager look as you bent down to pull them on. "c’mon, logan," you said, your voice a mix of encouragement and challenge. "you can’t tell me you’ve never ice skated before."

logan huffed, glancing at the skates with a skeptical eye. "not really my thing," he grumbled, but he was already kneeling down to lace them up anyway. there was something about the way you looked at him - like you believed he could do anything - that made it hard to say no.

"don’t worry," you said, standing up and wobbling a bit on the skates before finding your balance. "i’ll help you. promise i won’t let you fall."

logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest as he got to his feet. "you think you’re gonna catch me?" he asked, smirking. "darlin’, i weigh about twice as much as you do."

you grinned at him, undeterred. "guess that means you’ll just have to hang onto me, then."

and that was how he found himself out on the ice with you, his usually steady stance feeling awkward and clumsy as the skates slid across the frozen surface. he hadn’t done anything like this in years - hell, maybe even decades - but you moved with surprising ease, your gloved hand slipping into his to steady him.

"you’re doing great," you encouraged, your voice soft and earnest. "just relax a little. don’t fight the ice."

logan snorted at that, the corner of his mouth quirking up despite himself. "easier said than done," he muttered, but he let you pull him along, his fingers tightening around yours as he tried to find his balance. every time he stumbled, you were there to keep him upright, your laughter ringing out like music against the quiet winter air.

at first, he kept his focus on not falling, but soon, the rhythmic motion of gliding across the ice began to feel almost natural. he still wasn’t graceful - nowhere near it - but you didn’t seem to care. when he finally managed a full lap around the fountain without nearly toppling over, you clapped for him, your eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "see?" you said, a bit breathless. "told you you could do it."

"yeah, yeah," logan grumbled, but there was a warmth in his voice that hadn’t been there before. "guess i’m a real natural."

you grinned and released his hand, skating ahead a little before turning to face him. "now try to catch me!" you called, pushing off and gaining speed as you circled the fountain.

logan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. "you’re gonna regret that," he warned, picking up speed and chasing after you.

you laughed, the sound echoing across the courtyard, and logan found himself surprised by just how much he was enjoying this. maybe it was the cold air against his face, the challenge of keeping up with you, or the way you kept glancing over your shoulder with that playful glint in your eye. whatever it was, he was starting to think you’d had the right idea all along.

as he got closer, you spun around again, nearly colliding with him in the process. with a startled gasp, you lost your balance, your arms flailing slightly as you tried to stay upright. before you could hit the ice, logan’s hands shot out, steadying you as he caught you by the waist. he pulled you close, your breath puffing out in small clouds between you as you clung to his jacket to keep from falling.

"easy there," he murmured, his voice low and gruff as he looked down at you, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes. "thought you said you weren’t gonna let me fall."

"i… was testing you," you replied, breathless and smiling up at him, your cheeks flushed from the cold. "wanted to see if you’d catch me."

logan just shook his head, a faint chuckle escaping him as he held you a little closer than necessary. "and what would you’ve done if i didn’t?"

"guess i’d just have to drag you down with me," you said with a playful grin, and he found himself laughing for real this time, the sound deep and unguarded.

he kept his arm around you as you skated together, your laughter mixing with the occasional scrape of the blades on the ice. as much as he didn’t want to admit it, there was a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time, a warmth that had little to do with the winter sun and everything to do with you. it was strange, letting himself enjoy something so simple, but it was easy when he was with you - everything felt a little easier when you were around.

eventually, you both skated to a stop near the edge of the fountain, your breaths coming out in puffs of mist as you leaned against each other for support. logan’s hand lingered on your back, his touch gentle and grounding, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the closeness.

"didn’t know you could actually have fun," you teased, glancing up at him with a twinkle in your eye. "figured you were allergic to it or something."

logan grunted, his lips quirking into a smirk. "don’t get used to it," he said, but there was a softness in his gaze that betrayed his words. "might be a one-time thing."

you knew he was only half-serious, and it warmed you to see this side of him - unguarded, almost boyish in a way. "well, in that case, i’m glad i got to see it," you said quietly, your voice carrying a note of sincerity that seemed to catch him off guard.

logan’s expression softened further, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. he reached up, almost absently, and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. "you’re a real piece of work, y’know that?" he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind. "always gettin’ me into things i got no business doin’."

"maybe you just like having an excuse to keep me around," you replied, your tone light but your heart hammering in your chest.

his eyes met yours, a flicker of something deeper in them as he held your gaze. "yeah," he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. "maybe i do."

before you could think of a response, a cheer from inside the mansion broke the moment. you glanced over to see a group of the x-men gathered by one of the large windows, watching the two of you with varying degrees of surprise and amusement. bobby, rogue, and kitty were practically pressed up against the glass, while scott and jean stood further back, shaking their heads with fond smiles.

logan grunted, his expression darkening slightly as he turned back to you. "damn kids," he muttered, though the irritation didn’t reach his eyes. "can’t do anything without them stickin’ their noses in it."

"well, it’s not every day we get to see logan smile," you teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "you’re kind of a rare sight, y’know?"

he huffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards again. "guess i’ll have to give ‘em somethin’ else to look at," he said, and before you could ask what he meant, he took your hand and led you back out onto the ice.

you let him guide you, the two of you gliding together in a slow circle, your hand

fitting perfectly in his. the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the quiet rhythm of your skates on the ice. maybe you weren’t quite sure what this was between you and logan just yet, but as you skated together, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something good.

🏷️ logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun

[writers-hes]

i need you (2 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to...maybe this time he feels the same? (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, canon typical themes, unedited)

PART ONE / navigation

Sorry for the things I said. 

I appreciate you. 

He erases the messages that he wanted to send. It was tempting…

The flowers he let die mocks him by the stove. It was a fire hazard he knew; but if this room burned down, would you come over to check if he was doing well? 

His eyes look ahead, empty. Ever since that incident in the kitchen weeks ago, the Chefs have been on edge. Who wouldn’t be? He was cutting away those vegetables like he just didn’t cut his hand. He decided to forget about you…for now. But it was hard, considering the fact that your artwork hung in The Bear like a mantlepiece. A mantlepiece for others but he sees it like a crufix and he, a sinner with no redemption. It mocks him of his mistakes…of what he said. Everything seemd to mock him. 

Ever since that bloody incident in the kitchen a few days ago, Carmy made sure to never commit a mistake again. Every second counts, every second counts…every second he counted was spent on you. 

Were you alright? Were you in Chicago? Did you still need him? Or were you alright since he's finally out of your life?

You’re so fucking miserable. 

It rang in his head because he knew that it was true. He was—is miserable. He made everyone around him just as miserable as he was. He could never grasp the intensity of his feelings; could never seem to grasp anything. He thinks to himself to just fuck it all and go to you and grovel…but he just couldn’t. He knew he wanted more. He was well aware of his feelings for you but to think that he made a mess of everything that he could ever have was hard to swallow. 

Carmy has the habit of hiding from his allies. He can’t control his emotions but sometimes, he bides his time hoping to fix it. He tries to wait for the perfect time to fix what he burned but…it’s been too long since you last saw each other. It’s been too long since he sent you a message.

Would you still love me? 

You weren’t doing any better. Carmen, despite his refusal to love, was warm. He’s the sun shining on a cold winter day; the warmth that spreads all over your body from the kiss that he leaves on your shoulder. You missed him dearly, but you couldn’t have it in you to reach out first when it was him who didn’t love you. 

The realization of Carmen not loving you back was bearable at first but to see it right in front of your eyes…to be on the receiving end of his rejection was more than what you could comprehend. 

In a span of those months without Carmen, you felt…like there was a gaping Carmen Berzatto-shaped hole inside your heart that only he could fix. You’ve been in and out of Chicago to forget about him, but you couldn’t. At the end of the day, you were just as miserable as when you first realized that you'd fallen for him. Was it asking for too much when you asked him to still be your friend? The more he pushed you away, the more you were convinced that you didn’t matter to him at all. 

Is it too late for me to love you? 

You’ve been surrounding yourself with work; painting in your studio for what felt like years until you were sure that your fingers were gonna fall off.

If walls could talk, they’d tell the world of Carmen Berzatto. 

You’ve been purging yourself of anything Carmy and you found yourself painting every single food he’s ever made for you. It was all that you could do to relieve yourself of the sobs that choked you at night; when you didn’t want to acknowledge that the man you loved didn’t love you back. You should have been fine—you were expecting this. You were anticipating this but you still wondered what it would be like to be loved by him. You still wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand in the streets of Chicago. You wondered how his hand would feel on your knee while he drives back home. You wondered what it felt like to be loved by him. 

-

You were meeting some art collector today—he seems to be keen on commissioning you for your work and you accepted. He was supposed to arrive in Chicago to meet you and to try a new restaurant that everyone’s been raving about. He said that he already had a reservation for three but he couldn’t go and told you to meet with his art consultant, Isaac on his stead.  

You should’ve known from the context clues that you’ll be landing in a place you didn’t want to go to. You should’ve been smarter because maybe, if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting at The Bear, waiting for your frozen grapes and bone broth. Surprise was one word to describe Natalie’s face when she saw you. 

“So, how did you realize you wanted to pursue art?” 

“Oh,” you licked your lips. “I guess, I wanted to pursue it all my life. It was something that I was good at and…and I can’t really cook well. I liked how food was presented and how empty dinner plates look sometimes, you know. It didn’t take long for me to collaborate with chefs and restaurants and…”

“Is that your piece?” Isaac asked. “I’m sorry, I just—wow. Do you think the manager will let me come nearer to inspect it?”

You smiled at him. 

“Um, yeah.” you nod. Richie comes by and stops by your table.

“Good evening, guys,” he greets. “Y/N, it’s been a while.”

“Hey, Rich,” you waved.

“We’ll get you started with frozen grapes in a minute,” he says. “How’s your night? Didn’t know I’d find you here.”

“Oh, this is Isaac. Isaac, Richie.”

Isaac stands up to shake Richie’s hand.

“Do you want to go see the painting? It’s even more detailed up close,” Richie said, ushering Isaac to the painting. He throws you a look as if to ask for your permission but you just smiled at him. Your knee was bouncing under the table, trying to calm yourself down. Richie walks back to your table. 

“You know he’s not going to like that,”

“I’m in a business meeting,” you shrugged. “Isaac is an art consultant and his boss told us he couldn’t come. Do you need to see my text messages?”

“I know, I’m not fucking accusing you of anything. Don’t be defensive,” Richie says, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “But had I known that we were going here, I would’ve suggested another place. I don’t want to be here either.” Richie looks for the object of your focus, seeing your eyes zero in on the painting you gave to Carmen.

“We all love the painting. Carmy loves it. He looks at it every day before opening,” he offers but you only shrug. If he loved the painting so much, why didn’t he text you? “You should’ve thrown it at me instead of throwing it at the back. Could’ve earned thousands on that one,” you chuckled, telling him that it probably would. He sees Isaac come back to the table after marvelling at your painting. Richie smiles tightly and tells him that starters will be served shortly. 

-

“Yo, Y/N’s outside. We have to bring our A game!” Richie shouts in the kitchen. “Make her first time here an experience. Fak, make sure that the lamp over Y/N and Isaac isn’t too hot and then, ask if you could serve them some drinks.”

“Okay,” Fak nods, fixing his hair to make sure that he was presentable. It takes a bit for Carmy to register what Richie was saying and he blinks. 

“Wait, hold up. Cousin. Who’s here? Y/N…she’s here?” Carmy asked, taking the teapot of bone broth. “With…with who?”

“Isaac,” Richie replied, he was watching Carmy fix his hair and his uniform. What an asshole. 

“Carmy! Don’t fucking—go,” Sydney whispers the last part, looking pointedly at Richie once Carmy leaves with the fucking teapot. “Really, Richie? Tonight? You want to play fucking games tonight?” she asked. “Need I remind you of the bloody chopping board? Sweeps hasn’t removed the stains out yet,”

“What?” he shrugs. “Everyone’s been on edge since they stopped talking. It’s nice to take a breather,” Richie saw the realization dawn on Sydney’s face and he smirks. “Right, chefs! It will take Carmy two minutes to go do his alpha whatever fucking bullshit outside. That’s two minutes of easy time. I’ll need focaccia for Y/N’s table after the fucking grapes. Make sure that the dishes are warm, chefs! Every second counts,”

-

“Good evening,” he greets, a tight smile on his face. He catches the way your smile falls slowly into a frown. 

“Carmen,” you replied. 

“Finally had the time to visit,” he says. “With a date?”

“Ah, no,” you replied. “Isaac is my customer’s art consultant and he’s uh,”

“Here to make a deal,” Isaac replied. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Berzatto.”

“Here’s your broth with the-the grapes,” he says, shakily pouring it over the frozen grapes. “Hope you, uh, enjoy the evening, Y/N. Isaac,”

He turns to leave but pauses.

“Um, sorry, Y/N can I have a word with you?” he asked. “Please,”

You swallowed. “Um—“ 

Isaac saw your apprehension. “It’s okay. You’re friends…right? I’ll stay here,”

“Sure. I’ll take two minutes. I’m so sorry,” you apologized before letting him lead you to the kitchen. “Hi, guys. Sorry for interrupting,”

“It’s fine,” Richie says, smiling at you sweetly. 

“Carmy, we can talk later, okay? Your kitchen needs you,” you tried. You’ve been saying that to him even before your entrance to the kitchen, but he only shakes his head. 

“Just…two minutes,” he says. “Please,”

“Carmen…”

“Please,” he tried. He didn’t really want his staff to see him grovel even though he knew that this was bringing them some sort of a sadistic joy. 

“Sorry, everyone,” you forced out, but Sydney was actually thankful to get Carmen out of the kitchen for a few minutes. If it was possible, Carmy was even more unreasonable. His standards were tip top. A second too long was a second too much. He and Sydney have been screaming at each other every night; the volume of their voices louder by the second. 

You followed him into the office, being reminded of the hurtful words you’ve said to each other. He locks the door, and runs a hand over his face.

“What…what are you doing here?” he scowls. 

“I’m a paying customer. I can go wherever I want,”

“With him? What are you doing here with him?” he asked, hands on his waist to show his impatience. You decided to make him wait and he does, urging you to answer by raising his eyebrows. 

“I don’t think it matters to you,” you replied. “I can go eat wherever I want. I can afford it,”

“I’m-I’m not saying that you can’t. Just-just tell me why here?”

“Why are you so bothered? You can’t question every guy you see me with, Carm,” you reasoned out. “You told me you didn’t love me. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to still know where I go and who I spend time with.” He flinches at your tone. You’ve never talked to him like that before. You were always so gentle. So, for you to disregard him and not even give a reason why, an icy glare thrown his way…was mean.

“I can kick you out,” he spits. You scowl at him; he’s never been the subject of your anger and right now, you were seething. 

“So, kick me out,” you challenged him, meeting his eyes with the dort of ferocity that he never expected from you. He stays silent, looking at the floor. He didn’t want you to hate him more than you already do. “I thought so,”

-

Urgent and demanding raps on your door broke you from your reviere. You liked painting in silence; it soothes you from the loudness of the world outside. You sighed, knowing immediately who was on the other side. Your breath was shaky, and you tried to walk slowly towards the door. What would you even say to him? 

Carmy was a jittering mess on the other side. He couldn’t get you out of his head ever since you visited The Bear a few days ago. He was watching from the other side after service, seeing you laugh at whatever Isaac said. He was making you laugh when that was reserved to Carmen alone…months ago before he ruined everything he ever wanted. He waits with bated breath as you open the door. He used to be able to just come inside your house whenever he wanted. You used to wait for him with a small smile on your face. It is all gone now. You looked tired; like you didn’t want him there at all. 

“Can I come in?” he asked but he didn’t miss the way you shielded your body with the door. He didn’t miss the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“Sure.” Sure. Like you didn’t have any other choice but to deal with him right now. Sure. 

“Thanks,” he licks his lips, putting his shoes on the side like he used to. Your home was clean but it was devoid of anything. The lights were barely on and the music that used to play from your vinyl was nowhere to be heard. Carmy used to tease you for being pretentious. It’s too quiet inside your house right now.

“Do you want anything? Water?”

“No, thanks,” he says, and you nod. “I’m…I just—I don’t know why I’m here,”

“I see,” you replied, looking anywhere but at him. “Can I help you?”

“Um—who-who were you with the other day?”

“You can’t just…question or decide to drop by when you see me with someone else, Carm,” you said, voice low and careful. “He was an art consultant,”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes inviting you to look at him but you wouldn’t budge. He knew why. He knew that he was an art consultant but something inside Carmy was telling him that the planning had been deliberate and that you went there with malice. To spite him…make him jealous…it was narcissistic but what if?

“Because…because you don’t love me,” you chuckled. There was something funny about not being loved back by a person who used to come to you at the smallest inconvenience. “You don’t love me but the first thing you do is to freak out. It was a work meeting and you freaked out. You don’t love me, Carmy,”

“How many times will-will you hold that over me?” he asked, frowning. “Why are you acting like-like I did something wrong? You can’t control how I feel, Y/N! Give it up!” 

“Because I can and I want to, Carmen!” you exclaimed, chest heaving. Your throat constricted at his rejection. This was the second time. “I can and I want to hold that over you because I’m hurt. I am hurt. You hurt me. You toss me away to the side and-and you expect me to be forgiving. You expect me to just understand,” 

“You have to accept that I…don’t—that I don’t love you that way,” he whispers, and it just breaks your heart because he still couldn’t get it. 

“I’m not asking you to love me back,” you croak, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel—or what to feel but you didn’t even text me. You didn’t ask me how I was doing…or -or said hi to me. You—you…I don’t know. You just stopped.”

“Why didn’t you text me first?”

“Because I told you how much you mattered to me. I told you that I love you. I thought that if I didn’t text you, you'd miss me and…God, Carmen. I would have been fine if you didn’t love me back. It would have been fucking dandy. It would have been great if you could have just…treated me like a—like a friend, you know? I still would’ve been there for you…but you shut me out! You showed me just how little I mattered to you, Carm. Did you know that…? You—you treat me like how you treat everyone else when you’re the one who needs me. ”

“You do—you matter to me…”

“Actions speak louder than words,” you spat, your arms crossed over your chest. “You only text me first when you want a quick fuck. I’m free tonight? Want to go? You can’t even say that you want to have sex with me,”

Carmen was at a loss for words. He was hurt that you’d think that way of him when he thought the world of you. Did you really think that you’d matter to Carmen just because he wanted to fuck you?

“Hey, don’t-don’t do that. That isn’t fair to me. You know that-that you mean more to me than that. You’re being unfair,”

“Unfair,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m being unfair when you’re the one inside my home after seeing me with a guy that I am working with.”

“It’s my fucking restaurant! It’s my goddamn restaurant,” he exclaimed, running his hand over his golden hair that you loved so much. “It’s my fucking goddamn restaurant!”

“And I’m fucking telling you that I can do whatever I want!” you retorted, matching the intensity of his voice. “Why do you care, Carmen?” you spit.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what? Carm? Carmy? Bear? Carmen…Anthony…Berzatto?” you taunt, the same venom dripping from your voice. He just never heard it from you before and it was an unpleasant feeling. “I’m not…I’m not going to let you push me around just because I love you, Carmy,” you shook your head. 

Carmy stares at you, his face pinched in frustration and in sadness. He looks away, swallowing. He presses his hand over his chest to ground him. He didn’t know if he should be mad at you for making him feel this way. Like he needs you all the time to be alright. He didn’t know if he should be angry at himself for letting you lure him into your trap and your promises of warmth and love and…contentment. All this time, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone much less you for that matter. 

“Say something,” you urged, looking at him desperately but he just shakes his head. You could feel it—feel him detach himself from you. You could feel him cower, hide his feelings…the real reason why he was knocking on your door in the first place.  “Fucking say something, Carm! Tell me why you’re here,” 

He just stands there unmoving, blinking back any emotion. He wanted to store everything in his brain. He didn’t want to feel anymore…he didn’t… 

“Fucking hell,” you whispered shakily. “I don’t know what you want from me…but I can’t go on like-like this! I can’t open the door for you every time you knock. I can’t answer every time you call…just…please, Carmy. Fucking say something.” 

Still, he stays silent. 

A sardonic chuckle escapes your lips. 

“Leave when you want to, I don’t give a shit. Just…just don’t come inside my fucking studio, Carmen. I was expecting you to apologize to tell me that you still want to be friends…I guess I thought I mattered to you more than that,” you told him, walking away. He just watches you go to your studio, hearing the sounds of your materials being thrown in different directions. It doesn’t make him flinch; he just watches the fire burn.

It’s time to go. 

-

Carmen has been living in autopilot since his last visit. It was probably jealousy that prompted him to act like a jagoff but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Instead, he was harder on himself, beating himself up over the smallest things—if a dice wasn’t precise, it wasn’t good enough. Food out for a second too long was cold. It was like reliving New York but he was the perpetrator. He was the one pushing his boundaries until he hated what he was doing and Carmy admits, it was not healthy. 

But what else could he do? Cooking was the only thing he was good at and there was nothing else to do other than work. 

That was a lie. 

He sometimes spent hours rereading the messages you sent him. You’d always text him to have a good day…a funny photo that reminded you of him…

He smiles at some of them, but it’s quickly replaced by the frown that etches on his face because he will never receive these messages from you. Isaac probably fucking does though. He grips his phone tightly in his hands; he hates that thought. He looks at his phone blankly, the message from you illuminating his face blue. 

parm4carm? carmyggiano reggiano? carmensan hahahahahaha i’m at a meeting and i want to laugh because i’m thinking of things to add to your name

He didn’t remember replying but he did remember the small satisfaction that the message brought him all day. You were thinking of him and you were trying to make him laugh; he tried his best to stop himself from smiling but Richie noticed it immediately. 

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he asked him but Carmy only flipped him off, turning around to stop Richie from seeing him. 

He sighs. It’s not like what you had wasn’t fun. In fact, he was quite sure that it was the somewhat-only healthy relationship that he has. You both gave wach other space, you talked things through. When he started dating Claire, he went to your apartment first to tell you about her. You shrugged it off, not really minding who Carmy dated back then. When he apologized for not inviting you to the opening despite multiple protests from Richie and Sydney, you understood. When he stopped responding for a week, you showed up to his door with a pack of his favorite cigarettes and a box of doughnuts. 

Looking back, did he ever do anything for you?

“Carmy, you good?” Sugar asked. He was more standoffish; he smokes more, and he doesn’t speak much. It’s always only a grunt or a “yeah yeah.”

“Oh,” Carmy says, blinking. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Carmy…” Sugar tries. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods. “I…I’m just thinking, you know? Like-like, I fuck everything up and-and I’m aware of it,” he says. “I know that what I’m doing isn’t right but…you know, I-I always have this dream of a fire…and I just watch it burn…” 

Sugar nods, trying to coax out the lump in Carmy’s throat.

“I wonder if I just don’t speak…will they understand me? I can’t fuck things up again just because I have no cell reception. What if that happens again?” he asked, frowning. “Fuck,”

“Do you think she’s distracting? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”

“But I…I want to,” he says, his hand pressed on his chest. “I want to, Nat but I can’t,”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Carmy. Go talk to the girl,” she smiles and Carmy could only nod because maybe Nat was right. If he could just…talk to you without jumping on your throat and without blinking, there like a fucking idiot. 

That’s an easy job, right? 

-

“I’ve been thinking about-about us, and I just want to say that I’m sorry and that I…Fuck!” 

He was walking like a madman inside his apartment, on the verge of texting you about how Isaac chewed with his mouth open. You told him you hated people who chewed with their mouths open—loud and wet. He saw your favorite cereal on sale the other day. He almost wanted to ask you if you were aware that it was marked down. Should he get you a few boxes? What about three? He just wanted to know. Would you…would you come over if he let his kitchen burn? Would you come over if you saw the dead flowers that dried up because he couldn’t find it in himself to throw them away. It was the last piece of evidence that he wanted to go. Would you even accept his dead flowers now that your name was on every art forum? You probably like cereal and milk with fucking gold leaves and fig.

He knows that you didn’t like it when he looked sad but when he visited you, did you notice the way his shoulders slumped? Because he noticed the shallowness of your breathing, the taps on the floor, the pause before you opened the door for him. He noticed the way you blinked back the tears that he threatened to spill because he was cruel. He knew…he knew that he was cruel but would you still forgive him if he ran up to you now?

The cereal you like is marked down at the store. Do you want some? 

The vibration in your pocket stops you from talking to the guy who just offered to buy you your coffee. 

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. “Let me just…get this,” 

Your hands slightly trembled when you saw the message that Carmy just sent. It was an odd olive branch but what if you were looking into things again? What if he was just trying to have sex again? 

I’m sorry for the things that I said. 

Can we talk? 

“Hey, hey,” the guy says. You didn’t even know his name. “Are you alright?”

“Uh? Yeah, no-yeah, I am. Sorry,” you replied, locking your phone and putting it in the back pocket. “What was it?”

“Oh, I was wondering if-if you want coffee?”

“I…already ordered, though,” you replied. “Advanced order and I’m just waiting…”

The guy’s face falls, and you smile timidly. 

“Sorry,” you offered. 

“No, that's fine,” he shrugs. “I should’ve known or something,”

“No, thanks. Um, yeah…”

The barista calls for your name on the counter and you smile at him before leaving. You rushed out of the café without another word, coffee in your hand and Carmen’s message in your backpocket. 

The Read label was putting Carmen in a spiral. You read the message twelve fucking minutes ago, why weren’t you replying? He was popping the joints on his knuckles, watching the phone closely until you replied. 

what time do you close? 

can we go to your apartment instead?

He lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He texts you to just enter the apartment since you still have the keys, completely forgetting about the flowers near his stove.

-

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted with the bareness of it all, save for the dried flowers on the stove. You frowned, walking towards it. Carmy didn’t need flowers… Besides, this was a fire hazard. Was he okay?

You turned over the card attached and took a sharp breath. 

Let it rip. I’m so proud of you. 

Love, Carm

Was this deliberate? Did he plan this all out to get you to forgive him? You turned away, trying to forget the note that he was meant to give you. You sat on his couch instead, settling on the corner and flipping through the channels on his cable. You wanted something to fill the silence so that when he comes, you wouldn’t have to try to make up for it by saying something stupid like the weather in Chicago. 

You settled on some reality show, looking at the screen with your eyes glazed over when you heard someone mess with the lock. You looked over, watching Carmy in his grey sweater. He tossed the backpack to the side and his shoes were laying somewhere. You saw this scene before—multiple times but the undertone was different. 

“Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Um—“

“I hope you…you don’t mind me watching—“

Carmy’s eyes flicks to the stove and realization dawns on his face. 

“Fuck, fuck. Sorry—you, ah, weren’t supposed to…” he puts the flowers in the cupboard hastily, some leaves falling. “See that,”

“Yeah—“

“Um, I’ll just…”

“Yeah,”

He nods, blinking, before stalking to his bedroom. He locks the door behind him and heaves. Fuck. He shakes his head entering the bathroom to wash the day away. 

You couldn't focus anymore. Why was he so ashamed of the flowers he got you? You swallow the thickness down your throat. Were you intruding if you got yourself a glass of water? Carmy goes out of the bedroom a few minutes later, fresh and clean. He looks at you and heads to the kitchen. You don’t move.

He comes back with a glass of water for you, laying it down on the coffee table and then sitting beside you—as far as he could because he didn’t know where you stood right now. What boundaries can he cross?

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, taking a huge gulp of the cold water. “Um…”

“Shit—I don't know what to say,” he says, folding his hands on his lap.

“We can…we can start with what we said,” you replied slowly. “I…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Carm—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t take-I didn’t take your feelings into consideration and I…I hurt you,” he says, looking down. You were both sitting straight ahead, the TV illuminating your faces. It felt like a thick wall was between you two and that it was up to you to break it. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t keep on doing shitty things and then-then, feeling bad about myself but I…I spent my life trying to-to understand mom and Mi—key,” he chokes. “I guess I don’t want to understand anyone else anymore because I wouldn’t be able to but I—but you’re not anyone else.” 

“I fucked up,” he says. “When I was with Claire…I was locked in the fucking freezer because I had no cell reception. I don’t want that…but I don’t—“

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked. 

“I want to—I want…I,”

“I’m sorry for calling you miserable and unreliable,” you told him. “I was hurt and I’m sorry for uh, holding things over you. It’s not your fault that I caught feelings. It wasn’t fair to just…expect you to…love me, you know? Wasn’t fair,”

“No, I was a shitty friend. I shouldn’t have let you go like that,”

“Yeah,” you nod. You heard him shift in his seat, legs crossed over each other and facing you. You glanced and did the same. 

“I got you your cereal,” A small smile. 

“Yeah?” A beat.

“Like four boxes.” 

“I’ll be sick of them,” you teased.

“I know but maybe you’d hate that instead,” A confession. 

“I don’t hate you…” 

“You don’t?” he asked. “Why…I’m really sorry. I don’t want to…I’m really fucking sorry,”

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked, a brave hand on his knee. “Tell me what you want,”

“Please,”

“And we’ll make it work,”

“I want everything. But I…I don’t…It’s funny. A fridge started Claire and I’s relationship. A fridge ended it too. I’m sorry for bringing her up…but I never felt like I was deserving of…of happiness and I,” he blinks, eyes pinching at the bitterness of every word that rolled off his tongue. “Who the fuck said I could be in a relationship? I am the best because I was focused and I…I had cell reception and I didn’t have the bullshit of understanding feelings. I don’t need amusement or enjoyment…I…no amount of good was worth it, you know? I thought-thought that it was a complete waste of my fucking time but I crave for it,”

“And…I don’t know. I failed them and I…I don’t—“ he heaves. He has to let it all out if he wanted to make things right. “I’m scared that if I…jump in, you know? I fuck everything up again. My staff hates me, I hate me, and you…you hate me too. I don’t want to lose cell reception and I…I don’t need enjoyment but I need you. I need you with me all the time but what if you get—sick of me and push me away like Mikey did? What if…what if you learn to hate me? I need you and I don’t know if I can handle it if we—if we just stopped talking and I did. I stopped talking to you because it would have hurt me more if you decided to end things like that…I’m sorry,”

“I’m just…I fuck up everything that I touch, and I know that I’m miserable and I’m so fucking sorry that I hurt you. I’ll take that with me to the grave. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, a hand pressed on his chest, like he was protecting it. The barrier that you had to strike down. A gentle hand takes his, interlacing your fingers with his calloused ones. It makes him flinch, but he accepts the gesture. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you smiled and Carmy could just cry because it was the same thing that Claire had told him. What was the guarantee that it was different this time? “But Carmy, you have to understand that I…I don’t want to hurt you or-or distract you from being the best. I want you to be the best…”

“Is the best…enough?” he asks. “If I lose you?” 

“That’s a question you have to answer for yourself, Carm,” you offered. “I’m selfish. I can’t—I don’t want to be the reason why you learn to hate me just because I told you to choose me and I don’t want you to choose. I want you to…be the best and be—be…”

“I need you,”

“I know but I…” I want you to love me. 

“I touch everything and I burn everything…Richie and I…I feel so bad about the things I said to him and I fucking hate that I can’t control anything. My life is so fucked up and I—“ he stops, looking at you for the first time that night. “I just wish to just let the everything burn and then it will all go away but I need you to watch it burn with me,”

He still hasn’t said what you wanted to hear from him. He still hasn’t said anything. 

“I love you,”

You stop your breathing. 

“Carm—don’t say that just for the sake of saying it,” you begged, pulling him away from him and standing up. “Don’t say that if you don’t-don’t mean it…you're just being mean,”

“I do,”

“Carmy,” you whispered. “You didn’t love me months ago. What made you love me now?” you asked. “I’m not invalidating your feelings or-or whatever but I need you to understand that I’ve been loving you for months. I loved you after you broke up with Claire and we drank wine many months ago, but you didn’t…do you love me because you need me?”

“No!” he says. “I love you and I need you. I’ve been—harboring these feelings but I can’t…I can’t say anything and I’m so, so scared that if I don’t say anything now, then everything will just be a big fucking shit show and then, I’ll lose you forever. I’m so scared because what if we don’t work and-and you decide that I do make you miserable? What then?”

“What if we work out?” 

“That’s worse because then I’d know that I’ve been holding myself back for nothing,”

“I’m confused, Carm. What do you want?” you asked, shaking your head.

“You and I…together,” he replied. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to make you feel like-like I’m,”

“Can you say that again?”

“What?”

“What do you feel for me,” you begged. “I’ve been…I’ve been waiting months for you to tell me those words and I just have to make sure that I—that I’m hearing you correctly,”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats the same words over and over again and you feel your eyes brim with tears because this is what you wanted—this is what you’ve always wanted to hear. He stands up and walks over to you, covering his arms around your frame. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t,”

“Carmy…” you trailed off. “I’m sorry for the things that I said,”

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “But it’s okay…consider everything forgotten,” he kisses your temple and checks on you. “We’re okay, baby. We’re okay,”

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he says, ducking his head so his lips could meet yours. “I miss you,” he mumbles, cradling your head with his two hands. He kisses you fervently, like he was thirsty and you were the fountain of life. “Mm,”

“Carm…” you whine when he lets you go. You push him to the couch, his legs open wide as he watches you. “I want to show you how much I missed you,”

“Yeah?” he rasps, tapping his lap. “Come here, baby,”

You nod, watching his chest rise and fall in anticipation. You settle yourself on his lap, legs on either side. His hands immediately find your waist, clutching your body through the soft material of your shirt. You tug on his shirt to bring him closer to you, kissing him slowly. Your hands find themselves tugging on his hair, your hips rocking softly against his clothed crotch. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips meeting your subconsciously and you giggle at his anticipation. 

“Carm!” you chuckled, lips trailing down to his jaw. He likes that you never fail to leave love bites where everyone can see. He sighs deeply when you suck on the spot he liked so much. You could feel him harden under his joggers, itching for release. When you are done, you smile at him, pecking him on the lips before removing his shirt completely. He sucks in a breath when your soft hands run over his chest. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he rasps, tugging on your shirt. You oblige, removing the piece of clothing entirely. His mouth waters at the sight of your naked torso. You rub your heat against his cock, the both of you moaning because of the pleasurable friction. It was slow and deliberate at first but you were soon mewling, his mouth on yours. His tongue pushes past against your lips, swirling with one another. “Remove everything, please—“

You nod, standing in front of him to strip yourselves of what remained between the two of you. Carmy, runs his hand on your waist, looking up at you with need. You run your hands through his hair while you let him kiss every part of your body that he could kiss. You sigh at the contact of his warm lips against your body, settling yourself back on his lap but this time, with less restraint. His hand immediately finds your cunt, fingers working to flick your clit. You whimpered when you felt his fingers prod your entrance.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Fuck yourself with my hand,”

“Carm,” you whine, bouncing slightly. Your hand finds the tip of his cock and his hips jerks, at the contact. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, looking up at you with his eyes half-lidded. He removes his fingers inside you and sucks on them. “You always taste so sweet,”

You couldn’t choke out any reply. So instead, you put your hands on either of his shoulders, slowly sinking on his cock. 

“Fuuuuck,” he says, his head falling on the sofa. “Fuck,”

“Carmy,” you said, rolling your hips against his own slowly. “You’re so—“

“Good,” he says, watching his member disappear inside you completely. He could feel your wetness on his thighs, and it kills him. “I’m gonna make you mine,” he says, pinching your nipple.

“Carmy!”

“You like it?” he asked, his head inching closer. He flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud while you ride him. He bites on it and you flinch. He feels your walls clench around him when he does that, so he tries it on your other nipple. 

“Carm,” you whined, “Fuck—“

The moans that emitted from his mouth vibrated on your chest. He was continuously sucking and licking your nipple, pinching and twisting it with his rough hands while you gyrated against him. His cock fills you up differently and you let his hips thrust upwards, hitting a certain soot inside of you. 

He gives up the need to control, letting you part away from him. You stand up, repositioning yourself to finally—

“Fuck!” he groans, not expecting the sudden feeling of your tight, wet walls wrapping his girth. The tip was just teasing your wntrance a few second ago. His head falls back, arms wrapped around your waist while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck, fuck,”

“Carmy…” you moan. “Kiss me,”

He does what was told, capturing your lips with his. His tongue parts your already open mouth, his arms snaking around gour waist to keep you closer. You whimper, hands holding either side of his neck and you grip slightly.

“Mm,” he groans, breaking away from you. Your pace was speeding up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling his apartment. “Fuck,”

You smiled at him, constricting his airways a little tighter. 

“I’m so—fuck—oh,” he chokes out. His hips stutter against you, cock filling you up completely and he feels your walls clench around him. “close.”

“Baby, baby, baby…” he sighs, the pressure too much for him. “I’ll make you mine. I’ll make you mine,” 

“I love you,” you mewled, head falling when he plays with your sensitive buds again. “I want to be yours, Carm,”

He meets your wet pussy with his cock in sloppy thrusts. Your bodies were moving in motion, desperate for that release—that closeness after months of being away from each other. Carmy was holding you so close, grunting and groaning under you. 

“Fuck, I fucking love—oh,” his voice breaks and he comes undone. Your walls clench around his gushing member, thrusting inside to chase your high. Your movements slow down, his head on your shoulder. A beat passes with heavy breathing. He peeks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, removing yourself from him. “Are you?”

He nods, pushing your hair away from your face. 

“I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up. What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I think cereal’s good.”

-

A/N: First and foremost, I’d like to thank you guys for the overwhelming love and support that you showed in chapter one. Your comments and reblogs all motivated me to write chapter 2 the best that I can and I hope that you love this chapter as much as the previous one. As always, don’t forget to comment or reblog your thoughts! I’d love to know what you thought about this one.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt@morgthemagpie@hal3ynicol3@1800-queen-trash @ummvengers @thottywizard

TELL ME YOU NEED ME TAGLIST: @hanula18 @globetrotter28 @trashcanfullofdork @carmens-berzattos @se0kie @saturnheart @akila-twt @mashadanki @ayoedibiris-letterboxd @quicksilversg1rl @docmerlock @notalxx

[grapejuicestyless]

Stupid F-ing Tattoo

JJ Maybank x Fem!reader

Summery: Y/n and JJ both had a few things in common. One, love didn’t exist. And two, they both wanted her dead.

She wasn’t dead, but sometimes, he wished she was.

It was honestly fucked up, there was no silver lining. She hadn’t wronged him, or cheated, or lied. She was as guilty as a fish, and he was the shark. But he still wished she was dead.

Sometimes, JJ wondered if she wished the same thing. If some nights, if she ever were to by chance hear his laughter in a passing moment, maybe with his head hung out the back window of the Twinkie like she used to do, or in a lazy jog away from the cops, he wondered if she wished he would also, drop off the face of the earth to give her some peace.

Then he would remember that even though it didn’t feel like it, he had won. Because she had no peace, and he was certain she never would. While he was up all night wishing her to be gone, she was up all night praying for the same thing.

She often told him that the only things keeping her going were him and her dog, but mostly her dog. An old white dog, a stray she’d taken in when she was merely seven. He was as crusty as they get, and while he and his friends often joked about how gross the old thing was, she happily scratched behind his ears and reminded him of how good he was always.

But the dog was getting old, and JJ had long been extracted from her life. Sometimes he wondered if his prayers meant something, and then he would get on his knees and take them all back in a guilty sob. Because JJ didn’t want her to die, he just hated the fact that he had fallen in love with someone who couldn’t fathom love more than he ever doubted it.

JJ felt like an asshole. What kind of person prays for another persons death? Especially someone like her?

He figured he liked her so much because they were so alike. Like the seasons, they were the coolest winters and the sweltering summer all at once. They were so close, yet so far. Like January and December. Born with the same love and loyalty, but destined to fall apart, prophets forced to be divided.

His finger hovered over her contact every night, but every time he thought of how she would answer, and his tongue would go dry. She would probably only say hello, and he would say it back, and the line would go quiet for a few minutes, just breathing in each others inhales, aligning his breath to hers, and then she would ask him why he was calling. He would say he didn’t know, but he hoped she was well, and she would wish the same for him because she always did, and she always meant it more because she never wished that he was dead. Then, she would ask if it was okay to let him go, and he would ramble about something and how it was all dumb to begin with. She would listen and then the line would go dead. Dead like how he sometimes wanted her.

He couldn’t bear the idea of letting her go again, even if he didn’t realize he had the first time.

They had just gotten matching tattoos. “P4L” poked into their ankles until the skin swelled red and even air burned. They were fucked, and it was a dumb idea.

JJ said it was the stupidest fucking tattoo he’d ever gotten. She had laughed, playfully pushing his arm away and setting the needle down.

“You don’t have any other tattoos.” She reminded him softly, eyes shining in the moonlight. The twinkles reminded him of the north star, and he felt that he too found home in the same way.

“Not yet.” He promised her, his fingers slotting between hers. “I’m gonna get your name tattooed right across my palm so I can hold you eternity.” JJ smiled, proud at his use of larger words. He’d felt like a poet then, smiling from ear to ear at himself, a dork by textbook definition.

“Well, then I’m going to get your name tattooed on my lips, so I have every reason to talk about you.” She promised him, and JJ remembered the look in her eyes, he knew it from the way John B looked at Sarah and the way Pope’s dad looked at his mom. He knew it was love.

He should never have confessed it.

He knew better than anyone that her mothers neglect had beaten her heart black and blue, and her cousins hatred towards her and her friends who had bullied her, he knew that much like him, love was a construct of some sort of fantasy, a promise of forever that could never be fulfilled, because eventually, someone has to leave.

She laughed, and then she cried. She promised JJ that she also loved him, loved him like a dog loved its owner, unwavering and loyal. But there was no way in hell she could ever love him the ways he wanted, and that hurt JJ because he had spent weeks working up the courage to even come to terms with his very real feelings.

“I can’t love you, JJ. I do, but I can’t because I can’t even promise myself that forever. I’ll break my own heart and I’ll blame you.” She had explained with tears streaming down her face. He regretted the way he yelled at her.

They never spoke again. His best friend, and the love of his life, her voice became a concept in his mind, and he swore that he had forgotten the sweetness of her smell. He hated that because that meant he was just like everyone else. Just another person who would miss her when she went.

So, he started wishing death on her. More for himself, until it became a prayer for her. She never laughed anymore, never smiled. When he saw her from afar, he’d noticed that she’d gone back to her friends she hated because suffering is better than loneliness when all you can think about is the quickest way to go.

He saw a girl floating in the ocean the a few days into the summer, her hair resembled Y/n’s and her eyes did too. It was only when he saw the way she seemed to fold herself into the water he knew it was her because only she would have the drive to try and let the ocean swallow her whole.

JJ ran as fast as he could out, wading through the crashing waves until he could wrap his arms around her. She was wet, cold, and limp. A hollow version of the woman she once was. It reminded JJ that she was just a girl, the same age as him, and he once again, felt guilty for ever wishing death on her.

When he laid her in the sand, he knew two things.

One, on her skin, she had another small tattoo scribbled down to memorize her love forever. His name, just two little letters, the same one, poked into her shoulder in the same font as their matching tattoo.

“Stupid fucking tattoo.” He cried, gritting his teeth together, his hands searching her body for any warmth he could cling to, a sign that maybe he hadn’t seen her too late.

The second thing he knew, through his salty tears and guilty heart, was something he prayed he would never have to witness, but something he had always wished for.

His prayers had been answered.

[wiidvw]

National Anthem

LINKS FOR PALESTINE.

pairing. Victoria Neuman x Black ! Fem ! Reader

summary. Vice president Neuman, your girlfriend, is always busy, but among the chaos of her job, she somehow finds time in between for you.

content. Fluff. Smut—fingering, oral sex(r receiving). Written with a black!reader in mind, but anybody can read tbh.

𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗩𝗜𝗖𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗔𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 is fun. You often went to events with Victoria such as galas or rallies. But, once the excitement ran out, and she needed to focus on her vice president duties, it sucked. Victoria worked in her office day and night, which caused her to come home late. She came so late that you didn't see her until morning when she was getting prepared to leave. Sometimes, you were lucky to be able to have lunch with her—even if it was for thirty minutes.

     Following your normal routine, you washed your face, splashing your face with the cool water from the sink.

The rushing water was so loud you didn't hear the bedroom door open and creak close. You reached for a towel until your hands wrapped around the soft material and patted your face dry.

     You opened your eyes and stared at Victoria's reflection in your bedroom as she removed her jacket. “Babe?” You questioned, confirming if you were imagining things, or if she was there.

      “Yeah?” She answered back, glancing at you through the mirror.

     You slid the headband, which held back your hair, off your head and left it on the bathroom counter. “You're home early today,” you commented as you exited the bathroom. Victoria removed her makeup, dragging a makeup wipe across her face.

     She stepped into the bathroom. "Singer let me go home early. Thank God—I was thinking about popping my own head.”

You chuckled at her comment as you put your hair up. “Well, I'm happy you didn't do that because then,”—you walked toward the bathroom, wrapping your arms around Victoria's waist, and resting your chin on her shoulder—"you wouldn't be able to make up for all the times I've missed you.”

     You smiled, staring at her through the mirror until she turned her head, the corner of her lips curled upward. “I'd like that,” she kissed you gently, lips soft against yours.

     “You better hurry up before I fall asleep,” you walked out of the bathroom and laid down in bed, watching Victoria as she changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in.

     After a couple of minutes, she lay down beside you, your lips curling into a smile, you said, “Took you long enough.”

     Victoria rolled her eyes at your remark and kissed you. This time she kissed you more roughly, one of her hands resting on your cheek, the other planted on your thigh, fingers wrapping around the flesh. She slotted her thigh between yours, pressing against your clothed crotch. Her skin against your bought a warmth that you could get from a hot fire in the winter, making you melt against her as she swallowed all your noises.

     Her hand on your cheek trailed downward to the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding under your shirt until she reached your breast, pulling a groan from her when you leaned into her touch.

     She bit her lip when you started rocking your hips against her thigh. “You missed me that bad?”

You nodded, wrapped your arms around her neck. You could've been embarrassed, but you missed her and needed her so bad.

     “You gonna show me how bad you need me?” She asked, hand sliding upward to your hip. You nodded again, staring into her brown eyes. “Good girl.”

     Her words went straight to your core, making you want to please her more. You began to move your hips faster, trying to reach your climax sooner.

     “Need help, baby?” Victoria whispered into your ear, her grip on your hip tightening.

     “Please,” you begged, heat rushing to your face.

She buried her face in your neck, sucking and kissing at the flesh as she guided your hips. She grinned against your skin at your moaning and whimpering. She loved seeing you like this—mostly because it was for her and nobody else. But, she was getting impatient herself, and she needed you too.

     She planted her other hand on your hip, stopping your hips. “Vic—” you started, but she stopped you, smashing her lips on yours as she pushed you onto your back and climbed on top of you. Her hands fell to your shorts, pushing them down along with your panties.

     Her fingers brushed your aching clit, pulling a gasp from your lips. Victoria smiled against your lips before moving to the edge of the bed. She grabbed your thighs, placing them over her shoulders, and stared at you as she licked a strip up your dripping cunt, causing you to throw your head back, hands burying in her black hair.

     She wrapped her lips around your clit, sucking harshly as her fingers teased your entrance, making your hips buck. She rested a hand on your lower stomach keeping you still. She slid her middle and ring finger into your hole, setting a steady pace, thrusting her fingers into you. Her tongue circled your bundle of nerves, humming in satisfaction at your moans.

     You tugged at her as she helped you reach your climax. “Vic,” you cry, but she quickly quiets you.

     “Shh, baby, I know,” she reassured you, looking up at your face and how it contorted in pleasure. Her fingers quickened, curling them at certain times.

     All it took was a couple harsh sucks on your clit for you to fall over the edge. You squeezed Victoria's head with your thighs, tugging harshly at her hair. Victoria slid her fingers out and licked stripes up your cunt, drinking your juices.

     As you slowly came down from your high, you squirmed, overstimulation setting in. You pushed her head away, making her chuckle at your reaction. She pulled away and moved to lay beside you. She kissed you, and you could taste yourself on her tongue. When she pulled away, you couldn't help but stare into her brown eyes.

     “What about you?” You asked.

     She furrowed her eyebrows. “Hm? Oh, I can wait ‘til morning. Tonight was about you. Now, let's go to sleep, and then, you can worry about me in the morning.”

     You nodded and scooted closer to her, allowing Victoria to wrap her around you until you fell asleep first.

[yournightmary]

you should write something where reader is a primary teacher, and ellie is a volunteer/fill in music teacher :D they meet and romance happens or something (i’m bad with words 😀) <3

Play Date | E.W.

content warning:: fem!reader, I guess dealer!Ellie but not really?, bad writing

AN:: not proofread because i’d rather shoot myself than read my own writing. I’m so sorry if it’s bad but i’ve tried my best😔 also no idea hot to tittle things

Whoever told you that being a daycare volunteer is a good idea was wrong- on many, many levels may I add.

You always thought that kids were just cute tiny humans but that changed with your first day at the daycare in Jackson. Most of the kids were boys, there were maybe three girls total. And you never even took into consideration that fall just started, so did every kind of colds and sicknesses possible.

What’s worse than a snotty, nasty seven year old boy tugging on your shirt with his grimy hands? A whole room of them. You only took this job because Maria asked you to. She said something about you ‘wasting your potential by going on patrols’. And by potential she meant the fact that you can read, write and do basic math… sometimes.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

You pushed the door of the daycare building open, furrowing your brows softly at the scratchy sound they’d made. It was almost winter, thankfully. Maria said you wouldn’t have to work once the snow falls, something about patrols not going out as often in bad weather. You shrugged off your jacket, hanging it on the wooden coat rack.

Before you could do anything else you’ve heard a knock on the door, immediately rolling your eyes in annoyance. You took your sweet time getting to it, muttering profanities under your breath.

“Daycare isn’t open until 7:30, sorry.” You opened the door with a sigh, your tone as cold as the outside air.

“Uh- Maria asked me to help you? She said to come here after 6:00 but- I uh, overslept.” Your eyes widened slightly, seeing the girl before you.

Ellie Williams. What the actual fuck?

You stared at her in disbelief, finally noticing the guitar in her hands. She scratched her neck nervously, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.

“You gonna let me in?” You slapped yourself mentally, stepping away from the door. She walked in, muttering a quiet ‘thanks’.

Ellie placed her guitar against one of the many chairs, curiously looking around the daycare. She traced all of the drawings on the walls, wondering about the stories behind each of them.

“Why did Maria want you to help me?” You asked her after a while, sorting through all of the pencils and sharpening dull ones.

“That’s a funny story… I did something she didn’t like and this is my punishment, I guess- not that I don’t like you! I’m just… bad with kids.” Ellie stumbled over her words a little, looking everywhere but at you.

“Well, what did you do?” You raised your eyebrow, even if she wasn’t facing your way. You sighed softly before adding. “And don’t worry- this feels like a punishment to me too… and I volunteered.”

Ellie snickered before circling around some tables and sitting down next to you, grouping all the pencils by color and placing them in their assigned little boxes.

“She found out I was dealing.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, though you could hear the nervousness in her tone. “Weed, you know? Said ‘I’m corrupting Jackson’”

“Shit, you’ve been dealing?” You unintentionally raised your voice, turning your head to look at her with furrowed brows. She raised her head slowly, nodding with an anxious expression. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? I felt bad for nagging Dina and she didn’t want to tell where she gets it from.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped as she looked at you baffled, the pencil she was holding almost falling out of her hand.

“I didn’t know you smoked, sorry.” She muttered, not expecting the way you reacted.

“I don’t look the part, huh?” You looked down at your clothes, the white collar peeking out of your beige sweater and your brown pants cuffed nicely, even if it exposed your ankles to the cold winter air.

Ellie shook her head to the sides with a chuckle, taking the opportunity and looking you up and down. After a moment in awkward silence she spoke up, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

“So why don’t you go on patrols? I mean, you’re really smart and stuff. You could be useful.” The way she said it sounded almost like an invitation, raising her brows slightly while glancing at you.

“Well, Maria said that I’m too smart for patrols. That I’ll be more useful as a teacher.” You giggled, rolling your eyes at the memory.

“That’s a shame… There’s this spot on one of the routes, you can see whole Jackson from there.” Ellie frowned softly, smacking her lips in disappointment.

You hummed in agreement, understanding what she was getting at. Maybe once winter comes Maria will let you go on a patrol with Ellie, just maybe. You placed a few sheets of paper in front of her, handing her a black pen.

“You can draw, right? Make some coloring pages, I gotta clean up before the kids come.” You said with a smile while standing up from the little table you were sitting at, not waiting for her answer.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The kids came in earlier than usual, the room filling up an hour after you opened. After some discussing Ellie decided to take care of the arts&crafts corner, playing a song on her guitar whenever she got a request while you taught the older kids how to multiply. You couldn’t help but steal glances at Ellie, looking away quickly when her eyes meet yours.

“Miss, why are looking at Ellie like that? Do you like like her?” You hushed the girl with furrowed brows, your cheeks burning slightly.

“Keep your eyes on your paper, Maya.” You muttered, tapping your finger against the worksheet you prepared for her. Why were kids so nosy?

You glanced at Ellie only to find her already looking at you, rolling her eyes annoyed. You giggled quietly, nodding your head in agreement. You quickly made sure everyone understood their assignments and walked over to Ellie, a smile appearing on her lips once she noticed you.

“How’s it going? Any troublemakers?” You asked jokingly, looking suspiciously at every kid with a smirk. Almost every one of them shook their head, letting you know they were on their best behavior.

“They’re all good, don’t worry.” Ellie said with a smile, admiring the way you quietly praised the boy who showed you the drawing he made today.

“That’s good to hear.” You nodded your head, stepping away with Ellie to a more secluded place. “They’re usually so much worse, maybe you’re a good influence.”

“Tell that to Maria.” Ellie snickered, tucking her short hair behind her ears. She scrunched her nose, glancing at the kids a little disgusted. “One of them sneezed into his hand and then grabbed mine though, have you ever thought about teaching manners?”

“Thank you so much for that idea, I’ve never thought about that!” You said sarcastically, pointing your finger at her while nodding your head. “But seriously, I’ve tried. They just don’t care.”

You sighed in defeat, dropping your hands to your sides. Ellie hummed in acknowledgment, looking at the kids coloring the drawings she made for them earlier.

“You play beautifully, by the way.” You nodded your head awkwardly, the words leaving your mouth before you could even think about them.

Ellie blushed lightly, biting back a grin that was threading to spread across her lips. “Thanks” She muttered quietly, looking away from you sheepishly.

She opened her mouth to add something but was cut off by some kid calling your name, asking you to help them with something. You shot her an apologetic smile before getting back to your space, leaving her with a bunch of prepubescent boy that already had teasing smirks on their faces, ready to poke fun at Ellie.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

You waved goodbye to the last kid, their parent giving you a grateful smile. You closed the door with a sigh, turning around to face Ellie. She was ready to leave, guitar in one hand and the kids’ drawings she received in the other.

“Can I walk you home?” She asked quickly, looking at you with a hopeful expression. You nodded your head with a smile, putting on your jacket.

“So, how would you rate your first day here?” You locked up the daycare building, stuffing the keys into your pocket.

“Well… it wasn’t bad. I thought it would be much worse.” Ellie hummed, walking right beside you. You bumped your shoulder into hers, smirking softly.

“I gotta say- you being there made it a lot better than usual… and I’m not talking just about the help.” She looked away sheepishly, unable to stop her lips from curling into a smile.

You walked in comfortable silence, stealing sneaky glances at each other when the other one wasn’t looking. Your hand brushed up against Ellie’s, making her gasp softly.

“Wow, you’re freezing.” She grabbed both of your hands into hers, standing in place. She rubbed her palms against the back of your hands, trying to warm you up.

“Yeah, it’s really cold today.” You giggled nervously, your cheeks heating up at her touch. She kept her grasp on one of your hands, swinging them softly between you as you walked. Smooth.

After a few minutes you finally got to your house, a little bummed out that your little trip is over. You stood before your front door, looking at Ellie shift from one foot to the other. She sighed, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

“How about I pick you up tomorrow? We could walk together.” Ellie suggested, taking a deep breath between her words. She rocked on the balls of her feet slightly, waiting for your answer impatiently.

“Okay.” You nodded your head with a grin, your hand resting on the doorknob. Ellie’s shoulders relaxed almost immediately, her own lips curling into a smile.

“Alright, cool… does 6 sound good?” You hummed in agreement, your eyes locked onto Ellie’s.

You stood there for a moment, in awkward- but not negative- silence. Ellie tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, breaking the eye contact by looking around nervously. You took your chance, standing on your tip toes and pecking Ellie’s cheek. She froze up, her eyes widening. Fuck, did you read it wrong?

“I’m sorry- I dunno why I did that.” You started apologizing, waving your hands around. Ellie grabbed both of them, shaking her head to the sides.

“It’s okay! You surprised me, that’s all.” She tried to hold back her smile but failed miserably, her ears and cheeks turning beet red. “I’ll uh- I should head back.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You nodded your head, sighing in relief at Ellie’s words. You gave her one last smile before walking into your home, closing the door softly.

You really hope the snow won’t come soon.

I HATE THIS SO MUCH IM GONNA RIP MY HAIR OUT😭

[sophaeros]

arctic monkeys for q magazine, june 2011 (x) (x)

ARCTIC MONKEYS: Inside Alex Turner's Head

Words Sylvia Patterson Portrait John Wright

The day Arctic Monkeys moved into their six bedroom, Spanish-style villa in the Hollywood Hills, where the first-floor balcony looked over the patio swimming pool, they knew exactly what to do.

"From the balcony, you could get on t'roof and jump in't pool," chirps the Monkeys' most gregarious member, drummer Matt Helders, in his homely Yorkshire way. "We looked at it and said, That's definitely gonna happen. So by the end, we did a couple of 'em. Somersaults in t'pool, from the roof. At night time."

In January 2011, as Sheffield and the rest of Britain endured its bitterest winter in a century, Arctic Monkeys capered among the palm trees, eschewing hotels for a millionaire's Hollywood homestead as they recorded and mixed their fourth studio album, Suck It and See.

The four Monkeys, alongside producer James Ford and engineer James Brown, lived what they called the "American man thing": watched Super Bowl on giant TVs, played ping-pong, hired two Mustangs, cooked cartoon Tom And Jerry-sized steaks on barbecues on Sundays, had girlfriends over to visit, all cooking and drinking around the colossal outdoor kitchen area featuring a fridge and two dishwashers. Living atop the Hills, they could see the Pacific Ocean beyond by day, the infinite glittering lights of downtown LA by night.

Every day, en route to Sound City Studios, they'd travel in a seven-seater four-by-four through the mountains, via bohemian 60s enclave Laurel Canyon, blaring out the tunes: The Stones Roses, The Cramps, the Misfits' Hollywood Babylon. For the sometime teenage art-punk renegades whose guitarist, Jamie Cook, was once ejected from London's Met Bar for refusing to pay €22 for two beers, the comedy rock'n'roll life still feels, however, absolutely nothing like reality.

NICK O'MALLEY: "It were really as if we were on holiday. When we came back it's the most post-holiday blues I've ever had!"

JAMIE COOK: "It's hard to comment on that. It were just really good fun."

MATT HELDERS: "We always said, As soon as things like that feel normal, we're in trouble. But it's just funny. You might think it would get more and more serious as you get older but it's getting funnier. We've done four albums now and I'm still only 24, I'm still immature to an extent. So who cares?"

Alex? Al? Are you there?

ALEX TURNER: "Yeah, it were good times. But we were in the studio most of the time. So there's no real wild Hollywood stories. Hmn. Yeah."

Wednesday, 16 March 2011, Strongroom Bar, Shoreditch, East London, 11am. Alex Turner, 25, slips entirely alone into an empty art-crowd brasserie looking like an indie girl's indie dream boy: mop-top bouffant hair which coils, in curlicues, directly into his cheekbones, army-green waist-length jacket, baggy-arsed skinny jeans, black cord zip-up cardigan, simple gold chain, supermoon sized chocolate-brown eyes.

Almost six years after I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor became the indie-punk anthem of a generation (from the first of Arctic Monkeys' three Number 1 albums), and nothing prepares you for the curious phenomenon of Alex Turner "in conversation". Unlike so many of the Monkeys frenetic early songs, he operates in slow motion, seemingly underwater, carrying a protective shell on his back, perhaps indie rock's very own diamond-backed terrapin. The most celebrated young wordsmith in rock'n roll today talks fulsomely, in fact, only in shapeless, curling sentences punctuated with "maybe... hmn.. yeah", an anecdotal wilderness sketching pictures as vague as a cloud. He is, though, simultaneously adorable: amenable, gentle, graceful, and as Northern as a 70s grandpa who literally greets you with "ey oop?".

"People think I'm a miserable bastard," he notes, cheerfully, "but it's just the way me face falls." Still profoundly private, if not as hermetically sealed as a vacuum-packed length of Frankfurter, his fante-shy reticence extends not only to his personal life (his four-year relationship with It-girl/TV presenter Alexa Chung, whom he never mentions) but to insider details generally. Take the Monkeys’ Hollywood high jinks documented above: not one word of it was described by Turner. Before Q was informed by his other Monkey bandmates, Turner’s anecdotal aversion unfolded like this:

Describe the lovely villa you were in. AT: "Well... we certainly had a... good view."

Of what? AT: "Well, we were up quite high."

The downtown LA lights going on forever? AT: "I dunno. It was definitely that thing of getting a bit of sort of sunshine. Is it vitamin D? If you can get vitamin D on your record, you've got a bit of a head start. So we'd get up and drive to the studio."

What were you driving? AT: "Nothing... spectacular. But yeah, we'd drive up the studio, spend all day there and sort of, y know, get back. To be honest... we had limited time. So we spent as much time as possible kind of getting into it, like, in the studio.

So your favourite adventures were what? AT: "Well, they were really… minimal. We were working out there!"

Any nightclubs or anything, perhaps? AT: "You really want the goss 'ere, don't you?"

Yes, please. AT: "I could make some up. Nah!"

And this was on the second time of asking. It's perhaps obvious: Alex Turner, one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation (four Monkeys albums and two EPs in five years, The Last Shadow Puppets side-project, a bewitching acoustic soundtrack for his actor/video director friend Richard Ayoade's feature-length debut Submarine), is dedicated only to the cause – of being the best he can possibly be. He simply remembers the songs much more than the somersaults.

Throughout 2009, Arctic Monkeys toured third album Humbug – the record mostly made in the Californian desert with Queens Of The Stone Age man-monolith Josh Homme – across the planet. While hardly some cranium-blistering opus, its heavier sonic meanderings considerably slowed the Arctic Monkeys' live sets and on 23 August 2009, Q watched them headline the Lowlands Festival, Holland and witnessed a hitherto unthinkable sight – swathes of perplexed Monkeys fans trudging away from the stage. With the sludge rock mood matching their cascading dude-rock hair it seemed obvious: they'd smoked way too much outrageously strong weed in the desert.

"Heheheh, yeah," responds Turner, unperturbed. "That's your theory. You probably weren't alone."

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Turner's arm is now nonchalantly draped along the back of a beaten-up brown leather sofa. He ponders his band's somewhat contrary reputation…

"I think starting the headline set at Reading with a cover of a Nick Cave tune perhaps was a bit contrary. D'youknowhat Imean?! But to be honest, that summer, at those festivals, we had a great time. And I know some fans enjoyed those sets 10 times more. And you can't just do, y’know, another Mardy Bum or whatever. Because how could you, really?"

With Humbug, notes Turner, "I went into corners I hadn't before, because I needed to see what were there," but by spring 2010 he wanted their fourth album to be "more song-based" and less lyrically "removed". He was "organised this time", studied "the good songwriters" (from Nick Cave, The Byrds and Leonard Cohen to country colossi Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline), discovered "the other three strings" on his guitar, and wrote 12 songs through the spring and summer of 2010, mostly in the fourth-floor New York flat he shared with Chung before the couple moved back to London late last summer (the New York MTV show It's On With Alexa Chung was cancelled after two seasons). The result: major-key melodies, harmonised singing and classic song structures.

At the same time he revisited the opposite extreme: bands such as Black Sabbath and The Stooges ("we wanted a few wig-outs as well"); he was also still heavily influenced by the oil-thick grinder rock of Josh Homme, who is clearly now a permanent Monkeys hero. After four months' rehearsals in London, on 8 January the Monkeys relocated to LA for five swift weeks of production and Homme came to visit, singing backing vocals on All My Own Stunts. Tequila was involved.

"Tequila is probably me favourite," manages Turner, by way of an anecdote. "But it takes a certain climate... It's not the same... in the rain. Yeah. [Looks to be contemplating a lyric] Tequila in the rain."

Vocally, he developed the caramel richness first unveiled on The Last Shadow Puppets' Scott Walker-esque The Age Of The Understatement, finding a crooner's vibrato. "Everything before was so tight,” he notes, clutching his neck. "Probably just through nerves. That's just not there any more." Suck It and See contains at least four of the most glittering, sing-along, world-class pop songs (and obvious singles) of Arctic Monkeys' career: the towering, clanging She's Thunderstorms, the summertime stunner The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala, the heavenly harmonised title track and the Echo & The Bunnymen-esque jangly pop of closer That's Where You're Wrong.

Elsewhere, in typically contrary "fashion", there's preposterous head-banger bedlam (Brick By Brick, the rollicking faux-heavy rock download they released in March "just for fun", featuring vocals by Helders; Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair, and Library Pictures). News arrives that the first single proper will be Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair. Q is perplexed. Brilliantly titled, certainly, but arriving after Brick By Brick, the new album will appear to the planet as some comedy pastiche metal album for 12-year-old boys.

You've got all these colossal, summery, indie-pop classics and you've gone for... The Chair? AT: [Laughing uproariously] "The Chair! I'm now calling it The Chair, that's cool. Well for once it weren't even our suggestion. It was Laurence's (Bell, Domino label boss). And I were, Fucking too right! He's awesome. It'd be good to get a bit of fucking rock'n'roll out there, won't it? It's riffs. It's loud. It's funny."

If you don't release The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala as a single I'm going round Domino to kick Laurence's "awesome" butt. AT: "I think it'll be the next one!"

The record's title, meanwhile, could've been more enigmatically original than the un-loved phrase Suck It and See. The band, struggling with ideas due to the opposing sonic moods, invented an inspiration-conjuring ruse: to think of new names for effects pedals in the style of Tom Wolfe, Turner being long enamoured with the American author's legendarily psychedelic books The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, "cos that just sounds awesome".

"There's the Big Muff pedal," he elaborates, "That’s the classic. I've got the Valve Slapper. And there's the Tube Screamer. So we came up with the Thunder Suckle Fuzz Canyon. And… wait till I assemble it in me mind… em… it'll come to me… The Blonde-O-Sonic Shimmer Trap. So we were going for summat like that."

A wasted opportunity?

"Nah. Because some of those things ended up in the lyrics anyway. Suck It and See was just easier."

Alex Turner, rock'n'roll's premier descriptive art-poet, still writes his lyrics long-hand in spiral-bound notebooks. "Writing lyrics is a craft that I've practised a bit now," he avers. "In me notebook it looks like sums. Theories. There's words and arrows going everywhere. There's always a few possibilities and I write the word 'OR' in a square."

For our most celebrated colloquial sketch-writer of the everyday observation (all betting pencils, boy slags and ice-cream van aggravations) the more successful he becomes, the less he orbits the ordinary. "I'm not struggling with that, to be honest," he decides. "In fact I'm enjoying writing lyrics much more than I did. Stories. Describing a picture. Um. There's quite a bit of weather and time in this one. Which is probably not reassuring. 'Oh God, he's writing about the weather.' Maybe leave that out!"

There are also some direct, funny, romantic observations: "That's not a skirt, girl, that's a sawn-off shotgun/And I only hope you've got it aimed at me..." (from the title track).

Some of your romantic quips, now, must be about Alexa. AT: "Right. Yeah. Definitely. Well... there's always been that side to our songs, when we weren't writing about... the fucking taxi rank. It's kind of inevitably... people you're with." [At the mention of Chung's name, Turner is visibly aggrieved, head sliding into his neck, terrapin-esque indeed.]

It must have been very grounding being in a proper relationship through all this madness. Because if you weren't, girls would be jumping all over your head. AT: "Em. Hmn. Well, of course that helps you to... I don't really know.. what the other way would be."

Does Alexa wonder if the lyrics are about her? AT: "Oh there's none of that. Yeah, no, there's no looking over the shoulder."

She must be curious, at least. "Maybe."

Did you ever watch Popworld? AT: [Nervous laughter] "Em! Now and again."

Did you ever see the episode where she helps Paul McCartney write a song about shoes? AT: "Ah, yeah I think so, maybe I did see that."

Well, if I was you, I'd have been thinking, "She's the one for me." AT: "Well. Yeah... maybe that would've... sealed the deal! Hmn. But maybe that wasn't when i got the ray of light. When was? Nah [buries head in hands]. I might have to go for a cigarette..."

Q can't torture him any more and joins him for a snout. Turner smokes Camels from a crumpled, sad, soft-pack and resembles a teenager again. As early song You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me says, "Never tenser/Could all go a bit Frank Spencer…”

In January 2006, when Arctic Monkeys' Number 1 album Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not became the fastest-selling debut in UK history, inadvertently redefining the concept of autonomy and further imploding the decimated music industry (& wasn't their idea to be "the MySpace band", it was their fans': the Monkeys merely kick-started viral marketing by giving away demos at gigs), the 19- and 20-year-old Monkeys were terrible at fame. They weren't so much insurrectionary teenage upstarts as teenage innocents culturally traumatised by the peak-era fame democracy.

To their generation (born in the mid-'80s) fame was now synonymous with some-twat-off-the-telly a world of foaming tabloid hysteria where renown and celebrity meant, in fact, you were talentless. Hence their interview diffidence and receiving awards via videos dressed up as the Wizard OfOz and the Village People. Which only, ironically, made them even more celebrated and famous. (“That were a product of us just trying to hold onto the reins," thinks Turner today. "Being uncooperative.")

Q meets The Other Three one morning at 11am, in the well-appointed, empty bar of the Bethnal Green, Bast London hotel they're staying in (all three live in Sheffield, with their girlfriends, in their own homes). First to arrive is the industrious, sensible and cheerful Helders, crunching into a hangover-curing green apple. He has recovered from last year's boxing accident at the gym, which left his broken arm requiring a fitted plate. Now impressively purple-scarred, the break felt "interesting" and the doctor couldn't resist the one-armed drummer jest: "D'you like Def Leppard?"

Currently enjoying an enduring bromance with Diddy, he still doesn't feel famous, "it just doesn't feel that real, there's no paparazzi waiting for me to trip up." He and Turner, during the four-month rehearsals last year, became an accomplished roast dinner cooking duo for the band. "I reckon we could have us our own cookbook," he beams. "Pictures of us stirring, with a whisk."

O'Malley, an agreeable, twinkly-eyed 25-year-old with a strikingly deep voice and a winningly huge smile, is still coyly embarrassed by the interview process. A replacement for the departed original bass player Andy Nicholson in May 2006, he went from Asda shelf-filler to Glastonbury headliner in 13 months and still finds the Monkeys "a massive adventure". His life in Sheffield is profoundly normal – he's delighted that his new home since last October has an open-hearth fireplace: "Me parents had electric bars." He has also discovered cooking. “I’m just a pretty shit-hot housewife, most of the time," he smiles. "I cook stews, fish combinations, curries, chillies. I made a beef pho noodle soup the other day, Vietnamese, I surprised meself, had some mates round for that."

Recently, at his dad's 50th birthday bash, the party band, made up of family and friends, insisted he join them onstage "for ...The Dancefloor. So I were up there [mimes playing bass, all sheepish] and it were the wrong pitch, they didn't know the words or 'owt, going, Makin eyes... er..." He has no extra-curricular musical ambitions. "I'm happy just playing bass," he smiles. "I've never had the skill of doing songs meself. It'd be shit!"

Cook, 25, is still spectacularly embarrassed by the interview process. He perches upright, with a fixed nervous smile, newly shorn of the beard and ponytail he sported in LA: "Rockin' a pone, yeah, because I could get away with it." With his classic preppy haircut and dapper green military coat (from London's swish department store, Liberty), he looks like a handsome '40s film star. (Turner deems Cook "the band heartbreaker" and had a word with him post-LA: "I said to him, Come on, mate, you've got to get that beard shaved off. Get the girls back into us. Shift some posters.")

His life in Sheffield is also profoundly normal. He still plays Sunday League football with his local pub team, The Pack Horse FC (position, left back), remains in his long-term relationship with page-three-model-turned-make-up-artist Katie Downes and "potters about" at home, refusing to describe said home, "cos I'll get burgled".

A tiler by trade, he always vowed, should the Monkeys sign a deal, that he'd throw his trowel in a Sheffield river on his last day of work. "I never did fling me trowel," he confirms. "Probably still in me shed." He's never considered what his band represents to his generation. "I'd go insane thinking about it, I'm pretty good at not thinking about it… Oh God. I'm terrible at this!"

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Alex Turner is cloudily describing his everyday life. "I just keep meself to meself," he confounds. He mostly stays indoors and his perfect night in with Alexa is "watching loads of Sopranos. And doing roast dinners".

No longer spindle-limbed, he attends a gym and has handsomely well-defined arms – "You have to look after yourself."

Suddenly, Crying Lightning from Humbug rumbles over the bar stereo. "Wow. How about that? I was quite happy the other morning cos Brick By Brick were on the round-up goals on Soccer AM. It's still exciting when that happens. It was like Brick By Brick is real."

He spends his days writing music, "listening to records", and recommends Blues Run The Game by doomed '60s minstrel Jackson C Frank ("who's that lass?... Laura Marling, she did a cover recently), a simple, acoustic, deep and regretful stunner about missing someone on the road.

Lyrically, he cites as an example of greatness the Nick Cave B-side Little Empty Boat [from ‘97 single Into My Arms ], a comically sinister paean to a sexual power struggle: "Your knowledge is impressive and your argument is good/But I am the resurrection babe and you're standing on my foot."

"I need a hobby," he suddenly decides. "I'd like to learn another language." Since his mum is a German teacher (his dad teaches music), surely he can speak some German? "I know how to ask somebody if they've had fun at Christmas." Go on, then. "Nah!"

Where Turner's creative gifts stem from remains a contemporary rock'n'roll mystery; he became a fledgling songwriter at 16, after the gift of a guitar at Christmas from his parents. An only child, did his folks, perhaps, foresee artistic greatness? "I doubt it!" he balks. "Cos I didn't. I wasn't... a show kid." Like the others, he doesn't analyse the past, or the future.

"You can't constantly be thinking about what's happened," he reasons, "it's just about getting on with it." The elaborate pinky ring he now constantly wears, however, a silver, gold and ruby metal-goth corker featuring the words DEATH RAMPS is a permanent reminder of he and his best friends’ past. The Death Ramps is not only a Monkeys pseudonym and B-side to Teddy Picker, but a place they used to ride their bikes in Sheffield as kids.

"Up in the woods near where we lived," he nods. "Just little hills. But when you're eight years old they're death ramps." The ring was custom made by a friend of his, who runs top-end rock'n'roll jewellery emporium The Great Frog near London's Carnaby Street. Ask Turner why he thinks the chase between his writing and speaking eloquence is quite so mesmerisingly vast and he attempts a theory.

"Well, writing isn't the same as speaking," he muses. "Not for me. I seem to struggle more and more with... conversation. Talking onstage... I can't do it any more. Hmn. I'll have to work on that."

The ever-helpful Helders has a better theory.

"Since he's been writing songs," he ponders, “It seems like he’s always thinking about that. So even when he’s talking to you now, he’s thinking about the next thing that rhymes with a word. Even when he’s driving. We joke he’s a bad driver, his focus is never 100 per cent on what he’s doing. Which is good for us cos it means he’s got another 12 songs up his sleeve. I think music must be the easiest way for him to be concise and get everything out. Otherwise his head would explode.”

The Shoreditch.com photo studios, 18 March. Alex Turner, today, is more ethereally distracted than ever, transfixed by the studio iPod, playing Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, a version of I’d Rather Go Blind. Occasionally, he’ll completely lose his conversational thread, “Um. I’ve dropped a stitch.”

The first to arrive for Q’s photoshoot, he greets his incoming bandmates with enormous hugs (and also hugs them goodbye). Today, Q feels it’s pointless poking its pickaxe of serious enquiry further into Turner’s vacuum-packed soul and wonders if he’ll play, instead, a daft game. It’s called Popworld Questions, as first posed by someone he knows rather well.

“Oh, OK. Let’s do it,” he blinks, now perched in an empty dressing room. He then vigorously shakes his head, “Um…I’ve gotta snap back into it.”

Here, then, are some genuine “Alexa Chung on Popworld” questions (2006-2007), as originally posed to Matt Willis, Amy Winehouse, Robbie Williams, Pussycat Dolls, Kaiser Chiefs and Diddy.

Why do indie bands wear such tight jeans? AT: “Um. I supposed they do. They haven’t always. When we first were playing I was definitely in flares. You need to be quite tall to get the full effect, though. So, that's why this indie band wears such tight jeans, cos we've not got the legs for flares."

What makes you tick in the sexy department? AT: "Wow. Pass. What do I find most attractive in a woman? Something in the head? That's definitely a requirement. Well... Hmn. I'm struggling."

Tell us about all the lovely groupies. AT: "No!"

If dogs had human hands instead of paws, would you consider trying to teach them to play the piano? AT: "Absolutely. I'd teach Hey Jude."

How many plums d'you think you can comfortably fit in one hand? AT: "They're not very big. [Holds small, pale, girly hand up for inspection] It's a shame. Probably three. Diddy only managed two? Maybe not then. I can carry a lot of glasses at once, though. If they're small ones I can do four."

Are you cool? AT: "Not as much as I'd like to be. There's this clip where Clint Eastwood is on a talkshow and he gets asked, Everybody thinks of you as defining cool, what d'you think about that? And he gets his cigs out, takes one out, flicks it into his mouth, lights it and says, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Here, Turner locates his Camels soft-pack and attempts to do a Clint Eastwood. He flicks one upwards towards his mouth. And misses. Flicks another. And misses. "Third time lucky?" He misses. "I'll get it the next time." And succeeds. "Hey. Fourth time. Don't put that in! So there you go. I'm four steps away from where I wanna be."

Thank you very much for joining me here on Popworld, here's my clammy hand again. There it is, let it slip, hmmn. You can let go now. AT: "OK! Were you a Popworld fan, then? It was funny. Cool. What were we talking about, before?"

Blimey, Alex. What must you be like when you're completely stoned out of your head? AT: "Stoned? What d'you mean, cos I seem like that anyway? Yeah. A lot of people... tell me I'm a bit... dreamy. But I like the idea of that. Of being somewhere else."

Two days earlier, Turner had contemplated what he wanted from all this, in the end. Many seconds later he gave his deceptively ambitious answer.

"I just wanna write better songs," he decided. "And better lyrics. I just definitely wanna be good at it. Hmn. Yeah.”

—

RUFUS BLACK: AKA Matt Helders, on his ongoing bromance with Diddy

Matt Helders has known preposterous rap titan Diddy since they met in Miami in 2008. “He goes, Arctic Monkeys! Then he said summat about a B-side and I was like, He's not lying! I just thought, This is funny, I'm gonna go with this for a while." Last October Diddy texted Helders, suggesting he play drums with his Diddy Dirty Money band on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross, to give his own drummer a day off. “I were bowling with me girifriend at the time. In Sheffield, on a Sunday." On the day of recording, says Helder, "We had a musical director. That were one of the maddest times of my life. Next day Diddy said, Why don't you just stay? Come along with me. So I went everywhere with him." Diddy had "a convoy of cars" and made sure Helders was always in his. "He'd stop his car and go, Where's Matt? You're coming with me! So I'd get in his car. Just me, him, his security, driver." Diddy, by now, had given him a pseudonym - Rufus Black. "He kept saying, I don't wanna fuck up your image. And I'm, I don't think it's gonna do me any harm!" He stayed in Diddy's spectacularly expensive hotel. Some weeks later, Helders almost returned to the Dirty Money drumstool for a gig in Glasgow. "But we were rehearsing in London. I were like, I might come, how are you getting there? And he were like, Jet. Jump on t’jet with me. But I had to stay in Bethnal Green instead.”

Love’s young dream: Diddy (left) with Helders

[f10werfae]

Sugar Plum Princess

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Short!Shy!Wife

summary: Y/n feels a little under the weather after a snow day so Henry gives his sweet shy wife a taste of his special “medicine” (Major Dom Henry)

Disclaimer: Story is completely fictional and may contain inappropriate content

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Lumberjack Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Henry Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Bunny, what were ya doin’ out there? Shoulda be in here gettin’ warm with me” Henry grumbled helping his precious little wife strip out of her white winter suit, her giggles filling his ears every time he’d lightly spank her ass and jiggle it in his warm hands. “M’sorry never seen snow so thick before! Look, Look!” She squealed excitedly showing him the cute selfies she had taken with her snowman she’d named ‘Hen Bear’ after him.

“Don’t ya jus look adorable sweet pea? Gonna send these to me alright?” He smirked seeing how irresistible she looked, the fact that she was all his and his alone made his cock twitch. Y/n on the other hand had butterflies zooming in her stomach, feeling one of her husbands hands fondling her ass while the other was busy typing on her new phone.

“Really pretty?” She twinkled twirling on her toes, her hands holding onto his blue t-shirt, standing on her toes to nuzzle into his neck; the scruff of his beard scratching her ever so gently. “The prettiest baby” He cooed cupping the back of her head, throwing her phone onto the armchair at the corner of their bedroom. “Now come on, get into bed before ya get a cold sweetpea” Clad in only a flimsy thong and a bra, Y/n found herself being smothered by cuddles and kisses once Henry had tucked them both into the mess of blankets; not that she was complaining she absolutely loved cuddles.

- - -

“Now what did I say about yesterday bunbun?” Henry asked setting down a cup of apple juice by the bed, Y/n’s tired eyes looking up at him lovingly as his fingers brushed over her face. “N-not to go out, but but, the snow s’pretty and I hadta” Y/n mumbled nuzzling herself into the comforters, causing Henry’s heart to crack itself open a tiny bit, his sugar babe was sick and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Earlier on in the wee hours of the morning Y/n had broken into a fever, one which Henry spotted when he turned her over to face him. At the start of their relationship Y/n had always asked that if she turned away from Henry while asleep, he was to turn her around and make sure he was cuddling her, or else as she said “I’ll be really angry and won’t talk to you ever again!” Which was a complete lie because when that did happen, Henry had acted cold as if he didn’t care, ultimately breaking sweet Y/n’s heart; leading him to snatch her up in his arms to show her how much he loved her in their beloved bedroom. “My sweet little wife, ya know you’re all mine right? No one else can have ya but me”

After helping her to take a sip of apple juice, Henry went to his side of the bed and was about to slip in. “Nuh-uh mister, y-you can get sick n’ I don’t wan’ you sick” Y/n squealed cornering herself to the edge of the bed, her legs kicking at Henry to keep him away from her. “No fucking kicking me honey” He grumbled grabbing onto each of her ankles, making her whimper and cower at his massive build. Using his sheer strength he dragged her to him, revealing her naked body, which felt hot to the touch; making Henry wince.

“B-but you’re gonna feel icky if ya come near me H-Hen”

“I don’t give a fuck sugar, you’re my little sugar plum n’ if I wanna cuddle on ya then I will. Do you not want me anymore?” Henry taunted, using his manipulative tone, seeing his bunbun’s mouth fall open and head shake rapidly from

side to side before she let out a loud sob. “O-ow” She whimpered holding onto her head due to the migraines, Henry scoffed before bending down and cradling her head to his chest, “S’okay baby, sometimes your brain is all foggy cause ya too precious, and ya need your husband to clear it”

His hands reached down and felt her hot wet juices start to leak out of her, her second set of lips warm and slick for him. “w-what are you doing b-bear? M’still feelin’ icky” She whined, her arms around his shoulders, her glossy eyes peering into his as his lips softly rubbed themselves against hers; to a point where she had taken initiative and let her tongue run over his lips to coax his out.

“Thought you still felt icky baby?” Henry pulled away, chuckling when he felt her legs lock around his waist to keep him closer, soft whines leaving her as she wiggled in his grasp. “S-stop teasing and bein’ a meanie Hen! W-want you to make the fogginess go away” She whimpered, her cheeks hot to touch along with the rest of her body.

“Course honey, I know jus’ how to make it go away, jus’ let daddy have some of his sweet treat, s’that okay bunbun?” He whispered nudging his nose against hers cutely, his heart clenching when she wrinkled her nose and nodded giddily. “Y-ya promise it’ll work?”

She asked worried, “Have I ever lied to ya sugar?”

“N-no”

Not that she knew anyway.

“S’okay baby, c’mere” Henry grunted, both of them were on their sides facing each other, his hand lifting her leg up whilst his cock slipped through her pussy lips, coating itself in all her goodness. “I-is it bad? Am-am I gonna havta see a doctor?” She asked nervously in between not so subtle moans, her hole was practically clenching around nothing.

“After a’ treat your pussy baby, you won’t need a doctor, promise” Henry smirked fitting his cock into her wet warm fuckhole, her hands around his torso, while his groped and massaged her ass like the rough lumberjack he was. “Let me taste those lips baby, stick that tongue out for me too bunny” His open mouth clamping on top of hers, his spit mixing in with her between their lips as she sucked on his tongue.

Pulling their lips apart, her lips were still wrapped around his tongue, sucking on it as if it was her favourite strawberry sucker, her eyes as wide as saucers as she looked up at him as if he was the most amazing thing in the world. “Do ya want some of my medicine baby, promise it’ll make all the ickiness go away” “Mhm wan’ it all da- Hen” She said wide eyed nodding her head,

“Open wide wifey, n’ swallow” He said bringing one hand to cup her jaw, her mouth forming a circle as he spat into his lewdly, feeling his lover’s hole clench at the nickname he called her. After all these months she still found herself getting giddy snd excited anytime he’d call her his wife, “m’ your wife n’ you’re my husband” She’d say at least once a day, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

Swallowing his saliva readily, Y/n’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head as Henry’s thrusts were deeper and slower, the nestle of curls on his cock itching her clit to a point of rawness, his balls slapping her like it was his hand. “Good girl, gon’ make ya all better honey, promise” He moaned feeling her lips all over his neck, her tongue lazily drawing over it letting it shine with her spit.

“L-love you s-so much, f-feels fuzzy n’ warm” Y/n hiccuped, her own fingers reaching down to hold her lips wider open, letting Henry’s thumb press down directly onto her swollen nub, “Oh- fuck” She gasped while his thumb rubbed rougher circles on her precious sensitive button, “language sugar” He snarked spitting onto her bouncing breasts, licking them up as his thrusts didn’t let down once.

“Fuck baby your tits are so pretty, your nipples beggin’ to be sucked on” He mocked laughing slightly, his lips surrounding a hardened bud while she pressed her tits smothering his face, letting him motorboat her soft pillows; fuck was he in love with his gorgeous wife, n’ he couldn’t help but feel proud at how easy it was for him to get her.

“Imagine these fleshy tits full of milk, all swollen and ready” His mouth greedily moved between each breast, her voice whining and whimpering at each of his filthy words. “N-nothin but my little hole, always so needy and wantin’ attention, but it’s okay baby, i’ll give ya everything ya need” He groaned looking straight back at her, his shaft nearly giving in with each clench and push, her tongue laying out with her eyes rolling back; her lips mumbling incoherent words , “Wan’ it so bad” “m’just your hole b-bear” “W-would you t-take

my milk too, n-not just my hole?” She screamed finally creaming around his shaft, her legs kicking involuntarily while her orgasm rocked through her body. His lips raining kisses all over her face and her lips, her tongue dominating over his lazily as she seemed desperate to taste him.

“I’d take your milk just like this sugar” He moaned gently pulling out, finding the strength to straddle and hover over her torso, his thick paws pushing her tits together dirtily as his length laid in the valley between them. Y/n’s hair was splayed over the pillows majestically, her face dazed and smiley as her tongue gave kitty licks to the head of his shaft, sweat visibly dripping down her face. “W-what else?” She asked.

“I’d fuck your tits everyday bun, treat it like a second pussy, your milk squirting all over me n’ you; letting me taste your sweet treasure that ya made” His balls suddenly felt heavier, his breaths deepening each time he’d thrust and his shaft would go straight into his wife’s mouth. Her breasts surrounding him like a blanket, causing more of his “medicine” to spurt onto her gorgeous face.

“y-yummy” She whispered picking some up with her finger and licking it lewdly, Henry’s lips smashing onto hers affectionately, not caring that he was tasting himself as he licked her face clean and spat it onto her waiting tongue. “W-will I still need the doctor?”

“No honey, you’ll be alright, m’sure of it” He whispered kissing her forehead, feeling her temperature, thankfully their activities had caused her fever to break; all thanks to him. “Y-you love me right?” She asked out of the blue, her fingers twiddling with his beard shyly,

“What sorta question is that? course I do”

“W-well earlier ya didn’t say it back!” She whimpered kissing his chest softly, all over the bite marks she left. “M’sorry sugar plum, swear just forgot, your pussy is jus’ too good” He smirked causing her to giggle and hit his chest, his fingers rubbing over her stomach gently, taking the extra bit of skin in his hands and bending down to kiss and love on it. “I love you so so much” He whispered against her stomach, the part he knew she was most insecure about, but if anything he just saw it as more of her to love. His sugar plum princess.

———

Library blog @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist

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[weasleykisses]

You’re So Pretty II (Remus Lupin x Reader)

(GIF not mine)

A/N: friends to lovers, fem!reader, jealous!remus, remus loves you but he’s so terribly scared of a relationship, Hogsmeade bookstore dates

Warning: very short (like three sentences) mention of sexual thoughts.

Word count: 4.1k

________

Y/N smiled as the snow sizzled under her feet. Her and Remus walked side by side behind the rest of the gang, heading over to Hogsmeade Saturday afternoon to get a well deserved break from classes and studying.

She hid her face behind her thick scarf, her gloved hands buried deep in her winter coat pockets, protecting herself from the chilly breeze. She wanted to reach over and hold his hand, to feel the warmth from his skin against her. She didn’t try though, too afraid to be so forward with him.

“Lily said she’d be at Honeydukes today so I’m probably going to hang around there until I run into her,” James told everyone. Y/N rolled her eyes. Even when they were out as friends, he was still falling head over heels for that girl. Lily was one of her best friends, sometimes it just got annoying hearing her friend talk about her constantly all day.

“Oh, I thought we were gonna go to the Three Broomsticks?” Y/N asked, tilting her head a bit to the side with a frown etched on her lips.

James shook his head, waving off to his friends. “Maybe I’ll catch you guys later, yeah?” He walked in the opposite direction of the little restaurant they were headed to. She just shook her head. Typical of that loverboy to leave. She was grateful that Remus never had anyone else to go to, any other girls he wanted to follow around. She was used to Sirius and James doing so, not so much Peter though. He was always quite unpopular with the ladies.

The Three Broomsticks was quite loud, as you would expect on a busy Saturday with all the Hogwarts kids coming to hang out and get drinks. Y/N decided on a hot butterbeer and salty chips, finding herself awfully hungry from the walk over to the little village.

She was tucked into the booth, closest to the inner wall with Remus to her right and Sirius and Peter across the table facing them. Her thigh, only covered by thin black tights under her short corduroy skirt pressed to Remus’ corduroy slacks, and a chill ran down her spine at the thought of being so close. He didn’t seem to mind that their thighs touched, and his arm rested against hers. Nor did he notice the way he could turn his head and be mere centimeters away from kissing her, if he wanted.

Y/N wanted to be kissed. Whether it be in front of the boys or in private, she wished every night before she went to sleep that the dirty blond would kiss her silly. That he would cradle her cheeks in the palms of his hands, tilting her head up to meet his. That he would press his soft lips to hers and run far away with her heart. She wanted to drown in him, if he would just let her.

But she refrained. She kept her eyes trained forward on Sirius, listening as he went on about some problem he had in transfigurations with Professor McGonagall.

Remus couldn’t help but wish she would stop looking at Sirius like that, like he was the most interesting person in the world. He wanted her to look at him that way. Instead she always shied away, ducking her head or looking off beyond his shoulder. Did she hate looking at him? Was he that unattractive? Thoughts rushed through his mind, he barely noticed Sirius was talking at all.

He was conscious of her leg pressed to his, practically sitting in his lap at this point. His eyes ran quickly over the hem of her skirt which rode up a bit when she slid down the booth. What would her thighs feel like in his hands, or pressed to the sides of his head. If it was anything like the mere feeling of her pressed to him in the booth, he might as well explode.

Remus, honest to Merlin, didn’t want to think about her in that way. He really didn’t. It was inappropriate and wrong. Still, her face flashed through his mind, what it would look like if he was hovering over her, and the sounds she would make as he eased in and out of her. He was filthy, a pervert. He knew that. He just couldn’t brush the thoughts from his mind.

It didn’t matter what he thought anyway. Y/N wanted to fuck his best mate, Sirius. He had no chance.

He reached over and took one of her chips, hoping it would distract him as she laughed quietly at a joke Sirius told. He chuckled too, but only to seem like he was paying attention.

“Rem, what do you think?” she asked, and he had to snap back into the conversation quickly.

“Think about what?” He cringed. So much for pretending he was listening before.

“About spending the holiday at the Potters’? Guess you were daydreaming again?” she replied, poking him in the shoulder jokingly.

If only you knew, love.

He shrugged. “Sure. They know how to throw a good party. Is James okay with it?”

“Yep. Not to mention Sirius lives there too so it’s kinda his house as well,” she laughed. “It’ll be like a week-long sleepover.”

The thought definitely interested him. Spending nearly a week with her in the same house. It would give them time away from school to chill out without the looming threat of homework over their shoulders. He knew how worried she got about her classes, considering she never did too well in them.

Just as she was about to say something else, a flustered James rushed through the doors and up to the booth. “Sirius, Pete, you gotta come with me. I need back up.”

“Back up for what?”

“Lily, obviously. She’s here with Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary. I need you two to distract the other girls while I sweep my darling Lily off her feet,” he said, a bit rushed. It was obvious he was under some sort of time crunch. Maybe they were getting ready to leave Honeydukes already.

Y/N quirked a brow. “What about Remus and I?”

“Figured you wouldn’t want to spend your day following me around.”

“And you assumed I would?” Sirius piped up, although he was already sliding out of the booth to do as his friend asked.

“You nerds can go to the bookstore or something. Or Brood and Peck?” James suggested. He peered out the window across the table and spotted Marlene and Lily walking into Honeydukes, that familiar wash of red hair flowing behind her. “Gotta go, sweetheart.”

“See you later, angel, moony” Sirius winked, and with that they were off. Remus tensed at her nickname, as he usually did. It wasn’t abnormal for Sirius to flirt with her, to call her endearing names and send suggestive looks in her direction. He saw the way her eyes pleaded with him to stay, to not leave her behind with plain ol’ Remus.

She waved goodbye to the boys walking out the door before turning to stare down at the plate in front of her. “Sooo, what do you want to do for the rest of the day?” she asked, feeling a bit awkward now that they were completely alone again. She liked hanging out with the boy, it was just hard to maintain her cool when they were alone. She liked when Sirius was around to relieve some of the tension she felt around Remus. “The bookstore is a good choice, or maybe the botanical shop? Whatever you want to do is fine.”

He took a sip from his warm cup of butterbeer and sighed. If only he had the guts to consider this a date. There were dozens of times in which they hung out around Hogsmeade, just the two of them, enjoying the other’s company the best they could. She was willing to go to any of the stores around, she wasn’t very picky. It always felt like they were dating, but he never addressed it. It made him anxious, the thought of confronting her about their friendship.

He chose to ignore it. If anyone brought it up, he just brushed them off like they were wrong and being silly. It was the only way he could cope with his hidden feelings.

“Let’s go to the bookstore. I’ve been meaning to find more Shakespeare. Maybe you’ve got some recommendations,” he told her, knowing that her eyes would light up at the mention of the muggle playwright. He smiled when he noticed the familiar sparkle in her eyes, peering over the rim of his mug.

She clapped her hands together. “Perfect! I have a lot of recommendations, not just Shakespeare either. There are so many classics you might enjoy, if we can find them.” Thankfully the bookstore in Hogsmeade carried quite a few muggle books along with the traditional magical novels written by wizards. “Let me just finish my chips and drink so we can go,” she said, taking another bite of a now room-temperature potato.

She went on to talk about her classes as he sat, his cheek in his palm, watching her silently. He observed the way she perked up at certain topics, and frowned when they moved onto something she disliked. When she found herself drifting off to a discussion about her grades, especially those in Transfigurations and DADA, she grimaced. They were never very easy for her, and he knew that better than anyone as her tutor.

When she was finally finished with her food, she pushed away her empty glass and straightened up in the seat. She pulled a couple coins from her jacket pocket and left them to sit on the table to pay for her snacks, plus his butterbeer which he had been sipping on slowly for the past half-hour or so. He could have listened to her talk for longer, finding it relaxing to hear her voice so at ease, but they had more things to do than just sit around the tavern.

She wrapped herself up in her scarf and hat, buttoning up her jacket to the top notch, knowing it was going to be chilly when she stepped outside. The hearth warmed the little restaurant perfectly, she almost forgot it was winter outside and the snow was piling on the pathways.

As they walked through the crowds, heading to the bookstore, he kept his hand hovering just above the small of her back, careful to touch her gently and not break any boundaries. He wanted to keep her close so as to not lose her in the crowd of students walking by. She didn’t seem to mind the touch either, trekking ahead through the snow.

They entered the bookstore and a little chime rang out above them from the copper bell hanging. She waved to the store owner before heading up the tiny staircase to her favorite second. Muggle Studies and Famous Works.

“So, Remus, what were you thinking of this time? Something funny? Romantic? Tense?”

“Just pick out something you’d think I’d like. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it either way,” he told her, his fingers sliding down the spines of the old hardcovers, reading the titles under his breath. She nodded and started her search for the perfect novel to give her best friend to read. He was an avid reader so she was sure he would like mostly anything she suggested.

She grabbed a Shakespeare comedy, followed by a couple other classics such as A Portrait of Dorian Gray, which always reminded her of Sirius a bit, and Pride and Prejudice which reminded her quite a bit of some of the romances she had seen occur at Hogwarts. She climbed down from the ladder she stood on to reach the books and handed the pile off to her friend, who was still just wandering aimlessly around the second floor of the store.

“Find some good ones?” he asked.

She nodded, handing him the three books. “These should last you a while. I picked a couple different genres in case you didn’t like one of them you could move onto the next,” she told him. He peered down at the covers and nodded. If she suggested them, she didn’t have to worry about him not liking them. He would read anything she suggested and enjoy it, because those books made her happy and in turn, that kept him engrossed as he flipped the pages.

He paid for the books, since she paid for his drink earlier. They were ready to head to another shop, only to pause the second she opened the door to the outside. Quickly, she shut the door with a yelp. “Godric, did it drop ten degrees in the time we’ve been in here? I’m going to freeze to death out there,” she exclaimed. In reality, the wind had picked up and whipped at anyone daring to go outside with icy air.

She shivered, rubbing up and down her arms with her mittens to try and warm herself up a bit.

“Do you want my sweater?” Remus offered, already shrugging off his thick winter coat so he could lift his pullover jumper over his head. He didn’t really think to wait for her reply, automatically ready to give up one of his layers for her.

“Remus, really, you don’t need to do that-” Y/N tried to stop him, but he was already out of his brown tweed jumper before she could do anything about it. She took off her winter coat and slipped on the added layer over her thin sweater. It was warm from him wearing it so close to his body, and it smelled just like him. She felt like she was enveloped in a big hug, and it was wonderful.

“Fits perfectly,” he joked, seeing as the sleeves were a bit too long and the hem went down to mid thigh. It obviously wasn’t made for her, but instead incredibly tall, lanky boys.

They both put their jackets back on, and she adjusted her hat and scarf once again. “Thank you, Rem.”

“No problem. I tend to run hot anyway,” he replied, carrying the books he had just bought under his arm, using his free hand to push open the door and enter the harsh winter streets. When he wasn’t looking, she dipped her head down and pressed the hem of his sleeve to her face, taking in the smell, hypnotized by that reminder of him lingering on his clothes.

He smelled like parchment and ink, like dark chocolate and mint; it was hypnotizing. She had read plenty of books in which the boy gives his jacket to the girl, sparking a bit of romance between the two. She didn’t think Remus meant anything by the kind gesture, however. She was nearly confident that Sirius or James would do the same for her, absent romantic intent. Remus was just so kind and thoughtful. Surely that was the reason he gave her his sweater.

“Did you want to stop anywhere else?”

“Do you want to go pick up those seeds I need from the botanical shop?” she asked. “Professor Sprout said I could grow them for extra credit, and I’m not doing too well in that class right now.”

Remus nodded, turning on his heel to head in the direction of the seed shop, with a chipper girl following closely behind him.

________

He never asked for his sweater back, not even when the group of friends reconvened in the common room after their outing, and she stood in plain sight with his sweater hanging loose from her shoulders. Instead, she sat on the couch beside Sirius, his arm on the couch behind her, his fingers just barely grazing her shoulder. He never meant anything by it really, she and Sirius just had a close friendship. Sirius knew she would never fall in love with him, not like some of the other girls they hung out with. Y/N knew that he just liked to hook up, and he wasn’t about to pull any moves on her. Not when he knew about the crush she had on his best friend, Remus.

Remus didn’t know that though. He only saw his crush, his girl, wrapped up so closely to Sirius at any given opportunity, and he hated it. He hated that Sirius was so confident in himself that he would flirt with anyone. He hated that the other boy was so attractive and charming that all the girls fell for him at some point or another.

He couldn’t stand the jealousy he felt. It made him depressed, sad any time he saw them together. At first, he had only been angry with the situation, but over time he found himself falling apart, unable to fight it any longer. He was just hopeless and lonely.

Y/N glanced over at Remus standing behind the armchair Lily sat in, his arms crossed over his chest with his forearms on display, having rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt.

She was brave. She was in Gryffindor, for fuck’s sake. She could talk to the boy she liked.

The girl stood from her place on the couch, waving to Sirius and Marlene as she did so, walking over to where Remus stood. He eyed her down, his cheeks flushing red at the sight of her bare shoulder hanging out of his jumper. “Y/N?”

“Rem, do you have any chocolate by chance? I’ve got a sweet tooth coming on,” she asked, knowing that he always had some of the sweet treats in stock somewhere on his person or in his room. It was his cure for nearly every ailment imaginable.

He nodded. “In my dorm, yeah. You want some?”

“If you don’t mind,” Y/N hummed, nudging her head in the direction of the four boys’ dorm room just up the stairs. “Let’s go.” She extended her arm, her hand held open for him to take, which he did even if her touch caused a shiver to run down his spine. It was times like this, where she was affectionate with him, that he really felt nervous. Nervous that he would make a mistake.

He felt his hand starting to clam up and he cringed. He didn’t want her holding his warm and sweaty hand. Fortunately, the walk up the stairs to the room was brief and she dropped his hand the second she walked through the doorway. Happily, she walked over to his bed and jumped on it, pressing her face into his pillows with a sigh. She cuddled into the sweater wrapped around her, inhaling the scent of her wolfish friend swallowing her up.

“So, you’re feeling chocolate?” He asked, walking over to his bedside table and opening a drawer. He pulled a couple bars from the drawer, one of them filled with caramel, a treat he knew she liked quite a bit. He tossed it over to her, landing on the bed beside her head.

“Thank you!” She chirped happily, unwrapping the candy bar and taking a bite, smiling as she munched. He took a seat on the bed and leaned against his headboard, sitting up as he broke off a piece of a dark chocolate bar for himself. She rolled onto her side and faced him, propped up on her elbow. “Today was quite fun, don’t you think?”

“Definitely. I’m excited to read the books you recommended.”

“Yeah,” she yawned, “it’ll be fun to discuss when you’re done.”

They laid there for a while talking about books and the next day’s events, including a quidditch match their friends were going to be competing in. He loved just talking to her. No one else entertained him the way she did, with those bright eyes and her round cheeks filled with happiness. No one understood his love of poetic justice in literature as well as she did. He never wanted their conversations to end really, even if they always came to a close one way or another.

After a while, she found herself growing more and more tired, covering her mouth with her hand as she yawned more deeply than before, eyes grown heavy by now. He’d sunk down to lay beside her, their heads sharing a single fluffy pillow. His eyes were trailed up to the canopy above the bed while she watched his profile, every little move of his lips as he spoke and the way his eyes flickered when something caught his gaze.

He felt anxious when she pressed herself into his side, sighing at the warmth coming off his body in waves. He wasn’t opposed to her being so close; he enjoyed it, actually. He just felt sick to his stomach knowing that this wasn’t forever. That she would get up soon to venture back to her own room, leaving him cold and alone on his bed, hanging onto his moment until he was graced with the next one.

“You’re so warm, Remus,” she mumbled in her sleepy haze.

Her voice sent shivers down his spine. “I think you’re just cold.”

“Maybe,” she hummed.

It was only a matter of time before she stopped replying to him about whatever they were talking about and her breaths became soft and slow, signaling that she had fallen asleep in his bed. It wasn’t the first time, but usually he was sitting in Peter or James’ bed and not lying right beside her. Her arm was wrapped loosely around his, the other curled up against her chest.

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, only to be met with the same quiet breaths.

He wanted to lay beside her. He wanted to let her cuddle him all night long as she slept, and wake up beside him in the morning. He wanted to be met with her bright smile when he opened his eyes the next day. God, he wanted to stay the way they were, just like this.

Only, he couldn’t do it. He was afraid. She didn’t deserve to be tied down to him. She was so wonderful and beautiful and kind. She was everything he loved, and he was a monster. He could hurt her if she got any further involved with him and his problems.

He lifted her arm gently, making sure not to wake her up as he rolled off his side of the twin sized mattress. He lifted his heavy quilt to cover her body, making sure she wouldn’t freeze in her sleep when he left her. He didn’t want her to wake up now and explain why he was going to leave her all alone. He certainly wasn’t going to wake her up and kick her out to her own room either.

He would find somewhere else to sleep for the night. Make up a lie in the morning about how he got up and went to the common room, fell asleep by accident on the couch.

He left the room that night with a grimace, regret pooling in his heart at the thought of leaving her behind. He waved to his friends who still hung out in the common room, but their numbers were beginning to dwindle. Marlene and Dorcas had gone to bed and Lily was about to go back to her dorm as well.

He fell asleep that night on the couch and woke up to the sound of early risers getting ready for breakfast. Meanwhile, Y/N woke up in a room that was not hers in a bed that was emptier than she remembered. James snored loudly to her right while Peter’s snores came out more of a light whistling. Sirius sat by his mirror, running a comb through his hair.

“Where’s Remus?” She asked.

“Slept on the couch downstairs.”

All she could do was sigh, a small “oh” leaving her lips. Sirius sent her a sympathetic look, as if he understood how she was feeling. She just fell back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling, wondering why her friend was so persistent on this constant space between them even when they seemed to be growing so close. He was a confusing guy, clearly conflicted with emotions running through that she didn’t understand.

Still, it broke her heart to wake up alone, cold under the blanket he’d left for her, surrounded by friends. So many friends, just not the one she wanted to be there.

Part Three out.

[wooahaes]

freshly fallen

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship au. dad!jeonghan au.

word count: 0.9k~

warnings: food mentions. reader is a step-parent.

daisy's notes: i have a soft spot for this au tbh ill admit it

“Wake up! It’s snowing!” 

The last thing you expected was to feel the full weight of Ha-eun leaping onto you and Jeonghan at seven in the morning. It jolted you out of your sweet dreams, and you could hear Jeonghan stifling his yawn as he woke up, too. Ha-eun had busied herself with shaking Jeonghan’s arm, trying to wake her father up faster while you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Jeonghan warned you once that Ha-eun loved the snow back when you moved in months ago, and again when it started being a real possibility for the weather. She peeked over at you for a moment, satisfied with the fact she’d managed to wake you up easily, and turned back to Jeonghan.

“Wake up!” She said more forcefully. “We’re gonna miss the snow!” 

Jeonghan turned over to face the two of you. “It’s not going to melt for a while.”

Ha-eun just whined at him again, shaking him as she called to him. “I wanna play!” 

In a snap movement, Jeonghan scooped her up into his arms, settling back into bed as he shut his eyes. “Five more minutes,” he said, her head tucked underneath his chin as he pretended to go back to sleep.

Jeonghan was good at fooling people sometimes, but not you. Not when it came to Ha-eun. He never could hide that playful smile completely—it was the reason why he always tried to face away from her when he was teasing. 

“Noooo!” She whined again, trying to wiggle her way out of his arms. She called to you instead, reaching one arm out to try and latch onto you. “He’s crushing me!”

You knew as well as Jeonghan did that he wasn’t holding her that tight. You liked to blame it on the fact she was a Yoon, through and through, and assumed you’d rescue her if she played up the dramatics. This was still the child who once told you that you were going to die while she was giving you a “check-up” with the toy doctor’s kit that Jeonghan bought her for her birthday. She’d cried to Jeonghan over the fact she thought you were going to die despite it being her own diagnosis of your healthy heartbeat in her own game of make-believe that you were playing along with. 

God, you loved this little family you became a part of. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and you’d all seen your fair share of bad days, but it was mornings like these that made it all worth it. You remembered when Jeonghan took your hands during your third date and told you he had a daughter.

“Her mom isn’t in the picture anymore,” was all he had told you at the time, “so it’s just me and Ha-eun. I like you a lot, but if I have to choose between you and her, I’ll always choose Ha-eun.”

(Frankly, that was all you needed to hear to know that you were starting to fall hard for Jeonghan. You wouldn’t want to make him choose between the two of you, but you were thankful he wouldn’t ruin someone else’s entire life just to be with you.)

Jeonghan popped up soon enough, already peppering kisses all over Ha-eun’s face. “It’s cold out,” he said at one point when he pulled back, giggling. “You’ll have to get dressed in your winter clothes if you want to play… after breakfast.”

Ha-eun gasped, and immediately turned to you. “I’ll help!” She scrambled out of Jeonghan’s arms and across the bed, already pulling at your hand. “I can help!” 

It nearly earned a laugh out of you. You admired her drive. Jeonghan always told Ha-eun that she could do anything she wanted if she put her mind to it. Of course, that sometimes ended with her convincing Uncle Cheollie or Uncle Shua  to give her extra dessert when he was babysitting, but you had to respect her hussle. You slipped into your house slippers, letting Ha-eun guide you toward the kitchen. Jeonghan lagged behind, leaning against the open doorway as he watched Ha-eun carefully wash her hands. He met your gaze as you pulled out the eggs from the fridge, and softly smiled.

Ha-eun looked up. “Papa! You help too!”

Jeonghan chuckled, making his way into the kitchen. “I was planning on it.” 

You hid a smile as you pulled down a bowl, setting it in front of Ha-eun. “Were you?”

Ha-eun gave her dad a suspicious look. “Were you?” She parroted, mustering up the same disbelief you held in your voice.

It only earned another laugh from Jeonghan as he leaned down to peck her cheek. “You’re turning her against me,” he said when he leaned in to kiss you, soft and sweet and short. He rested a hand between your shoulder blades. “I was admiring my two favorite people,” he teased.

You passed an egg to Ha-eun, who began to carefully crack it the way you had taught her to. “And yet you’re still not helping…”

Before Ha-eun could call him out, Jeonghan pressed another kiss against your cheek before making his way over to the fridge. “I’m helping,” he said, “just give a moment…”

You couldn’t hold it against him. Not when you turned away from cooking the eggs later to see Jeonghan carefully helping Ha-eun chop veggies, voice as soft as ever as he held his hand over her own to help guide the knife. You had to admire your two favorite people, too, sometimes. 

… Even if it meant Jeonghan would tease you for nearly burning the eggs later.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buddie Hiatus Fic Rec - month 9 Jan 16 - Feb 15

0-5k

might as well be drunk in love by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Teen | 2.3k Getting little-spooned by his drunk best friend was not on buck's maid-of-honour checklist, but. it's happening

She Said She’d Do It Again by Pansys_goth_gf / @pansysgothgf General | 2.8k Ana Flores runs into the 118 four years after her break up with Eddie. It turns out, a lot can change in four years.

hot cocoa by evcndiaz / @evcndiaz Teen | 3.1k Buck is freaking out about proposing. He gets an assist from Athena, Bobby, and. Well. Eddie himself.

our secret moments in a crowded room by heartbeatdiaz / @loserdiaz Explicit | 3.7k In which a new probie at the station has a crush on Buck, Eddie is… a little bit done with the guy, if he’s being honest. And Buck is having the time of his life.

like a cat in the rain by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 4.6k Sometimes, Buck forgets the lightning strike happened to Eddie, too.

things you shouldn’t say to me by coldbam / @coldbam Mature | 4.7k Eddie comes out, sleeps around, and Buck hears all about it.

5k-10k

finally found what i’ve been looking for by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Explicit | 5k buck's good at basketball, eddie's trying really hard not to commit an act of public indecency about it, and maybe, just maybe, a slightly bloody beachside pick-up game can be the start of something new

i am just a fool, but i have loved you all along by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 5.1k Buck asks Eddie on a date. Eddie spirals and makes a list about it. Everything works out in the end.

how to say what you mean by brownbananas (nickel710) Gen | 8.1k In which Eddie becomes a little obsessed with equipment maintenance and has a crisis of sexuality, and the two things are more related than he thought.

gonna make love to you for the rest of our lives by wikiangela / @wikiangela Explicit | 8.7k It's Buck and Eddie's wedding night, they're horny, in love, and obsessed with being husbands.

10k-20k

that green light, i want it by asteriasera / @asteriasera Mature | 11.1k Buck and Eddie hook up after Maddie and Chim’s wedding, then spend an inordinate amount of time not talking about what it means until the universe decides to intervene.

it's gravity after all by Iover_of_mine (I_almost_do) / @lover-of-mine Teen | 11.7k Buck and Eddie get trapped in an elevator. What else can they do besides talk to each other?

and we are homeward bound by glorious_spoon / @glorious-spoon Explicit | 18.1k Buck and Eddie get around to telling the people they love that they're together.

Winter Prayer by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars General | 18.2k When a work conflict prevents Athena from accompanying Bobby to Minnesota for the ten year anniversary of his family dying, Buck and May offer to go instead. Over the course of the trip, they all learn more about each other, and Bobby faces his grief.

20k - 30k

let you set the pace by devirnis / @devirnis Explicit | 23.9k Eddie fucks Buck over a weekend.

30k +

A Minor Delay by rainbow_nerds / @rainbow-nerdss Mature | 43.6k Almost a year after the bridge collapse, a lot has changed. The team are scattered—Bobby and Athena on their Honeymoon, Hen on adoptive parent's leave, and Buck and Eddie... They may still work together, still have movie nights with Chris whenever they can, but things have changed. With Maddie and Chimney's wedding around the corner, Buck tries to make it perfect. And maybe, along the way, he might figure out why everything still feels... wrong.

The Cupid in Bel Air and His Thousand Kisses by Moonrose001 / @liptickyourway Explicit | 53.8k Eddie knew that when he and Christopher moved to LA, there would be a lot more deities than he was used to. What he did not expect was a Cupid that had it out for him, determined for Eddie to fall in love despite Eddie's repeated refusals, denials and threats. But Eddie needs a partner in the field and it seems like the winged weasel is the closest he is getting.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15) Month 4 (August 16 - September 15) Month 5 (September 16 - October 15) Month 6 (October 16 - November 15) Month 7 (November 16 - December 15) Month 8 (December 16 - January 15)

[andrevasims]

Here's the text that can appear in pop-ups when a sim watches the weather channel:

— Summer: —————————————————————

• When it's a really hot Summer day, sometimes I think about cold things, and my mind tricks my body into thinking it's cooler than it really is. Except one time I thought about too much ice cream and it made my stomach hurt.

• Sorry, but I can't help you today. I'm out at the pool.

• Why do they call us Meteorologists? I have never predicted a meteor in my whole life! They're scary. If you see one, let me know and I'll tell people. I'm on TV, you know.

• I'm having a bad day. Just go outside if you want to know about the weather. Stop bothering me.

• I've wanted to be a weather man my entire life. Sure other kids thought I was weird playing with my barometer during recess but I knew I was meant to affect people's lives.

• Weather prediction is a serious science. I have a college degree in it. At least I think it was a college. It was all done on the Internet, but I got a shiny certificate in the mail!

— Fall: —————————————————————

• My advice for today? If it rains, wear a jacket.

• I used to like playing in leaf piles. But not as much anymore. They're itchy.

• You know when people say things like "It's raining cats and dogs out there!" Well, that doesn't happen. Trust me. I've checked.

• Oh, what's the big deal? It's hot, it's cold, it's raining, it's snowing. Who cares? It still doesn't change the fact that my job is basically to look out the window. You know how depressing that is?

• I was struck by lightning once. It didn't feel so good. I put a lightning rod on my roof after that and it hasn't happened since.

• I just love playing in a great big pile of leafs. Burning them is fun too. Except when you accidentally set someone on fire. Poor grandma. Her eyebrows never grew back.

— Winter: —————————————————————

• It's Winter. Wear a sweater. Does that help?

• Sorry. Couldn't make it into work today. It's too cold out there!

• When I was a kid, I made up my own superhero. I was "The Boy Weather - Master of the Forecasters!" My mom made me a cape and a mask, and I ran around my house shouting things like "Chance of Showers: 50 percent!". I fought off evil tornadoes and powerful hurricanes with my powers of prediction. I didn't have many friends.

• I had the worst Nightmare last night. I dreamed I was being chased by a penguin and he wanted to hit me with a fish.

• Did you know Penguins can't fly? They also have a natural resistance to polar bear attacks.

• I always wanted a pet penguin but my mother said that I was too young. I asked her again yesterday, but she said that I should let it slide.

— Spring: —————————————————————

• Can you help me out with something I've always wondered about? If you're in the pool, and it starts raining, do you get more wet?

• It's allergy season out there. The pollen count is off the charts! I'm sneezing just thinking about it!

• I have the greatest job in the world. I can be completely wrong nearly all the time and never get fired. When I make a mistake, I can just shake my head and say, "What are ya gonna do? It's the weather!" How sweet is that?

• Don't look to me for all the answers! The knowledge you seek is just a small step out your front door.

• We've been hearing reports of lightning striking tall trees in the neighborhood, so be careful out there!

• Hello. You have reached the Weather Station. We're not in right now, but if you leave a message after the beep…

[thegoldenappleofdiscord]

hit me with your best will solace hcs please, i can take it

will solace headcanons or something

gonna be real honest i forgot half of my headcanons and i'll probably remember them the minute i post this but:

healing and hymns: i don't think the healing process in chb is specified beyond "ambrosia and nectar," but i think a combination of powerful voice (stentorian) + correct hymn + natural talent = higher chances of healing success; i don't think will has a voice that's very pleasant to listen to. i think he can carry a tune, sure, but he isn't someone you want to listen to for extended periods of time. the thing i think makes him such a good healer is his strong voice - he's able to keep singing at a steady pace with consistency. he can heal his siblings of small bruises and paper cuts through a single song, but you won't catch him leading a campfire. [i thought way too long about how hymns work in the infirmary for my fic jdsjgfdg]

texan will: i've seen a lot of headcanons revolving around texan will that have always been a little odd to me, seeing as i'm texan and half of these hcs are just blatant stereotypes lmao. i think i even once saw someone say that because he's from the south he can't be a vegetarian, which is pretty absurd (coming as someone who fasts.) honestly the only one for this i can think of is that he uses "ya'll" constantly. also occasionally indulges in fried food, because fried chicken slaps (none of that fried oreo/snickers bs. miss me with that will would NOT go near that stuff.)

assorted appearance headcanons:

he has freckles all over him! apparently he doesn't have them canonically and we all just. collectively decided that he did, and i love that.

likes pockets. anything with pockets. also, flip flops, crocs, basically any open-toed shoes. sometimes he'll just go barefoot, because why not. i also think he wears a lot of bracelets - things made by his younger siblings (some alive, some not.) they're his version of camp beads.

from here i give up on categorizing my hcs:

gets more irritated during winter/fall months

tea person

the type of person to belt out songs when he thinks nobody is watching

is actually rather chill during shadow travel, and doesn't get nauseated because he's done it with nico so often

lets the cocoa puffs hitch a ride on him whenever he's in the infirmary, and always has to explain who they are to new patients.

doesn't curse often but when he does it's a storm

friends with drew because i said so and also because i think he, jake, and drew have "i became a camp counselor too early" solidarity. i think they all became friends post tlo and have maintained a tentative relationship since! those cabins have each other's backs.

big spoon

wants to get more tattoos (maybe a tattoo sleeve?)

doesn't want to become a doctor, but rather a vet, or maybe a teacher. reasoning being that he'll have to relearn everything, but also that he'll have to deal with the loss of his patients again, this time knowing he couldn't heal them magically because he's relying on modern medicine. plus, he would have to spend a long time away from his siblings, and seeing as how he's a year rounder, i don't think that would bode well for him.

really really likes planning events - especially birthday parties

wants to travel the world, but is also afraid to leave everything behind

was once afraid of growing up, and still sort of is. doesn't think much of his birthday, because he used to celebrate it with his mother, and he didn't really get a chance to start celebrating with his siblings before being thrown into war

terrible dancer, even though his boyfriend is really good at it

loves to garden! there's a garden for the infirmary where he gathers ingredients for salves and poultices, but he also just loves the scent of flowers. he likes to care and nurture things, and plants are something he pours a lot of energy into. he and nico also go strawberry picking a lot.

fast fast fast runner

post tsats: persephone will occasionally call him using an angel trumpet flower (this is like. a very specific vision but search up one of those flowers and imagine holding it up to your ear like a telephone:)

anyway she calls him on one of these bad boys and asks how he's doing. they have long chats about flowers and sometimes him and nico are invited for picnics in the underworld.

him and nico have a travel bucket list

he has possibly the worst handwriting ever. absolutely terrible

is pretty bad at using technology, but still has to pretend like he knows how to use it when he's helping nico navigate the internet.

aand that's all i remember for now!

[andi-rigby]

Alright, y'all. Poll time. Synopses of your choices are under the cut, if you want them. I can't decide between my upcoming original stories (I'm gonna write them all eventually), so I'm inviting y'all to choose for me.

On a related note, if I hit 15 followers before this poll expires, I'll do a follower lottery and the lottery winner will get to name a character in the winning story! (More details on that also under the cut.)

Synopses

Adventures in the Gaywild, a queer contemporary portal fantasy with an ensemble cast of queer & disabled adults just trying to live their lives, but who have said lives interrupted regularly by their hometown’s proximity to the fey realm. Beronsgate is a cute little coastal town with a major problem: sometimes the door you open doesn’t lead where you wanted it to. Monster-of-the-week episodic sitcom installments with an overarching denial-of-destiny arc. (If this wins, the "winning story" will be the first installment of the series.)

The Death of Santa, a sapphic Christmas adventure with a transgender Mrs. Claus who’s unhappy in her role as the token female holiday persona, and escapes the North Pole only to find herself in a strange land of eternal winter. Kristina takes shelter in a fortress built over a gate, and finds deadly traps, warped Christmas monsters, and the woman she married 900 years ago. Transgender themes, trans joy/power, and mistaken identity feature heavily in this high-action novelette that tries not to take itself or Christmas too seriously.

Liberty, a gay cowboy friends-to-lovers between a cattle baron’s heir and a gifted horse trainer. Aaron and James have kept their romance a secret for almost a year. When Aaron’s mother makes a big stink about him turning down yet another farm princess, he’s got a tough choice to make: follow the herd, or follow his heart. Forget coming-of-age—let’s talk coming-out, love and support from unexpected avenues, and being true to yourself.

Double Tide, a seaside low fantasy adventure about a dockworker and the inquisitive merrow they met in the local tidepools, who become fast friends despite language barriers and local taboo. When a new fishing technique threatens the local merrow population, they discover whether a lone dockworker and a social pariah can really make a difference. Try this gender-agnostic, hopeful Romeo and Juliet (without the tragedy) that explores the meaning of love and friendship.

The Siege of Helen, an exploration of neurodivergence and (mis)communication in a romantic relationship. Helen’s new pregnancy has made her mood a thousand times more volatile, and her husband is spending more and more time at the office. Hephaestus, already overstimulated and dysregulated from trying to provide for his now-growing family, realizes in the nick of time that there’s only one way not to lose the woman he loves: he’s going to have to talk to her. About his feelings. Short story companion to my novel-in-progress, By Any Other Name, following Ambrose’s parents as they try desperately to keep their marriage from falling to pieces.

The Library, a heartwarming zombie survivor tale about a weary now-single dad and his last remaining foster teen who fight to preserve the ruins of a great library against those who would destroy it for their own short-term survival. Take refuge in the Charles J. LaRose Memorial Library, and let Kaylen tell you about the time they fought off zombies and men with guns to make a safe place for travelers like you to rest and recuperate in the desolate hellscape of the zombie apocalypse.

Lottery Info

Lottery will happen if the total follower count (less myself) on this blog reaches 15 before the poll in this post expires. I'll choose via random selection & contact the winner via Tumblr to confirm you want to participate. If you don't, or I can't contact you via Tumblr because your messages are closed, or if I don't get a response to my initial message within ~24 hours, then I'll choose a different winner by the same process. And so on until someone bites.

Lottery winner will receive a short bio of the relevant aspects of their character (appearance, mannerisms, and plot role), and the name they choose will be used for the described character. I will not accept names that are offensive or that would be considered offensive in the context of the story or character, and I retain the right to ask the winner for a different name if the chosen name is, for some reason, really really not going to work in the context of the story.

[steddieas-shegoes]

sweater weather

for the @steddieholidaydrabbles warm up round 2 (prompt: fall) rated: M wc: 998 cw: implied sexual content, dirty talk (kinda) tags: clothes sharing, horny Eddie

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Sometimes it seemed like fall arrived overnight.

Instead of a gradual change into cooler mornings and evenings, they woke up to a sudden 45 degree morning with no warning.

Steve loved fall, but he liked the slow shift of it. He liked the transition from short sleeves to long sleeves, then long sleeves to sweater, then eventually the winter coats and scarves.

This year wasn't gradual.

They'd been in his pool only two weeks before, surprised by the September heat wave hitting them.

So waking up to a chill in his bedroom and freezing cold tile in his bathroom from his windows being left open all night was a bit of a shock to the system.

Eddie was still asleep in bed, covers pulled up to his nose and light snores making Steve smile endearingly back at his sleeping form.

Steve went through his usual routine: shower, brush teeth, blow dry hair, put on chapstick.

When he walked over to his closet, he pulled out his favorite sweater and smiled to himself.

It was technically Eddie's, but he'd stolen it from his trailer so often, Eddie ended up "accidentally" leaving it at Steve's house one night and just never bothered to take it back.

He threw a t-shirt on, just in case it would be warm later, then put the sweater on over it. He accidentally grabbed a pair of Eddie's jeans before shaking his head and finding some of his own, not prepared to try to squeeze into the slim fit of his boyfriend's denim.

He made his way downstairs to make coffee and toast, knowing Eddie would wake up soon when he moved to cuddle him and would be met with an empty bed.

Steve hummed to himself as he spread grape jelly on his toast, the smell of coffee filling the kitchen.

He took a moment to open the window above the sink just enough to let some of the cool, fresh air inside. Eddie would complain when he came down, Steve would tell him to put on socks and a sweater, Eddie would tell him he shouldn't have to be dressed in his own home, etc.

But Eddie would wrap his arms around Steve's waist "for warmth" and kiss his neck, breathe in his freshly showered scent. He would tell him that he needed him to keep him warm in bed, but pull away because he knows Steve has to go to work. He'd pour himself a cup of coffee and then eat a spoonful of peanut butter instead of eating real breakfast because "it's too early to digest real food."

Footsteps on the stairs interrupted Steve's thoughts.

He took a sip of his coffee and smirked into it, listening as Eddie mumbled to himself about no one turning the damn heat on.

Eddie rounded the corner, saying something about "this big fancy house has heat," and then froze when he saw Steve.

Steve's brows raised as he took a bite of his toast.

"That's my sweater."

"Mhm. I wear it all the time, baby."

Steve took another bite of toast and ignored the floating feeling in his stomach at the way Eddie was looking at him.

Like he was starving, but not for breakfast.

Eddie glanced at the clock on the wall and then back to Steve.

"You have 20 minutes before you have to leave," Eddie said.

"Uh huh," Steve agreed.

Eddie's hands were on his waist before Steve could register what he was implying.

"Eds, no. I did my hair already, c'mon," Steve gripped his hands to push them away, but he didn't try very hard.

"I won't touch your hair. Don't need to," Eddie's lips ghosted against his throat, his hot breath sending a shiver down Steve's spine.

"Baby..." Steve groaned, but already felt himself hardening in his jeans.

"You're so fucking hot in my clothes, sweetheart."

Eddie was pulling the neckline of the sweater back to leave a bruise, a reminder for Steve that he belonged to Eddie, that Eddie loved him.

"We don't have time," Steve moaned, unconvincing in his quest to get Eddie to stop.

"I know. But later, you know what I'm gonna do to you?" Eddie said before sucking another bruise on the other side of his neck.

"Hm?" Steve felt fuzzy.

"Gonna make you strip out of everything except this sweater. Leave the windows open like you like, and if the neighbors hear you screaming my name, that's their problem," Eddie pulled away with a smirk. "You're gonna make a mess of this sweater while I touch every inch of you. Then you're gonna ride me until you can't feel your legs."

Steve would think he was bluffing, but after nearly five years of being with Eddie, he knew he wasn't.

He knew he'd be coming home later and getting all of that.

"In bed?"

"I'll think about it."

Steve smirked back at him before leaving a kiss on his lips and turning back to his breakfast.

"You got anything today?" Steve asked, ignoring the way his heart was still racing from Eddie's touches.

"Just a call with the guys to go over some last minute recording stuff."

"So you'll be home all day?"

"Yeah, why? You need me to do something?"

Steve turned to him again, took a sip of his coffee, and then smiled.

"I need you to get yourself off before I get home so I can ride you for hours," Steve said seriously.

Eddie sputtered, nearly dropping the coffee pot.

"Hours?"

"Mhm. Kind of in the mood for you to make me beg."

"O...kay."

Steve leaned in for one final peck on the lips before he set his mug and plate in the sink.

"See you later. Love you!"

"Mhm, love you," Eddie said back.

Steve felt piercing eyes on him as he left the room. He adjusted the sweater so it rested against his waistline as he walked, smiling when he heard Eddie whistling after him.

He loved fall.

[horsegamergirl]

A new game blog just came out with many interesting things, here's a link if you want to read it whole, I'm gonna write down what I think is the most important/interesting:

They plan to release the showjumping with faults and penalties permanently sometime this fall or winter

They planned to release the wardrobe update in April, but they had to postpone to June. They ran into a problem with UI scaling, so it's again postponed, but they want to release it this year.

This delay also affected their plans to put more slots on the character and horse sheet. This mean that the ability to wear earrings and glasses at the same time, or the release of ear bonnets and horse blankets will be set to later. (Expected realease 2025 and later)

The customizable stables are coming (they said September on instagram under one post). Throughout the rest of this year, they'll release more options, so we can "mix and match". If people like it, they will continue to evolve and release new ones during 2025.

The new system for retrofitting older horses is nearly finished. They plan to finish it late 2024 and have all G3 horses retrofitted before summer 2025.

I'm gonna just copy this one: "We’re introducing a new way of interacting with your horse and fellow players in a revamped area set in a ye olde time. We hope you're as excited as we are for this addition — we think this journey in time will be magical!"

wait, wait, wait... a REVAMPED AREA?!?!

For now, breeding horses is off the table. Instead, they're focusing on more customization for horses and more interactions between the horse and the rider - this includes personality and reactions from your horses! (this will be G4 I think)

They started to work on the name changes, but changed the focus on functionality of the launcher and the handling of Star Coins Wallets. The name change is not forgotten, but it won't come in 2024 or 2025.

More body types, more face options and more skin colours are planned, but they have to optimize and improve graphical pipeline first, otherwise it could lead to game crashes and game instabilities. These optimizations and improvements will be done by January 2025. Additional body types will be worked on during 2025. They're also thinking of making it as a slider, so people can create themselves. Whatever they choose, it won't come earlier than late 2025 or even 2026, depending on what gets in the way.

Copying: "Narrative and Story!: This will be for another post. We will not stop, ever, to share stories from the universe of Jorvik—there are still many untold secrets, and much more to discover in the stories we've already begun." That sounds ominous lol, but does that mean they plan to finish the unfinished storylines?

There will be part 2 of this game blog, when it drops, I'll let y'all know.