#my marker started dying on me while i was colouring this

[queerpossumtrenchcoat]

Let's talk gender expression, awful haircuts and realisation of who I am! I came out as gender fluid approximately around the age of the third picture above- and I got an awful haircut to match it, but at the time I felt like THE gender vibe; I was 13, or so, and didn't realise I looked like I'd had a fistfight with a weed whacker. It was a stepping stone however, for me to discover who I was; after this time I started to experiment with my look, name and pronouns, leaning more towards he/they and slowly changing my name from Jaimee to Jai and or James- small steps, I know, but crucial ones in me realising my dead name no longer really fit me as a person. James was a family name after all. Finding myself wasn't always glamorous, the look wasn't always particularly handsome or pretty, it was colour the tips of my hair with sharpie markers and conditioner until my hair had a distinctly petrol-and-macadamia type stench or cutting it with a cheap, disposable razor which ended up giving me hair reminiscent of the early 2000s emo scene (which I totally was, even if I only saw 6 years of the 'early 2000s!'). I would hack off chunks, flatten my chest with cheap Duct Tape and wear boxers I stole from my dad in order to feel some semblance of who I was, using makeup to poorly build cheek bones and eyebrows so I could look like my hero at the time, Brendon Urie (God, that aged poorly..) In time I got creative, I learned that my parents wouldn't let me get a 'real boy's haircut' so I'd have to improvise; here came the next 6 months of beanie hats and ponytails pulled over to create a 'boy fringe' which, in retrospect, was giving more Justin Beiber than Emo Quartet, but that all chained when I turned 16 and... Got to dye my hair for the first time!! It was the greatest experience for my gender to date!! My mother bought me midnight blue hairdye for my 16th birthday and helped me dye it; I looked in the mirror at my fairly short ish, dark blue hair and I saw it. I saw him, stood staring back at me with tears in his eyes. I saw ME. I told my girlfriend, at the time anyway, straight away and she accepted me with open arms- I think she was expecting the genderfluid-to-trans masc timeline, which funnily enough he followed in 2022 during lockdown. Lockdown dug its claws into my gender and expression quite deeply; while at home with my mother, father and two very young siblings I came to experiment with my gender a lot more, dressing in more masculine clothes and cutting my hair off for 'sake of ease', or that's what I told my parents anyway- they believed it too, surprisingly. I went through college having to somewhat pretend I was just a feminine man, I was exhausted and on the brink of suicide, as most people my age at the time were, and went by Eden because it seemed more palatable to the others around me- didnt stop me being picked on, but it wasn't by students... It was my own teacher! Shout out to Miss Dunsby! Then I dropped out of college. I picked up a shitty little cafe job as a barista and linecook, cooking meals, making coffees, pretending I gave half a shit about a joke I'd heard over and over again; I dyed my hair neon green and used my pay checks to get it cut SHORT short for the first time- I looked hella fine, in my opinion, but I was also starting to realise something.. Maybe I had been right the first time, because I didn't feel like a man all the time. Back to the drawing board... One shaved head and a job at a gay bar later, I started using the art of drag, performing as a female persona, to realise that I was Masc-Agender, like a boyish presenting genderless person. Easy enough, I suppose. I started wearing makeup, being myself and wearing whatever I damn pleased, uncaring of social cues and rules, I was me. I was happy. I AM happy. If there is anything you can take away from this, once you find the part of yourself you can express your feelings, thoughts and emotions with, go wild!! I did and it made realising my truth so much easier!

[k00295632]

Project: Disrupt, Week 6, Thursday, (16/11/23)

Getting started !!!!!

Lighting & Set up

Thursday morning, I set myself up in the green room of the photography studio and set up camp. Using the skills I learned during my studio lighting workshop during week two, I used a a black velvety fabric I found lying around as my back drop, set up the mirror and hands, I set up a tripod and angled my phone camera to my desired position, and proceeded to experimented with different coloured lights from different angles.

I eventually taped down the edges to prevent the cloth from wrinkling, and placed markers on the ground where the legs of the tripod should go, this was a lesson learnt after I accidently kicked the tripod while filming and had to figure out my angles again.

These are the 2 colours I decided to experiment with alongside the the varied angled light sources. You're probably wondering, why the coloured lights? Well 1, for atmosphere to add those spooky otherworldly vibes, and because the camera on my phone doesn't do well in dark rooms, and was unable to capture & define the hands clearly.

On the left, is how it looked without the coloured lights, you can barely make them out ! On the right, are the two lights I was tampering with, I ended up using both lights in the end, the green and purples made a nice unnatural affect.

Look at that difference ! Much nicer in my opinion. My apologies if it looks a small bit grainy, the transfer from phone to computer isn't looking very kind at the moment.

Stop motion

You're probably still thinking about my introduction, and I'm here to assure you it isn't what you think it is, as suspicious as it looks, if it was I would've gotten this stop motion done in a day. I'm sure it caught your attention however.

Since I'm doing a stop motion of hands coming out of a mirror using plaster casts of my hand, I had to work backwards to get the affect I wanted, which meant, per every single frame I had to shave down my plaster hands bit by bit to give them the appearance that they were receding into the surface of the mirror. However, this left me with a very suspicious looking pile of plaster saw dust, the texture is very similar to flour surprisingly enough, and I decided to be a bit cheeky about it.

Difficulties I encountered.

1.

I accidentally dropped my phone while removing it from the tripod and it landed on one of the hands, breaking 2 of the fingers. I was not pleased. I managed to stick them back on with a bit of Pritt stick so the crises was averted.

2 .

The batteries on the lights kept dying, so I had to switch them around a lot, my apologies to Paul for using up half his torches, so when I ran out of green ones I had to get creative, I found a torch with a working battery, took off the red lense and tied a green plastic sheet over the light using a bit of wire lying around.

3.

After a certain point of shaving down the hands, it would disrupt their natural balance, which would prevent them from standing upright on their own. So I started thinking, I needed something malleable at a moments notice, quick to use, while still sturdy and didn't waste time. A lecturer suggested I drill a hole and and stick a metal pole in with a wooden stand, but I thought that would take far too much time, so I thought what about play doe, or even better, clay. So I popped down to the ceramics room and robbed a clump of clay, and tried it out. I was successful.

4.

I inhaled so much of it... I can still feel it in the back of my throat, I feel sick thinking about it. I will be wearing a mask in the future, I felt unwell afterwards, and having to stand up and down so much made me quite dizzy. If I were to do something similar in the future I'm setting myself up at a desk and chair.

Todays progress

I got 22 frames done today, not too bad, certainly better than the state of my back. I threw it onto google slides for convenience sake to have an idea of what it would look like, its a bit dodgy looking from my phone camera but I plan on putting all the frames onto adobe photoshop using the skills I learned from week 6's photoshop workshop, to animate them a bit better,

That's all for today folks.

[sangsavoir]

Day 3: Friends

POV: you cry while two high school vball players roast you

[hansensgirl]

push it to the limit.

summary. | As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him.

warnings. | Non/Dubcon, watersports, obsessive behaviour, coercion, bribery, dark themes, drinking (champagne), hate fucking, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation, breeding kink, choking, allusions to anal, reader is really rude (so is Niki), *sexism/misogyny/paying for sex (see a/n), and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.4k

pairings. | Dark!Niki Lauda x Reader, James Hunt x Reader (it’s one-sided).

author’s note. | please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. *he talks about paying you for sex as a way to degrade you, it’s brief and in german! it does not reflect anything about me or my blog. we are pro-sex work here! it’s just fiction.

“Look! There he is!” a small voice tells you, pointing somewhere with a great distance. You’re not sure how he manages to spot his favourite racer from so far. Among the sea of heads, your younger brother sits on your shoulders. You can feel him touching you down to your bones, and you try to ignore the pain just for him. “You sure? You said that five times before, y’know,” you denote, and you hear the six-year-old groan. “Yes, I’m sure! Look, he’s drinking that nasty stuff like always,” he adds, and you realize he’s talking about James’s signature champagne.

“It’s not nasty,” you mumble under your breath, remembering the way the pleasant liquid felt and tasted against your tongue. Sticky gold is what you’d describe it as, and you recall how it stained your skin. Shaky hands are bound to tremor even more under pressure, and your friend is an absolute clutz. It’s no wonder she made such a mess, as it is one of her best traits. But a particular pair of hands that seemed to have Midas’s touch cleaned you up, and you still to this day wish you were awake to thank them. You have many regrets, but that’s just a small one.

“Can we go closer to the fence? I want to try and talk to him,” your brother politely requests, and you let out a heavy sigh. Your mouth is pressed in a line, and you begin to shift your feet. You’ve got boots made of suede, a brown colour that always seems to go best with your all-black outfits. There’s a matching jacket on you as well, and it has fur on the cuffs and collar.

“What’s the marvel of watching it in person rather than watching it on television? Out here, we struggle so much, and you can barely even watch them properly. On the television, well, you see it all, and you can be as comfortable as you want,” you wonder out loud, and the child holds onto you tightly. He squeezes your head tightly, and the ribbon in your hair begins to fall in your face. It’s white silk, with a lovely hem to it. You save it for these races your sibling always wants to go to. Your other coloured ones are left for daily excursions, and sometimes a good party, too.

“Excuse me!” you loudly call out, and other women cast you nasty glares. You’ve seen those same looks one too many times, and you don’t pay any mind to them. If they truly care about their spots, they’d stand up and fight for them. But they’re just like babies with a piece of candy in their tiny fists. Maybe a jellybean, or perhaps even a pack of those oh so enjoyable Sour Patch Kids. “Why do you like only him?” you ask, raising both your eyebrows as you get closer to the fence. “I like James and Niki!” he exclaims loudly, and you loop your fingers between the holes of the fence.

“Niki? As in Niki Lauda? That arrogant, Austrian asshole?” you question in shock, not minding your foul language at all. “Yes! The guy that Dad hates. He’s cool, and he’s fast,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? There’s nothing cool about him. He’s just… fast. James is the cool one,” you argue, and you can hear him groaning. “You like James Hunt because he looked at you that one time,” he snaps back in annoyance, and you sigh dreamily in remembrance. “Exactly! Now I need to look for Niki, I wanna say hi to him!” your brother exclaims, and your eyes scan the entrance area for Niki Lauda.

“Don’t just say hi to him; ask him for an autograph! We can sell it to one of his fans afterwards. They’re always dying for anything of his,” you propose, and your brother simply ignores the swindling ways that you’ve inherited from your grandfather since you were a kid. It’s the reason why you tend to find purses with deep pockets and smooth zippers that don’t pinch on the inner fabric. You reach into your bag, and you grab a marker that you’ve always got with you.

The crowd gets louder and louder, almost as if you’ve got headphones on your head and you want to turn down the volume, but you keep hitting the wrong button. A woman shrieks in your left ear, and a man whoops in the other. More bodies press against you, and with the marker in between two of your digits, you hope that you don’t return home with billions of bruises. On the big screen, recaps from the previous races are being played. It’s win after win, all on behalf of Niki Lauda and his incredible luck that doesn’t seem to have any end.

You’re finally able to make out what people are screaming; the curly-haired man’s name. “Niki! I love you!” they all shout, and you wonder if any of them like James. It seems like you haven’t found your people, and maybe just for today, you’re the odd one out. “Seems like you’re not the only one that has Niki amongst their favourites,” you grumble, and your brother lets out a giggle. A few moments later, he sits up far more proper on your shoulders. The hand with the marker in it grabs onto one of his legs, and you make sure he doesn’t fall down and ends up being the true loser of this race.

“Niki! I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, using his full voice and then some. You look over to the entrance, and you spot the brooding Austrian wrapped in red walking out with a deep frown on his face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but your brother doesn’t care about your deep annoyance towards his idol. Niki shoots a look over to where you’re both standing, and your brother waves his arms from side to side, trying to get the racer’s attention. Even if he doesn’t, you have a feeling that Niki will be more displeased than anything.

It only makes sense, as he always acts that way with his fans though they’re the only people who appreciate him.

His nose is upturned, and he tries to pinpoint your brother and his powerful screams. High-pitched yet so loud, it’s no wonder why his tantrums are the root for almost all household headaches. “He’s looking over here,” you tell him, and your brother nods. “Yeah, because of me! He’s going to come, and I’m going to meet him!” he squeals, somehow connecting none existent dots to fuel a form of hope that dwindles inside him. You can be mean, but you’re not cruel. So you won’t be a realist, and you’ll let the youth on your shoulders believe what he wants to think.

“And when you meet him, ask him to sign something,” you advise, not letting go of your chance to make a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s pondering whether or not he should do it. “Niki! I love you!” the woman next to you screams as if she’s using every bit of her energy to get him to notice her. Your head already starts to ache just a bit, and you wish you brought some form of a pain killer. Niki saunters over to the fence, and for some reason, you don’t feel proper behind the fence.

It’s the way he carries himself with the highest of heads, a sort of confidence dragging with his every step. He knows he can do anything right now, and everybody except you would love him for it. He could make an entire turn and not greet his fans, and they’ll laugh it off. You’ve witnessed his haughtiness, and there’s no doubt inside you that you’ll see it again. “Niki! Good luck on the race!” a person says, and the rest of the crowd laughs at them.

“Dude, he doesn’t need your luck,” someone next to them says before elbowing the poor fan’s ribs. You can hear them wince in pain before they start to scream at the racer once again. Niki raises his hands up to his chest, almost as if he’s surrendering to something. That bratty smirk of his is replaced by a cheerful smile, and while everyone adores it, you see right through the façade. “Hello, everyone!” he greets, and you already want to roll your eyes until they fall back into your skull.

Niki stands right in front of you, and you try to look somewhere other than his face. Your view darts wildly until you finally settle on looking at the exceptionally boring asphalt underneath your feet. The screaming quiets down, and you wonder if everything is okay. “Uhm, Mr. Niki Lauda? I love you! I’m such a big fan! I watch all of your races, and I try to go to them all! Can I have an autograph?” your brother gleefully expresses, and you snap your head up at his words.

Much to your dismay, you lock gazes with the man you hate most in this entire stadium. His eyes are rather dull, yet they’ve got a sort of darkness in them that makes you feel just a tad bit uneasy. Both begrudgingly and excitedly, you hand the marker to your brother, who, in turn, gives it to his idol. Niki takes it gratefully, and he raises his least dominant hand. The other fans try to reach for it, for him. But he ignores them, and he gives a high-five to your brother.

You can’t hear the sound of their palms meeting because the displeasure of the crowd drowns it all out. “What do you want me to write it on?” Niki questions, taking the cap off of the marker. “Uhm, my shirt?” he offers, stretching the red fabric towards the elder. You observe as the racer awkwardly signs his name on your brother’s clothing, and you know that your Mother is going to be more than angry. Your Father, on the other hand, will be filled with pride and excitement.

“Thank you so much!” the child squeals, and Niki simply waves his hand as if it was no big deal to him. But you know that deep down inside, he was probably a bit annoyed. “Do you want an autograph, Miss?” Niki asks, and you take note of how his demeanour has changed. His features are softer, and his eyes seem to be lit up. “Oh, uh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for James. I love him a lot,” you tell him, pushing your shoulders back in confidence. The people around you let out gasps, and they follow their sounds up with whispers that aren’t so hushed.

Niki’s face drops, and you give him your fakest smile. He stares at you, almost as if he wants to lash out and scream. Maybe even call you a name or two. “That’s alright,” he assures after a while, and you have the urge to say something snarky. He hands the marker back to your brother, who is too busy being in awe of his favourite racer to listen to you being on your worst behaviour. Niki walks off, but this time, his stride lacks his boldness. “He’s so cool!” your brother squeals, staring at the Sharpie. You sigh, knowing that you two will constantly butt heads over Niki.

“Well, I beg to disagree.”

“Niki! Is everything okay?” one of the mechanics asks, and the star nods his head mindlessly. Instead of pressing him for some sort of answer, he leaves Niki alone to mull all by himself. There is not one person who dares to talk to him before the race unless it has to do with the car or the competition itself. It’s out of pure fear because nobody likes to face the Austrian’s wrath. From screaming way too loudly to piercing, uncomfortable stares, he never knows how to properly communicate with others.

He gazes at you from just a few mere metres away. His eyes are like ice, and he hopes you can feel the coldness from where you are. He really fucking hopes you do. You’ve got that sultry look to you, and it’s not cast towards him. No, it isn’t at all, and it irks him all the way to his bones. You ogle James fucking Hunt. Of all the other inferior racers there, you choose to admire James, and Niki hates you both for that. At every single race, he’s seen you show up to, you never look at him.

You don’t acknowledge him at all. It doesn't just hurt his ego; it also breaks his heart. Your preference and love for the Englishman injure those butterflies inside Niki’s stomach, and yet they still continue to flutter. The funniest, most ironic part of everything is that the races you attend always end with Niki being the winner. Never James. But you still idolize him over the Austrian, and he’s tired of it.

“Make sure it goes fast, okay? Fast, but nothing should catch on fire or malfunction,” Niki tells his technicians, and they halt what they’re doing. “But, Sir-” one of them starts, and Niki closes his fist for them. “No,” he simply states before crossing his arms once again. Niki looks back over to you, and you’ve now got a smile on your face. He loves the sight, but he knows his adoration will turn sour in a few seconds once he follows your line of gaze. So he chooses not to, and he decides to use you as his motivation.

The racers all go to their cars, and they pull their helmets on. Some are dressed in black, some in white, and only two in red. James and Niki. Niki is surrounded by his team, and James has twice the number of people next to him. Along with mechanics are girls in short skirts with jackets similar to yours. Deep down, you wish you could switch places with one of them, but maybe it isn’t as good as it seems to be. Perhaps your spot behind the fence with your younger sibling is what’s meant for you.

Your neck is more than exhausted. Your shoulders have a unique pain to them, one that not even doctors can begin to describe. Your bones are in desperate need of a crack, and your muscles crave a lengthy stretch that’ll leave you shaking. Yet, you continue to stand there with no complaints ready to fly off your tongue. The whooping behind you is so loud, but you’ve gotten used to it. “C’mon, Niki! You can do it!” your brother cries out, clapping his hands in excitement.

Niki flashes a thumbs up, and he looks at you one last time. As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him. Perhaps this time, you’ll realize he’s the best racer there is. He takes a deep breath, and he reassures himself that he’ll win as always.

“I have a feeling Niki is going to win this one,” the lady next to you says, and her friends nod their heads in utter agreement. You want to ask why she thinks that, but you’ve already left a bad taste in the crowd’s mouth. “Do you think Niki will win?” you ask your brother, looking up at him as best as you can. “I think so, but maybe James will surprise us!” he predicts, and you nod your head. “I hope James wins,” you whisper under your breath. Your bottom lip falls victim to your teeth, and you gnaw on it out of stress.

You keep your sights on James, and occasionally, you glance at Niki. Perhaps it’s simply just morbid curiosity that’s eating at you because there’s no way you’d just casually look at a man you despise with all your heart. As all the racers go to their designated spots in their cars, excitement fills your stomach. But it’s mixed with fear, as anything can go wrong at these tracks, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about all possibilities.

Who will win? Who will get hurt? Who will get angry? Who will become sad? You ask yourself all these questions that don’t truly matter much to your life, and yet you still try to find an answer inside of you.

Suddenly, the sound of engines revving and then taking off fills your ears. Screams follow them up, and you realize that the race has started. You wait until every single car leaves your view before looking at the scoreboard. You can’t bear to watch them risk their lives while you stand not so comfortably yet safe behind a fence. “Oh my God! James is in the first place!” you squeal like a kid in a candy store, and your brother claps.

Some of the people around you cheer for James, and others for Niki. But you ignore them, and you simply focus on what the orangish-yellow neon lights say. Some names switch spots rapidly, perhaps too quickly for you to keep up with. But you stay trained on the upper two; I. HUN, II. LAU. The former stays on top for most of the race, and the latter switches with him every now and then. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” you nervously mumble, hoping that the Englishman stays on top.

“Seems like your favourite is going to win,” the known lady cleverly smirks, and you give her the side-eye. “Yes, because he’s good at what he does,” you confidently agree, hoping that you won’t have to eat your words in the next few minutes. She chuckles before shaking her head. “No wonder you don’t like Niki Lauda,” she expresses, shaking her head practically in some form of awe. “What are you talking about?” you annoyingly press, already growing tired of whatever conversation she’s trying to make.

“You’re both egotistical and full of yourselves. You do it because that’s who you are, and Niki does it for his own reasons, like pure enjoyment. It’s so obvious for you to dislike him because he’s a reflection of you, and you hate that,” she states, proud of herself for whatever reasons. “That’s dumb, and so are you. He does it because that’s who he is. I do it because I don’t like some people—such as yourself—and because I have plenty of reasons to be prideful. Not egotistical,” you snap, and she raises her hands as if she’s surrendering.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Your mood has turned absolutely irritable, and the bitterness has claimed you entirely. You realize that you haven’t checked the places since before speaking to the lady, and you get excited. Flicking your head up, you expect to have your preferred person’s name at the very top, but instead, you see the name of the one and only Niki Lauda. I. LAU, II. HUN. “No, no, no!” you panic, watching as James stays in second place. None of the names change places at all, and you find yourself to be absolutely crushed. “Yes, yes, yes!” the crowd cheers and your face has fallen in disappointment.

Niki’s name gets announced, and everyone is absolutely elated. Everyone apart from you. Your brother celebrates the win from his high spot, and everybody jumps for joy. You stay silent, and you try your hardest to not swallow your pride. Each driver gets out of their cars slowly, and they congratulate the Austrian with smiles on their faces. You stare at him callously before you notice that James is still grinning. Despite not winning entirely, he never actually lost. So there’s no reason for you to be so dull and gloomy.

He walks off with his posse of men and women, and you realize maybe it’s time for you to head home as well. “So, your favourite won,” you say to your brother, and he giggles. “Yep! And yours lost!” he jokes, and you let out a forced giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” you brush off, making your way through the energetic body of people you strongly dislike.

Niki is engulfed in overly suffocating hugs. Some hands shake him, and some even slap him on the back, not so lightly. He doesn’t know which pairs belong to which bodies, and yet he goes with them all anyway. “You did great, Niki!” one voice praises. “Yeah, great job, Niki!” another adds. He thanks everybody in one sentence, and he pulls away once they start to mingle amongst themselves. The fantastic win of his isn’t what’s on his mind. It’s the thing that’s been etched and burned into his brain for him to think about, even though it should be appreciated now.

No. You’re what’s on Niki’s mind, and he has no intention of letting you leave.

He looks over at the swarm of heads that may have drowned you, and he can’t find you there. Not one trace of you is left behind, and his blood boils. Do you truly hate him to the point where you can’t even stay back for a few more seconds? Niki swears in Austrian under his breath, and he frustratingly walks over to the crowd. Fingers that aren’t yours reach out for him, and he ignores them all. “Have any of you seen that woman with the little boy on her shoulders?” he angrily questions, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

His heart is still clamouring wildly in his chest, practically beating against him to be let out. “Uhm, she just left… She went that way! But I could easily replace her if you want…” a woman flirts, and Niki completely ignores her words after he gets what he wants. He leaves abruptly, and they are still yelling after him. “So eine verdammte Schlampe. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dir eine Lektion zu erteilen, du hast darum gebettelt, seit ich dich gesehen habe,” he grumbles, walking through the crowded entrance.

Niki emerges with perseverance and even more anger than before. He searches through the sea of racing enthusiasts, and he spots you being bent over. It’s a wildly lewd position for you to be in, and Niki finds himself feeling flushed and displeased at the way you let others leer at you. He should be the only one to see you that way, nobody else. The Austrian wants to storm his way to you, to grab you and drag you somewhere more private so that he can put you in your place, but he knows the current setting isn’t right.

“Uhm, Mr. Lauda? Would you like a drink in honour of your win? It’ll be on us!” a shy waitress offers, appearing out of nowhere. He jumps in fear, but he quickly calms down. “Well…” he ponders, even though he’s not a fan of drinking after a race. In a trice, the lightbulb in his brain goes off. It shines brightly, and a clever idea starts to nag him. “Do you, uh, mind doing me a favour? I’ll even pay you extra,” he quickly prompts, and the waitress smirks. “Sure!” she agrees, carefully balancing the glasses on her tray.

“I need you to take all these glasses—maybe add some more champagne and make sure they’re really full—to that person over there,” he instructs, pointing to where you are. He watches as you wave to your family, who drives off without you. “The one with the brown jacket?” she double checks, and he nods in assurance. “Yeah, that one. Take them to her, and tell her they’re from someone who adores her and her love for champagne quite a bit,” Niki directs while trying to hold in a villain-like laugh.

“Ok! Then I just leave?” she asks, tilting her head innocently. “Yes. And don’t mention my name or anything about me at all,” he adds quickly before placing a hundred-dollar bill on the tray. The waitress slips it into her pocket before walking to where you’re standing idly. Niki watches the innocent worker make her way towards you until he realizes he should hide away before she makes a mistake.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Hi, I have something for you,” a waitress tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- What? I never ordered anything, I think you have the wrong person,” you tell her, turning your back and facing elsewhere. “No! I have the right person. They said they’re someone who adores you and your love for champagne!” she gleefully clarifies, and only one person comes to mind. James. You let out an excited, eager gasp. One that can’t be rivalled by any of Niki’s fans from his win.

She hands you the two full glasses, and you can just tell that the golden liquid is of high quality. You get drunk quickly, perhaps a little too easily. But that’s never stopped you from enjoying yourself at all. “Thank you so much! Oh, and I’m sorry for being rude at first,” you softly whisper to her, and she simply waves you away. “No worries,” she reassures, and she walks off before you can finish your first glass.

Tilting your head back, you bring the first flute to your mouth and you down everything it has to offer in just a few gulps. The drink slides down your throat with such ease. It’s brut, and it has a sort of bitter yet sweet taste to it. Sighing, you smack your lips and take whatever is left of the first glass gratefully. You then switch the glasses around with shaky yet skillful hands. “Thank you, James, for being such a lovely guy,” you murmur to yourself, dragging out the last letters of each word.

The alcohol quickly settles inside you, and it starts to distort you as always. Blurry eyes and a hazy mind, you’ve turned into a drunken mess in a matter of a few seconds. You slowly sip on your second and last glass before your temptations grow tired of your sluggishness. You down the entire thing until there’s a small drop at the bottom that just won’t budge. You let out a tiny sound of amazement, and you find yourself wanting to have some more. You lick your lips, trying to search for a slight hint of the sort of melon flavour until it goes away.

“Uhm? Does anyone know where that waitress went?” you ask loudly, and those who hear you shake their heads ‘no.’ “Damn,” you frustratingly mutter, lightly stomping your foot against the concrete. You roll your head backwards, in both a stretch and a habit. Your mind feels heavy, but your bones and muscles are even more burdensome. You bring your skull back to its normal position, and you decide to go look for her. Stumbling clumsily, you walk back into the dreaded arena where everyone is still celebrating Niki Lauda’s victory.

Niki watches you amongst a crowd of fans who are trying to form some sort of discussion with him. They hound him with all kinds of questions, some about the race itself and some about the esteemed racer and his personal life. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes stay trained on you until you disappear behind the red door that leads to rooms that only named people are allowed to go to. “So, what are you going to do now, Mr. Lauda? How are you going to celebrate?” one of them asks, with a sort of sultry tone to their voice that he fails to notice.

“I have plans with a friend of mine for tonight,” he briefly states before pushing through them and following you into the stadium. “Can I join?” another asks, and he simply ignores them as they call after Niki with even more curiosity. It’s not hard to spot someone in bright red overalls suddenly walking into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but it’s easy to pay no mind to him because he’s a champion and most people who see him aren’t.

“Where, where, where are you, kleine Maus?” he hauntingly calls out, and his voice echoes back. Niki can hear the sound of your shoes clicking against the ground, and he decides to follow it. He tries his hardest to calm his heart down, but it’s hard to both hold your breath and make sure you’re not nearing cardiac arrest. The racer quickens the paces of his feet, practically jogging towards you as you decide to turn around and forget about the champagne.

Your jacket slips off your shoulders as you whip your body around, and suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall. The brick is painted over with a sort of cream colour. You begin to panic as strong hands keep you from fighting your attacker. “Du bellst wohl nicht nur, kleine Maus,” he notes out loud, and you don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. The voice is familiar, though, except for the fact it’s a few octaves deeper than you last heard.

“Niki?” you question, halting your flailing fists and restless legs. “Yes, kleine Maus?” the man questions and your jaw drops in shock. “What the fuck?! Are you insane? Get off of me!” you scream loudly, and his hopes of getting you still begin to die like a flower in the wintertime. Niki grabs ahold of your wrists in his dominant hand, and he swiftly turns you around and stomps on your ankles. “Help!” you cry out, but his other hand presses your face against the wall.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” he orders in your ear, pushing your white ribbon out of your face. You listen to him, but you disobey his commands at the same time. Writhing around, you try to escape the claws that squeeze you tightly, and you fail miserably. “Cute. Now stop fighting me, or else I’ll hurt you so badly you wouldn’t be able to go to anyone for help,” he threatens, and you gulp thickly in fear. Your saliva tastes of alcohol still, and you regret ever coming to the race.

“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard. All you need to do is listen to me,” Niki instructs, talking down to you like you’re some child who doesn’t know any better. “Why?” you choke out through gritted teeth. Your cheekbones rub against the brick, and the pain is gruesome. “Because I need to put you in your place. Do you seriously think you can just mouth off to me like that? To disrespect me like that? To prefer that pathetic racer over me?” he asks, and you let out a whimper. Each of his words sinks into you like needles filled with anesthesia.

They numb your mind until you realize what’s really happening, but by then, it’s too late.

“Well, obviously, I prefer James over you! Look at you, you’re rude, and you’re a horrible, shitty person. Now get off of me!” you lash out, even though your body doesn’t move. Niki simply laughs like a maniac, and you find yourself wanting to take back your words. “Maybe I’m so rude because I like you. Like how little boys tease little girls when they have crushes. You do know what a crush is, right? Just making sure since you’re so cold-hearted. Bet you don’t know anything other than hatred,” he spits, and you’re pretty offended.

“I know what you’re talking about! I’ve had feelings for people, okay?” you bite back, and Niki becomes curious. “Really? Let me guess. James Hunt? Some old boyfriend of yours? A man at a party who cleaned you up because you don’t know how to take care of yourself?” the Austrian questions, and you don’t realize who he’s talking about until you look at his hands. They’re the same as those gracious ones, except they’re more rough and lack gentleness. “That was you?” you ask, and you’ve lost all fight in your body at the realization.

“Well, of course, kleine Maus. Someone had to watch your back, and that someone is me! Du bist nicht so klug, wie du dich selbst darstellst, ganz ehrlich. But that’s okay, it’ll be okay. It’ll be just alright now that I’m here to put you in your place,” he reassures you, and you don’t even have the energy to ask him what he means. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve learnt my lesson now, can you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, Sir, I promise!” you plea and your words start to blur into one another.

“I don’t think you’re sorry, kleine Maus. I need to do what’s necessary because I’m fucking tired of you and your bullshit,” Niki snaps, and you whimper from the harsh tone of his words. His change in behaviour gives you whiplash, and you realize that there’s no way out of whatever he has planned for you. “So careless, so mean, so ignorant… So clumsy. I guess you aren’t as independent or as strong as you claim to be,” he whispers, and he causes tears to sting your almost empty eyes. They hurt, and they carry such maliciousness to them that you can’t help but be terrified of Niki.

A hand comes up to the waist of your jeans. They flare out at the bottom, and well, they look pretty damn good on you. But maybe a little too good because they make Niki think wild thoughts. He expertly takes the buttons out of their holes, and he unzips your rusted zipper. “P- Please, Niki,” you beg one last time, but Niki ignores you. He pulls down your pants against your protests, and he lets them get tangled with your tired feet. Your bare ass is exposed to the cool air of the arena, and goosebumps begin to rise on your skin.

“Such a lovely ass, kleine Maus. Maybe I should fuck it instead of doing what I had planned. Would you like that?” Niki politely asks, and your eyes nearly fall out of your skull. “N- No, thank you, Niki,” you shakily reject, and he nods. “You see, unlike you, I’m not so mean. So I’ll spare you, but only this once,” he cheerfully tells you, acting as if you’re supposed to start jumping up and down at his words. The closest thing to gratitude he’ll ever get from you is silence.

Niki still has a tight grip on your hands, and with your legs now immobilized from the mess by your feet, you can’t do much to save yourself. He wraps his arm around your waist, and he grabs at the crotch of your panties with no care at all. The cotton bunches up, and his fingers graze lightly against your folds. You try to ignore his touch, but he does the opposite and forces you to focus on it. He’s frozen, and you’re waiting for his next malevolent move. You can hear his heavy breathing, and he angles his digits upwards so he can touch you even more.

You press a fist against the wall, and you try to brace yourself as best as you can. Unexpectedly, a fierce pain strikes you in your hips, and it hurts more than you can describe. His hand has left you, and you can feel the air breeze against your pussy. Your panties are on the floor, ripped into a shred of fabric that no longer has any good use other than reminding you of how you could’ve avoided this entire situation. “I’ll get you better ones, don’t worry,” he reassures you in a humorous manner, and you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance.

Instead of having your hips jut out for easy access, he pushes your torso against the wall until there’s a pressure inside your stomach. Instead of pain, it’s a sort of tingling sensation that makes your eyes bulge out in shock. “Uhm...” you hesitate, and his ears perk up. “What is it?” he frustratingly asks you, and his harsh tone snivelling. “N- Nevermind,” you mumble, and you just try to take deep breaths. “Are you ever going to shut up?” Niki questions as his other hand skillfully unzips his red overalls.

He’s wearing a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the hot weather and occasional coolness. You keep quiet, not sure if you should answer him or not. Niki grumbles in another language that you don’t understand, and you realize that no matter what you do, you’ll always make him angry. Even your begging doesn’t bring you any fruits of labour. Only disappointment.

His shorts join the pile of clothing on the ground, many colours clashing that leave his eyes to be sore. Sunset pink panties, pale blue jeans, vibrant red overalls, and black shorts. It’s a fashionista’s worst nightmare. His hard cock is left in his boxers, and he’s just too impatient to fully undress. He throbs out of want and need, with a swollen tip that leaks with pre-cum. “I know this isn’t so… What’s the word you people use? ...Ah, romantic! I know this isn’t so romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m the only one who’s supposed to enjoy this, not you. So I don’t care if you want to fake a smile or anything like that, all you need to do is not say anything,” he explains, and you nod your head.

“O- Okay, Niki,” you assure, and he lets out a groan that is followed by his tongue clicking against his pearly teeth. “Dumb whore,” he spits, and his hand wraps around your throat. You’re inebriated beyond belief, and you don’t realize he can crush your windpipe in a split second until he whispers in your ear. “Can’t do one thing right, can you?” he retorts. The grip he has on your wrists suddenly loosens up, but you’re too sluggish to fight him. And even if you try, you’ll end up a pathetic loser with even less honour than before.

The fat tip of his large cock presses against your mildly slick pussy. “You’re already wet for me, kleine Maus! Oh, such a whore. You say you don’t want this, yet your little cunt is telling me otherwise. Maybe you should use it to think instead of your empty brain. You’d end up in better places if you did so,” he advises, and you try to tune him out. But he’s like an alarm that just won’t stop until you do something, and yet, you’re helpless. “Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu meiner Hure zu machen. Wie viel verlangen Sie? Einen Dollar? So oder so, du wirst von mir gefickt werden,” Niki snickers, and you have a feeling his words lack kindness.

But who the hell are you to worry about kindness?

Niki pushes his hips forward as his cock slowly sheathes itself inside of your tight pussy. The way you hug him makes him moan immediately, and he wonders if he’s the first you’ve ever had. “Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so right, kleine Maus,” he groans, slowly bottoming out inside of you. You’re biting down on your wobbly bottom lip, trying your hardest to keep quiet and not let out any cries. The pain is searing. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt, and it ingrains itself into your mind until it’s all but an illusion. You’re practically about to be torn in half from his cock, and you’re at an impasse.

The racer curses as his balls rest against your ass, heavy and swollen. He’s deep inside you, filling you up until you’re bursting and you don’t know what to focus on; the pressure in your stomach that just seems to grow with each passing second, or the pain that leisurely turns into pleasure you’ll be addicted to? Everything is so much all at once. “Feel that, kleine Maus? Do you feel how deep inside you I am? Good, because you’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, and you writhe around.

“So desperate already…” he whispers, watching as you can’t stand still at all. Niki’s hand leaves the base of his cock, as he thrusts his hips forward to elicit a reaction from you. He holds onto you tightly, and your body jerks from his movement. Your swollen stomach is pushed further against the wall, much to your dismay. You let out a gasp, and you try to close your legs as much as Niki will let you. He chuckles before he drags his cock backwards. His tip is the only thing inside you, and he suddenly begins to pump into you roughly. “Oh my God,” you whimper quietly, and your words are drowned out by the sound of skin against skin.

He thrusts up into you at a quick pace, one that your fingers or past lovers could never rival. It seems as though he’s fast when it comes to almost anything. “Die beste Muschi, die ich je hatte,” Niki whispers. Your pussy slickens up as he fucks you, coating him with your sticky wetness. The sight is something to behold, and his cock slips in and out of you with each thrust. “Make some pretty noises, kleine Maus. I want to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock,” he demands, and a loud moan moves past your lips without warning. It’s lewd and pornographic, yet it’s not as debauched as the sounds your wet pussy makes.

“Yeah, that’s more like it, hure,” Niki praises, and you mewl once his cock begins to touch that sweet spot of yours. It makes you go dizzy and hazy, and it also makes your legs weak. You involuntarily stop clenching your thighs together. Each thrust brings you against the wall, and you feel like you’re about to explode. Your pussy clenches down on Niki’s cock tightly, and his motions stutter. “Are you going to come already, my little slut?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts just to see you get frustrated. But the reaction you have is quite the opposite of what he wants, and he’s confused.

You let out a shaky breath that is filled with relief. You try to cross your legs together and push your ass backwards so that you’re far from the wall, even if it means that you’re closer to Niki. Your efforts don’t do much, and you want to wail in defeat. Niki observes you carefully before he shoves you back against the wall. You cry out before whispering a simple ‘please’ to him. He doesn’t realize what you’re talking about until he watches you place one of your hands on your stomach. You splay your fingers out delicately, and Niki chuckles.

The hold he has on your hips goes away, and he reaches for your hand. “Shh, it’s okay,” he reassures, and you furrow your eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Niki pulls his cock out of you until you’re an empty, gaping mess. Suddenly, he presses down on your bladder until warmth trickles down your legs, soaking the fabric at your feet. A few tears leak from your eyes, and Niki watches as you burn up with embarrassment and shame. The pain and pressure in your abdomen go away as you finally alleviate yourself.

“Dreckig, dreckig, kleine Maus,” he degrades, and you don’t have it in you to be offended. The streams of liquid eventually come to an end, and you’re so ashamed. You press your face against the wall and wait for Niki’s next word. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Zip, zilch, nada. Instead, he pulls his hand away from your stomach and uses it to silently guide his cock back to your drooling, aching hole. “Couldn’t help yourself, I know. It’s okay, it’s not entirely your fault, liebling,” Niki tells you, even though he’s more patronizing than comforting.

“Es ist nicht deine Schuld, dass du nicht weißt, wie man etwas richtig macht. Keine Manieren, keine Höflichkeiten... Ich verstehe, dass du so bist, aber ich bin hier, um dich zu ändern. Ich bin hier, um dir beizubringen, dass du unter mir stehst und dass du nichts anderes tun solltest, als meine Hure zu sein und mich zu verehren,” he continues, and you’ve decided to give up entirely. You forehead rests on the white brick, and Niki begins to fuck you roughly once again.

He pounds against your sweet spot relentlessly, not one error in his rhythmic thrusts. “Poor little thing acts all tough until it comes down to it… And now look at you, you’re a complete mess with my cock stuffed inside this perfect pussy,” Niki grunts, leaning his body forward. His chest is right up against your back, and his chin rests on your sweaty shoulder. Your white ribbon is a tangled mess, the two ends of it twisting together and falling in your face. The silk material is no longer cooling, and the styling purpose of it has lost its touch.

The plunges of his cock are more deep than quick, and each shove of his hips sends you spiralling in pleasure. “F- Fuck,” you moan, seeing stars in your vision as your legs twitch from overwhelming gratification. “Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock makes your pussy feel, kleine Maus?” he questions, and he further pushes his head down until his mentum digs into your skin. You wail loudly out of pain before nodding your head desperately. Niki squeezes the sides of your neck even more, but he also pushes down on your windpipe until you’re gasping for air.

You wheeze resoundingly, and the sound of you suffering for breath sends even more blood down to Niki’s pulsating cock. “Say it, tell me how much you love my cock and how much of a slut you are for me,” he demands, and you grasp at whatever’s left in your vocabulary. “I- I love your cock, Niki. I’m such a slut for you and your cock. You make me feel so good. I love your cock so much,” you pathetically mewl, and you can feel a form of tightening building up in you. Your lower abdomen burns up with searing flames, ones that trail all the way down to where you’re both connected.

You get wetter and wetter, more loud and desirous as your climax builds up. It’s like a staggering tower that reaches up to the sky and past the clouds; it has an end, but it keeps growing. “Are you going to come, kleine Maus? Are you going to come around my fat cock? I know you are. C’mon, do it,” Niki urges, and you moan his name loudly. “Do it, come on my cock right fucking now, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” he demands, and your back arches violently. You let out a gasp as your jaw goes slack. Red fills your vision, and you’re clamping down on his cock.

You moan his name loudly, and your juices coat his already sticky cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, digging your nails into your skin as you struggle to keep quiet like he ordered you to do. Your pussy spasms wildly, and your clit throbs, desperate for a few fingers to rub it. Your legs shake just a little bit, and you find yourself meeting Niki at his every thrust, desperate to keep going. Your ass moves backwards, and his hips move forwards, and the Austrian fucks you through your orgasm. Your nerves have sparks flying from them, and every part of you is sensitive.

“You’re so pretty when you come, kleine Maus. You look just like a desperate whore,” Niki grunts, and he can feel himself inching closer to his own climax. It’s like the light at the end of a tunnel or the chequered flag that usually waits for him at the race track before he’s announced to be the winner. “I’m gonna come inside you, kleine Maus, even if you don’t want me to. I’m going to fill you up with my seed and make you all nice and round. That way, you’ll know who you belong to, and you won’t be whoring around for the James Hunt you love so much,” he whispers in your ear, and you rapidly shake your head.

No, no, no, no.

“Yes, yes, yes, kleine Maus, you’re going to take my seed because I said so. Now stop fighting me,” he moans in your ear, and his thrusts grow sloppy and lazy. Niki shallowly fucks into you, and his balls begin to tighten up. His chest rises and falls, and he can feel his high beginning to climb up to the sky. Up, up, up, and away. Niki moans out the little pet name he’s applied to you, and he entirely shoves his cock inside you until he can’t move anymore. Growling, he comes inside you without a care in the world.

The raging, red tip of his fat cock is so deep. White ropes of his seed shoot into your womb, filling you up until you’re an upset, messy cumdump. “This is all you’re good for, kleine Maus,” Niki whispers in your ear, reminding you of your so-called place that he believes you belong in. His cum drips down your inner walls and leaks past his cock, and your fluids mix with each other. Niki’s cock twitches inside of you, but he remains as hard as a rock.

“Can’t wait to see you with my baby, kleine Maus. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when he sees you with me. Er wird so schockiert sein, dass sein Gesichtsausdruck unbezahlbar sein wird,” Niki laughs wickedly, and you can’t imagine you’ll ever meet anyone as cruel or as twisted as he is. “Can you get off of me now? I want to go home, and I want to stay as far away from you as I can,” you snap in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Nu-uh,” he tuts in a disciplinary manner. “You’re not going anywhere, kleine Maus,” Niki tells you. He tilts his head up until his lips touch the skin of your ear.

“I still have to celebrate my win with you, and I’ll make sure to push you to the limit, kleine Maus.”

[proserpina-magnus]

Hiiiiii could I request a Marauders x reader… platonic. Where they are just coaxing her through a bad day/migraine?

Hii! there isn't that much comforting other then them being clingy and sorta protective, but I still hope you like!!

The Marauders When You Have A Migraine

Word count; 1.8k

[ Warning: fem reader, doodles, eating, migraines/description of headaches, swearing, Sirius refers to you as “their baby” ]

Quick note, there’s a scene where the boys draw on the reader with a marker. I didn’t specify what colour the marker was, so depending on your skin colour you can interrupt the colour as you wish.

You slumped at the Gryffindor dining table, hair matted in a low messy hairstyle. You didn't even try and brush it out, you woke up and left it how it was. You couldn't even bring yourself to dress in new fresh clothing, you wore what you slept in.

Eyeing the breakfast options, you felt a pain tingle through your head. The nerves bunching and squeezing together to make it unbearable to concentrate.

" [ name ]! We have class in 15 minutes and you're not even dressed!" James bellowed from across the table, you pushed your shoes against the floor and slumped. Remus gave a confused look, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between Peter and Sirius.

"Come on, we have time to get some food in 'ya," Sirius declared, pushing toast onto your plate. The curly raven haired male even buttered your toast just the way you liked, even filling your glass with fresh squeezed orange juice.

"How 'ya feel-in?" Peter pronounced through mouthfuls of food, James swatting the blonds head in retaliation. "Wormy, don't speak with your mouth full,"

Sirius cackled from beside you, Peter stomped his foot onto Sirius in response. Sirius made a dramatic scene, falling towards the cold stone floor as he held his foot with forced shaky breaths. "My foot! My foot! I've been assaulted!" He whined, rolling from side to side.

Remus lets out a loud sigh from beside you, your head buzzing from the noise of ongoing chatter. You could hear James laugh loudly, like he always does. Usually his laugh was contagious, but it was incredibly annoying at the moment. Along with snickers and loud whines, you gripped your cup and brought it to your lips. Peter swallowed, reaching for another pancake as he watched you take long sips.

" ya never answered my question," Peter rambled before taking a gracious bite. You shrugged, Sirius sliding back into his seat. The boys all looked towards you, your fork picking at the blueberries Sirius pushed onto your plate moments prior.

"Another headache?" James asked, cleaning his pants from crumbs as he pushed his finished plate aside. You nodded briefly, a plain expression adorned on your features. Another hot buzz dangled in your mind, your forehead throbbing along with it.

"Maybe we should take you to madam Pomfry, you shouldn't be getting them this often," Remus responded. Sirius made a pouting face, before he took you into his arms.

"Our baby is hurt!" Sirius exaggerated loudly, causing staring eyes to look towards the group of friends. You flushed a bit, embarrassed by Sirius nature. You pushed him away, going back to picking at your food.

"I ain't nobody's baby," you said while pushing Sirius further away, James and Peter sniggered as Sirius made puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes, a bit grumpy from the constant throbbing.

"Bloody hell, it fucking hurts. It's not even bad, it's just the constant throbbing is pissing me off," you complained, shoving the piece of toast in your mouth. You watched as students finished eating, occasionally leaving for their first class of the day.

The boys all exchanged looks, Remus placing a hand on your back to give it a gentle rub. You push your plate back, your arms coming on the table as you rest in them.

As more students leave, professor Mcgonagall makes her way over to your rambunctious group. She softens at the scene, seeing the four boys rub your shoulder or arms to try and give their sympathy.

You sigh as you hear her shoes click with the ground, professor Mcgonagall stands a few inches away from you all. She clears her throat, all eyes directing towards her except for you.

"Class is about to start... is there a problem with miss [ last name ]?" The older woman asked, trying to mask her worry. Remus had explained earlier to her that you had been having numerous migraines.

"She's having another headache Minnie, our baby is dying!" Sirius exclaimed, Remus reaching over to swat him away from you with an annoyed look plastered on his face. Even though you couldn't see Sirius, you laughed as you thought about his whining face.

Professor Mcgonagall clasped her tongue, about to tell off Sirius for the nickname he'd given her. But instead, she placed her attention on you.

"I'll take her to the infirmary, surely madam Pomfrey has a potion to help," she explained, the boys all standing together in the same motion. You still kept your head pressed into your forehead.

"Can we go with her?" James whispered, hoping that they could be with you. They all hated when you were in pain, it felt like they had to protect you. You were their bestfriend, they surely couldn't let a thing ever bug you unless it was them.

"I'm sorry Potter, but you have class," Professor McGonagall frowned, the boys were about to protest to stay with you. But Minnie quickly shut them down, her hand raising as all the boys shut their jaws closed.

"It's alright, I'll see you later," you told them, raising with a throb as you walked with them all towards the doors. You parted way painfully, Sirius almost crying as he clung onto your leg. The rest of the boys watched, even James tearing up. He took his round spectacles off, dabbing his eyes with a spare cloth he had in his pocket.

"You can't be serious," you retorted at them, an annoyed look on your face as Minnie checked her watch with frowned eyes.

"Well... technically," Sirius began, but he couldn't finish his sentence as you kicked him off of you. You were upset, tired, and in pain. As much as you loved them, they were too much sometimes.

"Just go, I'll see you later," you tried to cover up your annoyed state, but the boys picked up on it. Sirius straightened up, fixing his shirt as they left with their heads down casted towards the ground.

"Idiots they are," you told Professor McGonagall, she only laughed and led you towards the infirmary.

—-

After a few missed classes, it was finally lunch. All the boys scrambled to the dining hall, shoving foods on plates. They ignored the stares, jogging up to the infirmary where you slept.

With the creak of the door, Sirius and James peaked inside. They saw no one, only a lump on the farthest bed. They all skipped over to you with slow whispers, trying to make sure you won’t wake up. Sirius pushed the blanket of your face, all of them relieved to see you still asleep.

“Prongs, do you have a spare marker on you?” Sirius asked, a growing smirk on his face. James put down the plate on a nearby table, fishing through his pockets to try and find a marker.

“Pads, no,” Remus said sternly, knowing what the raven haired male would do. Peter looked between the three boys, a bit unsure of what Sirius was going to do. The blonde boy put his plate near James, picking up half a sandwich as he sat near your feet.

“Pads yes,” Sirius smiled widely, James passing him the thick inked marker. Remus rolled his eyes, not stopping Sirius from his antics. Sirius crawled on the bed, an evil smile on his features as he unclasped the marker. He wrote “baby” with big thick letters on your forehead, giggling when you twitched and tried to swat his hand away in your sleeping state.

“Give me the marker,” James whispers, not waiting for Sirius to pass him it as he snatched it for himself. The bispecticle male drew 4 happy stick figures and a rat on your cheek, his tongue poked out in concentration.

“Why am I the only one in my amingi form?” Peter asked, frowning as James passed him the marker. He began to draw a small smiley face in your open palm, writing a messy “Peter was here” on your arm.

“Because, there wasn’t enough room and plus, you’re cuter in rat form,” James teased, but his words sounded very sweet so Peter took it as a compliment. Sirius and Remus cackled loudly, making you stir awake. Your eyes fluttered open, looking around between the boys above you.

“Uh… hello?” You greeted, stretching slightly as you looked around the empty room. Sirius pushed Peter and James away from the bed, sprawling his limbs out to hog you from their affection.

“Hi!” They all chanted at once, Remus moving closer as he pushed at Sirius to make room. The tall male sat down, rummaging through his bag for a minute before pulling out a chocolate bar.

“Eat,” Remus said, even opening the wrapper for you. He broke off a piece, swatting Sirius's wandering hand when he tried to take a piece for himself. You sat up on the bed, unaware of the markings on your skin. You chewed the gooey chocolate, resting against the bed frame with a satisfied hum.

“Did you bring me food?” You asked, a smile on your face as you realized all the plates. The boys nodded, bringing the plates over for you all to feast upon.

“What’s so funny?” You asked when Sirius started to laugh, James also chuckling. You irked slightly, touching over your face to try and see if there were crumbs. This made the boys laugh harder, making you feel embarrassed as you choke out a “what? Is there something on my face?”

You notice the little doodle Peter left you, realizing what had happened. You pushed Sirius's head, making him bump into James. You laughed at the scene, both boys rubbing their forehead with a pouty face.

“Does it come off?” You asked Remus, a sigh on your lips as you ran off towards the bathroom.

“Nope,” he called out, a small smile on his face. You looked in the mirror, seeing the obvious doodles drawn by your boys. You knew exactly who the culprit was for the big letters written on your forehead.

“Sirius! What the hell is this?” You called, stomping back to the bed where they all sat. Sirius raises his hands, pointing to James and Peter. “It’s not just me! They did it as well!”

“You bitch,” James gasped, a hand on his heart as he held a dramatic glint in his eyes. Peter dropped his head, muttering his apologies. All the boys start to bicker at Sirius, calling him a tattletale. You smile and lean back against the bed, bringing a biscuit to your mouth as you watch the quarrel unfold, this was definitely the entertainment you needed on this shitty day.

[nothing-but-haikyuu]

Punk Rock Daddy

Reader: F Character: Kei Tsukishima, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Rating: G Summary: Being a good dad is punk rock. Warning: Punk AU, Kids, Fluff Tip Jar 🍸 | Ask Box: Open | Commission Me!

Between volleyball and school, Tsukishima didn’t have a lot of time to see his daughter. Usually on weekends he tried to make time for the both of you.

You had Tamai pretty soon after high school. She was now three as you and Tsukishima were entering your final year of university. She followed her father around everywhere, she was starting to develop his stern look. But she was a shy little girl who hid behind her father when she was introduced to someone.

Most people thought Tsukishima looked intimidating, his tall stature, piercings and sleeve tattoo were all indicators that he was trouble. His piercing gaze and his no nonsense attitude didn’t help the situation either. But Tamai thought her daddy was the coolest person ever. Sometimes with washable markers she coloured in his tattoos on his arm. Usually not in the lines but Tsukishima just used it as an excuse to hold her in his arms.

 “Papa!” She cheered when he picked her up from preschool. The mothers of the other children often looked at him, how could someone who looked like that produce such a kind child? But as Tsukishima picked her up with ease and carried her, he knew that he was a good parent.

 “And then we did a whole bunch of colouring! And then we had a snack! We had cheese and apples, and it was so yummy. I had some of my lunch that you packed for me papa!” She rambled as the two of them walked to the bus stop.

Tamai was a lively child around her father, but mostly kept to herself when she was away from home. She always talked about how she wanted to be like her papa when she grew up, and even though

Tsukishima felt the gaze of passerbyers as they walked through town towards the stop. Tattoos were a symbol of trouble, of illegal activity and nefarious deeds. But with the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to expose most of the sleeve he had.

 “I bet you had a lot of fun.” He smiled as they crossed the street.

She nodded wildly and was eventually put down to the ground when they made it to the bus stop. Tsukishima took out his bus pass and she held onto his jean clad leg.

The blonde heard the whispering of two women with strollers nearby. He rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to ignore them. What he would give to have people not stare at him like a spectacle, especially when he was with his daughter.

 “Papa.” Her little voice cut through his thoughts, “When is the bus coming?”

He smiled at her gently, “Why don’t you check the sign, honey. But come right back.” He wasn’t known for being nice, but he’d make the exception for her three year daughter. He looked over to the two women nearby and glared at them.

He would show them, he would be the best dad out there. Better than their sniveling husbands.

Having a four year old daughter was a task in itself, especially the summer before starting school. But Yamaguchi was more than happy to look after her while you were at work, taking some of the pressure off your parents.

You were young parents, and both trying to balance work, school and your daughter, Inai. Yamaguchi loved his little daughter, he loved spending time with her, going out to town with her, and seeing his little daughter grow right before his eyes. Even if some other parents gave slight glances at his appearance.

Heavily tattooed with a dyed undercut and snake bite piercings. It was fine for class and the homo electronics store he worked at, but not the best when walking around town with a four year old girl.

 “I want tattoos like daddy!” Inai said after breakfast on the day he was minding her.

 “You’re too young, princess.” He said as he took her plate and put it in the sink to be washed later.

 “But daddy has so many of them. It’s not fair, I want some too!” She pouted, crossing her arms across her small chest.

He sighed as he washed the plate, “I’m sorry, honey but I can’t give you any tattoos. You’re too small and still have a lot growing to do. Daddy got his when he was much older.” And placed the plate in the strainer.

She whined loudly and dropped her head onto the table, “it’s not fair.”

He dried his hands and picked her up so she was facing him, “I know something we can do instead.”

She perked up at the prospect of a solution. Maybe she would get cool tattoos like her daddy, “What!” She chirped.

He smiled at her, “I think we have some left over temporary tattoos from halloween last year. We can put some of those on your arm so you’ll be like daddy.”

She gave a shocked expression before she beamed at her father. She squealed in happiness as he carried her over to the kitchen counter. He placed her on top of it and opened the junk drawer, inside was the standard old coupons, paper clips and rubber bands. But at the bottom were a small handful of temporary tattoos from last halloween.

He got a paper towel and started to apply the tattoos to his daughter’s skin. Dabbing the wet paper towel to the sticker like tattoo would stick to her skin. He lined them up carefully on her, making them look as close to her father’s array of tattoos.

She was beyond pleased with herself, she was getting tattoos like her father. When Yamaguchi finished, she squealed in happiness. Her father helped her off the counter and back to the floor.

 “Can we go to the park now? I wanna show off my tattoos like daddy!” She pointed to one of the jack-o-lantern tattoos.

Yamaguchi chuckled and said, “Of course. Now why don’t you get ready and we’ll go to the park together.” He then beamed at his daughter.

She in turn gave him a bright smile as well and rushed upstairs to get ready. Yamaguchi continued to smile as he went back to the sink to finish washing the dishes.

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[omniscientwreck]

Hello! For the imtimacy prompt list #30 for Shadowgast🖤💜

Hello! This was the prompt I was most hoping someone would ask me so THANK YOU for that! If anyone else would like to make a request I have one left in my inbox and am always happy to do more, especially for this list! Here is the post in question!

As a side note: welcome to the version of Caleb and Essek from my no rules no angst just right Carly Rae Jepsen song lyric inspired College!AU in a modern fantasy kinda setting. This just feels most to me like the version of Essek and Caleb that would do this and it gives you a bit of insight into the tone of my BIG work in progress right now! Enjoy!

30: doing beauty treatments, like facials or manicures, hair dying or face masks

Essek has long stopped knocking before entering Caleb, Beau and Jester’s apartment, but he still likes to call out his arrival though he knows Caleb is the only one home.

Jester and Beau have gone back home for a few days, visiting Jester’s mother in Nicodranas. Caleb elected to stay behind saying he had too much work to do, which is true. Essek finds him in his room, still as much a mess as it was the last time he was here. The small desk is completely covered in books all with several markers placed in their pages and the mess spills onto the bed. Caleb is ‘sitting’ on the chair containing most of his clothing and doesn’t appear to realize he’s come in.

He drops his levitation, trying to make noise so he doesn’t startle Caleb too badly as he approaches from behind and smooths his hands from his shoulders down to his hands. Caleb looks up as Essek’s chin presses into the top of his head, “Drogi, when is the last time you ate anything?”

Without hesitation, “Around elven, I’ll take a break soon I’m on the edge of something here.”

Essek sighs, “Darling it’s nearly six, I brought food, just take a break now with me?” He watches Caleb place a marker in the book to save his space and he finishes a few thoughts in the literature review before standing and smiling wearily at him.

“Ja, a break is probably a good idea. Thank you Schatz.” He stands and for a moment Essek lets Caleb distract him by wrapping strong arms around his waist and pulling him in for a kiss.

Essek has been looking forward to this particular date for a while and finally got the chance to suggest it, surprised when Caleb agreed with little hesitation.

It had started a few days ago when Caleb had slept over. He’d watched Essek’s skin care routine and had begun asking questions which led to the confirmation of Essek’s theory that Caleb has never so much as moisturized his face, much less done any of the other pampering that Essek considers central to his sense of well-being.

Tonight, Essek gets to show Caleb what it’s like. After they finish eating, they wind up in the bathroom. Essek pulls out a massive bag full of creams, ingredients, washes and all kinds of products. “Sit.”

“Essek, I need to see the mirror to shave.” He presses Caleb’s shoulders and sits him on the closed toilet lid shaking his head, “Caleb, you are taking a break. Let me.”

Drow are not immune to facial and body hair. Essek has never had much but Verin always has. One time when Verin was particularly injured in early adulthood Essek had to learn how to shave him during recovery. He has someone else for that now, so Essek transfers his knowledge to Caleb.

He gently spreads a soft cream across his partner’s face with the gentle touch of a brush and he pulls out a straight razor, the only possession he has from his father. Carefully and gently he shaves Caleb’s face, dragging the razor across tawny stubble while the man sits beneath him with closed eyes, completely trusting.

It doesn’t take as long as he’d thought it would and he’s able to begin gently washing his lover’s face, humming as he goes, occasionally singing in undercommon. Caleb looks more at rest than Essek has every seen him, sighing every so often as Essek exfoliates, washes and tones his skin. He steps back and instinctively Caleb goes to touch his face. Looking in the mirror the main difference is calm and peace. “Okay now this is the fun part.”

Essek mixes up two small cups of ingredients, one is his proprietary blend for his own skin, one that he thinks will suit Caleb more, “Ok now trust me. We’re going to leave these on for 15 minutes. I’ll do yours, you can do mine. As revenge.”

Caleb’s eyebrows quirk in confusion as Essek begins slathering the face mask onto his pale skin and then grimaces at the cold unfortunate texture of the mask. “Ah ja I see what you mean, this helps? In some way?”

Essek nods, “It will help tone out some of the redness and smooth out other things. I promise it will be worth it.”

“I trust you.” Essek smiles and puts a dollop on the tip of Caleb’s nose and the fake scowl that follows is delightful and adorable.

“You shouldn’t.” Essek winks and flashes fangs at the other and Caleb grabs the cup of Essek’s mask and boldly smears it over his forehead in protest. A shiver goes down his spine, he hates this part but it’s more fun with Caleb.

They go into the living room and put on one of the old movie musicals Caleb is so fond of and Essek starts on Caleb’s hands. “I won’t do anything extravagant I promise. You can just do a top coat if you’d like, but I did bring most of my collection if you’d like to look.”

Caleb opens the deceptively small case and shakes his head fondly upon the realization it’s enchanted to hold more than one would expect. “All this enchantment for nail lacquer?”

Essek scoffs, “Of course, you don’t want to know how much room this would take up if I had to lay it all out in the apartment.”

Caleb hums along to the music as Essek works, taming and shaping the nail beds that have been left to their own devices for decades and Essek finds himself distracted by romantic songs and well choreographed dance numbers occasionally. Far more distracting is the beauty of Caleb’s baritone singing along to a style of music Essek is unfamiliar with, warm and low and full of love as he looks down at Essek’s meticulous work.

He ends up with an iridescent top coat, just a little bit of flair but subtle enough most won’t notice. Midway through they pause to rid themselves of the face masks and Essek removes the mixture for Caleb and then for himself so as to not mess up his own work. He smooths on some moisturizer for Caleb, ever patiently sitting with his eyes closed. “How does that feel perełko?”

“Good, it’s very cool, my skin feels… fresh?”

“Take a look for yourself.” Essek smiles, it isn’t a miracle by any means but some of the redness of Caleb’s face is brought down just a bit, giving more prominence to the scattering of delicate freckles across the bridge of his nose and it’s smooth and fresh.

“I can see the merits of this.” he says, in slight awe, feeling this skin of his face.

“Now, let me finish your hands so I can do mine.”

He finishes Caleb’s hands with moisturizer and a good long massage, and starts to work on his own, removing the customary black polish he usually keeps there, Caleb’s arm around his shoulders, watching him work. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Essek considers, “Well I’ll shape on my own. Would you like to pick a colour for me? I’m tired of black. You can do the last step as well.” Caleb is back looking into the nail polish case and, rather quickly, presents him with a deep burgundy.

“How’s this? I just think it would look good.”

Essek presses a kiss into his forehead, “Perfect, thank you darling.” He goes back to shaping his nails to fine points and applying a base coat. As he begins to apply colour Caleb watches him intently, focus on the movie lost. “Would you like to help with his?”

He blushes a bit, “I do not think I would be very good at it and I don’t want to ruin your hard work.”

Essek laughs, “You won’t ruin anything. Here, watch me do my right hand and you can do my left. It’ll help me immensely. Any mistakes you make can be cleaned up with little effort I promise.”

Caleb is better at this than either of them expected. Only a little varnish makes its way to Essek’s skin and that’s easily enough removed, he even flips Essek’s hand as he’d done his own to apply the polish underneath. Then, when it’s dry, he rubs the stress away from Essek’s hands and they share many looks as a second musical begins playing. They pay little attention to it, instead giving in to the quiet comfort of the evening, of learning to care for another and yourself. Caleb has all but forgotten his previous state of anxiety for the evening and Essek hopes he’ll let him do this again. “Thank you for this liebling I needed this more than I could have guessed.”

Essek is pressed to his side now as they drink tea and finish up a horror movie, “I am glad my love. Thank you for letting me share this with you. If you ever want it again all you have to do is ask.” Caleb nods and over time they both fall asleep on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, waterlogged with the quiet, weighty bliss of love.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really. 

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

        No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

        Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible. 

       Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice. 

        January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

        Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California. 

        Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

        Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

        “We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

        “Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to. 

        It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.  

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option. 

        As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

        Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

        It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

        It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

        But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight. 

        Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air. 

        Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow. 

        He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one. 

        “Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

        And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

        She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

        “This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

        Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

        “Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

        But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

        “Harry.”

        Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her). 

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

        “I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

        “Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

        “I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips. 

        She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

        “Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

        “Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

        “What more does a person need?”

        “Exactly!”

        Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

        “I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

        Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

        “Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

        Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

        “See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

        That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

        “I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

        If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

        “Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

        He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

        “Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

        “But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

        Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

        “Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

        And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

        “It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

        “Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

        “Opposites attract.”

        “No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

        He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

        “I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

        “Do you love me?”

        Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

        “Then that’s all I need.”

         “Is that really enough for you?”

        “Yes.”

        And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

        Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

        “Haz…”

        Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

        He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

        His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

        “S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

        “Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

        “Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

        ‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

        “ ‘Ello?” 

        Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

        “Now?”

        She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

        With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

        “Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer. 

        “Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

        “ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

        There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

        The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

        And Harry guessed this was the third time.

        He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N. 

        “It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

        “I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

        “I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

        “ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

        “Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

        “Yeah.”

        And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. 

        He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway. 

        The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

        “Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

        With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

        And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

        What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’ 

        Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

        She closed the door.

        And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

[slightlymore]

please feed us some doyoung fluff, we starving 😭

words: 975

fluff, dy

"Do you and uncle Doyoung also kiss?"

Sat down on said man's childhood house floor, you felt your eyes widen and cheeks heat up at the little boy's words. Doyoung, in the same position as you at your right, let out a surprised and nagging huff.

"Hey, that's not something you can just ask," he ruffled the child's hair.

Doyoung's nephew shrugged his small shoulders with a pout and continued assembling the colourful Legos you gifted him for his birthday.

"Mom and dad kiss often because they love each other."

You chuckled and eyed Doyoung's sunlit face with the corner of your eyes. He was amused but dumbfounded at the same time as his lips were open trying to say something back but not knowing which words to choose from.

His nephew interrupted him.

"Do you love uncle Doyoung?" the boy raised his big eyes to look at you again, taking you both by surprise a second time. You tightened your lips together, Doyoung's gaze burning your face, and looked at your hands in the lap as they started to smooth imaginary wrinkles on your summer dress.

"I do love him. But we haven't kissed yet," you replied honestly with a tiny voice and the boy looked satisfied but when he looked at Doyoung he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Uncle Doyoung. I think you should kiss Y/N," he shared with a cute but serious voice. You laughed, covering your mouth with one hand and Doyoung blinked while scratching the back of his head.

---

You ignored the quick glances Doyoung kept throwing at you afterwards as you played with his brother's baby boy.

"Please come, he'll love you," Doyoung said a few days prior to that, inviting you to the little party.

You shifted your weight side to side, one hand tugging at your backpack.

"I'm not sure. That sounds like a very intimate reunion. I'm just…," but Doyoung talked on top of you.

"A dear friend. I would have died in this college room if it wasn't for you forcing me to eat three meals a day," he smiled warmly. "Besides, you've already met my brother and his family once. They also insisted on you to come."

The summer break was the second most sad period of the year after Christmas. Unable to go home for the holidays, you would roll on your bed for days until it was time to start the uni classes again. Doyoung was delicate enough to not bring up your loneliness or family problems. But he was also kind enough to ask you to spend time with his family instead, masking his consideration for "we can have free drinks" so that you can laugh and say that "Doyoung, it's a toddler's birthday".

Now, listening to his family hyper chatter all around the barbecue, the smell of the food caressed your nostrils, coming through the big open windows of the living room, you were glad that you accepted to come.

"Y/N! It's read-," Doyoung budged inside the house but you were quick to shush him.

He stopped in place for a moment and took in the view of his nephew asleep in your arms. You smiled at him and you both looked at the boy's peaceful expression for a little while.

"Here, I'll put him to sleep," Doyoung then whispered and knelt in front of you extending his hands, wrapping the child's body with his arms and pulling him softly to his chest.

You looked at the man's smiling face as he turned around then at his back and had to inhale and exhale slowly, calming the butterflies in your stomach, just like you've been doing for the past few months. When you couldn't see him anymore you looked at your hands and smiled seeing the hard work you and Doyoung's nephew put into drawing with multi-coloured markers.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of him all afternoon."

You jolted a little at the sound of his voice and jerked your face towards the bathroom entrance where Doyoung stood, one shoulder resting on the door, arms crossed on his chest and a peaceful expression. You smiled back and turned the water off before grabbing a towel and drying your wet hands.

"It's fine. I enjoyed myself," you assured him.

"He likes you a lot," and something in Doyoung's tone made you stop your motions and look at his face again. His eyes were dark and his cheeks slightly pink from being outside. You couldn't stare too much though and you soon found yourself shifting glances all around the room.

"I like him a lot too. He's a very sweet boy."

Then the silence engulfed you both.

"Come here," Doyoung ordered softly.

You felt your mouth dry but walked the few steps separating you from him, unsure of what he wanted. The man slid one hand around your waist and put the other on your jaw, slowly cupping your cheek making your breath hitch. He stared at you from underneath his fringe as if asking permission and you closed your eyes with trembling lids, fingers grabbing the shirt on his shoulders as he placed his lips on yours.

He smelled like clean cotton under sun rays and you smiled into the kiss, realizing that you've unconsciously attributed that scent to home and safety.

"Was that the truth?", Doyoung's breath tickled your lips when he pulled away.

It was obvious what he referred to. You rubbed your cheek onto his palm and he held you even closer.

"Of course. Do you lie to children?"

"Of course, I lie to children," he chuckled when you lightly hit his chest.

"Now I can be honest with him as well," Doyoung added with a more serious tone and you tilted your head to the side as if questioning him what that meant.

"Now I can tell him that I do kiss you too because I love you."

[the-voltage-diaries]

You’re my Mocha Lisa - Eisuke Ichinomiya

Disclaimer: Coffee Shop AU. Also has shameless self insertion. It’s basically an indulgence on my part lmao.

Word count: 1860

Author’s Note: Congrats on the 1K, @leoamber66​​​! Here’s a li’l something as my congrats~ Also, thank you @akaiiro-yume​ for proof-reading this at like the last second LOL. P.S. Thank you for just like... existing. You pulled me out of my writer’s block every time, leove. Every time I couldn’t write, I remember you doing something - ANYTHING - which made me wanna write for you. And for that, I’m eternally grateful. Love ya.

“Are you certain?” I ask, dubious. I raise my brows at the woman standing on the opposite end of the counter for good measure while I wait for a reply.

Yuki - and I know her name not because I’m a stalker but because she comes here every morning, just saying - looks from her thoroughly rummaged purse up at me and blinks once.

Cute. Very cute.

“Absolutely,” she nods just as her fingers start sorting through the bills again. This woman has no idea how badly I hoped she was kidding, does she.

“So... a grande cup of black coffee. Will that be all?” I might seem all cool and calm on the face, but on the inside, it’s like I’m praying to her conscience to at least order a chocolate pastry to go along with this disaster. Or like a cookie. Heck, I’ll even give it to her for free.

“Yep.” She looks up again and smiles, and I can’t help but notice the way her heels don’t really do much to hide how adorably short she is. I find it almost endearing, the way she has to look up at me every time she needs to say something. It makes me want to ask her more questions just to get her to do that.

Wait. What am I even thinking? Focus on the damn order, Ichinomiya.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” she begins while handing me the change, “how long have you been working here? I think I’ve seen you around ever since I started coming to this place.”

My brow twists into an uncertain furrow at that, not used to receiving any personal questions from her. I pause, tearing away her copy of the receipt, and take a glance around to make sure there’s nobody else to whom the question could have been directed. Much to my relief, there aren’t any other customers waiting in line, possibly because it’s still very early in the morning and the cafe is pretty quiet, to interrupt what could potentially be our small conversation.

But apparently, I take too long to reply and Yuki takes it as a sign that she’s tried to cross an invisible boundary. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable, of course,” she hurriedly adds, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear in embarrassment. 

“That’s alright. And to answer your question, I’ve been working here since the place was established,” I answer honestly, without missing a beat. But god do I hope she doesn’t try to probe any further into what I said. That’d be a little embarrassing.

“That long? Wow...”

I scoff quietly, smiling. While she bites her lip with her eyes swimming in a pool of faraway wonder, I turn around to get started on her coffee. A certain calm descends between us, with just some light music playing in the cafe.

“It must be nice,” she mutters a little later, mostly to herself before speaking louder. “Being the only employee here, I mean. It’s so quiet in the morning. Feels calming, doesn’t it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

On the inside, I wince at the nonchalance of my response. I’d have loved to correct her that ‘No, I’m not the only employee here,’ but that’d make the explanation a little awkward.

Why? You’ll come to know soon.

After that, we fall into another quiet bubble of our own, and soon enough, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts along with the air, touching every little cranny of the space it manages to cross.

If only I could add some damn milk into this bitter concoction...

Once the black coffee is read in all its biting glory, I pick up the marker to write her name on the cup. “Oh! It’s Yu-”

“Yuki, right?” I cut her off, smirking. “My memory is not so bad as to not remember the name of the one person who recites it every morning to me, you know?”

“O-oh... right..”

One glance in her direction is all it takes for me to catch an embarrassed red pop across her cheeks, and she bites her lip adoringly, directing her gaze away. I know I’ve said it before, but I find this woman absolutely adorable and her blush is probably the icing on the cake.

So, I decide to prod a little further.

“I hope you find it in you to actually finish this today,” I wink, handing her the warm cup. “It does take some effort to make, after all.”

“What... What do you mean?” She questions and I don’t miss the way her blush deepens. She knows what I’m talking about.

“Mm, I wonder.”

“Hey, I like black coffee, okay!”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well,” I shrug, “I don’t exactly blame you.”

She gives up and huffs - of course, I find it endearing - and sits down at a table nearby, taking out her mobile to text someone - it better not be a boyfriend- wait why do I even care - with the drink in hand. I know what’s about to happen in less than a second and I keep an eye on her, thoroughly prepared to savour every second of it.

Yuki takes a sip of her drink and, almost immediately, makes a face like that of Baby Yoda provided he sucked on a lemon. It’s weird and shows blatant disgust. “Pfft,” I scoff, amused, but not loud enough for her to hear me.

The reason why I predicted this would happen is because she has been coming to the cafe and ordering black coffee every morning for the last three weeks, but every single time I catch her making weird faces as she sips it. Every single one of those times when I leave to check my mails, I come back to an empty cafe with a half-finished cup of coffee in her place.

I wonder, is she trying to look mature or something?

I’m still watching her quietly but reluctantly sip her drink when the door chimes, welcoming a new customer. The woman walks straight past the order station and to Yuki’s table once she spots her and sits down, sending a quick greeting her way.

Oh, so the one she was texting earlier was a friend.

Wait, why do I care again?

“So,” the friend begins, and I can’t help but overhear what she says. “Have you asked him out yet?” At that, my ears perk up. Asked who out?

“Would you be quiet!” Yuki whispers, glaring. She’s all fidgety and blushing.

“You haven’t, huh?” the friend smirks. “I saw him, he’s hot. Be quick, or he’s gonna be off the market soon.”

“Zela!”

“I’m being honest.”

“I know...” I pretend to wipe some of the glasses kept nearby when I catch her sending a quick glance my way, but my eyes or ears don’t divert their attention. “But what if he already has a girlfriend?”

For some reason when I hear the touch of desperation in Yuki’s voice, I feel a mild jealousy bite at me. After all, who IS this guy she wants to ask out?

“His name was Eisuke, right?” the friend, Zela, asks and for a second, I cease all movement. 

Was that my name I heard?

“Shut UP, he’ll hear you!” Yuki whisper-shouts, and I wait with bated breath for her to continue. “But.. yeah.. that’s the name.”

“Damn, the name’s just as hot.”

“ZELA!”

“WHAT?! I’m just appreciating the goods. Unlike a certain someone.”

The friends continue their banter, but I’m much too distracted by what Yuki said earlier to pay heed to it. My name isn’t so common, and I’m about a hundred percent sure I heard my name.

Does that mean she wants to ask me out?

The thought makes me smile, and I register the reason why I didn’t want her to have a boyfriend. I’ve been taking her order every morning, making an attempt to see her every single morning since the first time three weeks ago because I want to see her, even if it’s for a handful of minutes. I find her cute, and I definitely would want to see more of that gorgeous blush swim across those supple cheeks.

Wait, is that creepy? I hope not.

The realisation that she has an interest in me is a happy one, and I scoff at myself, waiting for her friend to leave her for like ten seconds for me to make use of this opportunity.

And apparently, the universe agrees because just then Zela gets up and walks over to the restroom, finally leaving Yuki alone. I quickly brew another cup of coffee and add the milk I’d been dying to add with three cubes of sugar. I walk over to her with the cup in hand, and she looks up in confusion. “Allow me to treat you to a much better coffee. Today, 6:30 PM in front of the Tres Spades.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” She mumbles and she absentmindedly grabs the cup.

“I’m asking you out on a date. That’s what’s going on,” I wink, and just then the cafe door chimes for the second time. "I better see you there, Yuki.”

“O-oh...” Another wave of red colours her cheeks before she takes a deep breath and looks at me, right in the eyes. “You will see me there, Eisuke,” she smiles.

“Glad to hear it.”

I turn around with a smile and see Zela coming back out of the restroom in my periphery. My gaze shifts to the person who walked into the cafe just moments ago, and I acknowledge him with a nod when I realise it’s another employee.

“Good morning, Mr. Ichinomiya,” he mutters, bowing his head a little.

“Wait, Ichinomiya?” 

The split confusion makes me look down at the ground with a smirk while I untie the apron and set it on one of the tables. I stay still, patiently waiting for the dots to connect in her head.

“Isn’t this cafe owned by the Ichinomiya Corp-”

Heh. About time.

“Oh god. Are you THE Eisuke Ichinomiya?” She whispers, shock lacing her tone like the most avid of blues. “Like, the owner of this place?” At that, I turn my head to look at her.

“Welcome to Ichinobeanya. I hope to see you again soon.” My lips curve up in a half-smile when I see how awed she looks, and without wasting another second I grab my jacket and make my way towards the door, sincerely hoping to see her again in the evening. “Don’t forget your promise.”

I’m pretty sure I hear her mumble, “I won’t...”

And it’s when I’m almost out of the door and onto the street when I think I hear Zela say “He gave you this new coffee, didn’t he? See, I’ve been telling you, you don’t need to drink that yucky black coffee to impress him!" 

An embarrassed "Shut up Zela!" is the last to reach my ears as I finally close the door behind me with a laugh, looking forward to the evening with an excitement akin to that of a child.

[crispyjenkins]

Somehow!adopted by a true mandalorian before Galidraan/korda six Obiwan.. so like raised mandalorian Obiwan with Jango/Jaster leading Mandalore

(mmmmf okay I love this sort of au and i tried my best to make it as different as possible from stories that already exist (specifically @atelier-dayz's WiP Ben'bajur) and I've thrown in some good women Mandos because they deserve to be written more. some stuff in timeline has been moved around and you get trans Obi just for funsies *kissu* i make several references to this post’s discussion of mental and physical illness in Mando culture. i um. spent a lot of time thinking about what colour Obi’s beskar’gam would be. i have a lot of feelings about it. **Ruusaan Kryze’s name and fancast/design belong to @amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone from this, thank you so much for letting me use them!)

  Jango had not mentally prepared himself to see Obi-Wan again, though to be fair, he hadn’t known he needed to.

  The last time he’d seen Ruusaan’s foundling, Obi-Wan had been sixteen and wiry and spitfire in all the wrong ways, with half-complete beskar’gam and a chip on his shoulder a planet-wide. If he remembers correctly, Obi-Wan had called him an arrogant laserbrain with a junk blaster, and Jango had almost challenged him to an honor duel. But when Jango finally makes his way back to Mandalore after seven— Wait, no, eight years?— abroad as a supercommando, both Ruusaan and Obi-Wan are at Jaster's war table, bent over a holomap of the system and talking calmly as you please. 

  And Obi-Wan is in full beskar'gam, plating painted entirely silver except the yellow clan crest on his left pectoral, and the yellow Mando'a 'ures haal', breathless, lettered on his ghet'bur above his collarbone. He looks up as Jango enters and blinks in surprise, straightening to reveal his helmet under his arm, also silver except the rises of the cheeks.

  Ruusaan breaks into a smile, and for all the trouble Obi-Wan had caused when younger, Jango can’t imagine his childhood without the former Kryze and all she had done for the Haat Mando’ade at the Battle of Galidraan. She’s been following Jaster since she was old enough to denounce her clan, an honorary Mereel even if she thinks herself unworthy of such a connection to her Mand’alor; Jango wonders if she had finally decided on a clan name, if both her and Obi-Wan are painted with a new crest.

  For all the loving buir Jaster is, he doesn’t drag things out, and after a quick hug, he pulls Jango into their discussion of relief aid to Concordia after the latest Death Watch insurgence as if Jango had never left. Ruusaan quickly picks up their easy friendship, closer to siblings than superior and subordinate, but Jango absolutely does not know what to do with Obi-Wan’s new calm cadence, the confidence and knowledge that he’s picked up in Jango’s absence. 

  He’s surprisingly been running relief missions for Jaster for the last five years, when he isn’t busy taking commando missions with Ruusaan. Obi-Wan gets flustered when his buir mentions this, and Jango wonders what in Sith Hells had happened while he was gone to make Obi-Wan settle down so much from his youth.

  His newly-flat chest probably has something to do with it.

  Perhaps it isn’t surprising, then, that Obi-Wan somehow wrangles Jango onto the squad of commandos headed for Concordia, Ruusaan smirking in delight as Jango resigns himself to suffering for the next tenday at least. Obi-Wan just claps him on the shoulder before disappearing into the halls of Jaster’s estate, and something in Jango aches at just how much of his armour is silver, at the sort of intention that went into an almost monochrome set of beskar’gam. Perhaps not much had actually changed, then.

-

  He should have known any mission to Concordia would go to kriffing hell, especially with Duke Kryze ramping up his antagonism of Death Watch like it won’t be the Haat Mando’ade that pay the price. 

  What should have been a simple drop-off of medical supplies to a few refugee groups turns into a firefight with Kyr’tsad, Ruusaan missing her thigh guards and Jango down a blaster, and all three of them ducking into the first empty ship in the guest hangar in hopes of losing their tail. 

  Ruusaan slams the button for the door, Jango aiming his remaining blaster at the catwalk until they’re safely ensconced in the dark of some other Mando’s ship, straining their ears for the sound of anyone still following them. Pulling off her helmet, Ruusaan checks the lifesign reader she keeps in her gauntlet, and then grumbles something about interference that doesn’t fill Jango with confidence. He pulls up his comm to try and contact the nearest Haat Mando’ad, but doesn’t get the chance before a wet wheeze rattles the silence of the cargo bay and Ruusaan whips around with a horrified,

  “Obi-Wan.”

  She rushes to Obi-Wan’s side, where he leans one hand onto the nearest wall in an effort to keep upright, and oh, Jango had forgotten just how harrowing this was. 

  Ruusaan removes Obi-Wan’s helmet with practiced ease, setting it aside to pull a rag from one of his belt pouches, holding it to his bleeding nose as she tilts his head forward. Kriff, but Jango hasn’t seen Ruusaan need to use the Force on her foundling since Obi-Wan was a kid, though he knows it must have happened more often behind closed doors. The years since he’s had to stand by and watch Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs has only made it that much harder to stomach. 

  Only Jaster knows the whole story of how Obi-Wan had ended up with Ruusaan, just what infection had festered in his lungs before she found him that had ruined him for the rest of his life. Jango has heard rumours that he had been on Melida/Daan during the civil war, that Ruusaan had taken a job from the Young and left with a sick foundling, that his system had been so damaged that he can’t handle a transplant. And Jango’s seen it before, Obi-Wan’s lungs suddenly failing and scaring the osik out of every Mando present, even if they had made note of the marker on his collar. 

  By some sort of Force miracle, Obi-Wan had been found by one of the only Force-sensitive Mando’ade that Jango has ever heard of, with just enough power to force her ad’s respiratory system back to rights, almost as if she had been meant to find him.

  Obi-Wan coughs as Ruusaan presses one hand to the front of his chest, the other between his shoulder blades; Jango feels almost dizzy with something that feels too close to worry, the hair on his neck standing up at the swell of the Force in the tiny cargo bay. 

  “K’atini,” Ruusaan whispers, pressing her forehead to Obi-Wan’s temple with a touch of desperation. “K’atini, ad’ika, breathe.” A beat of tense quiet, but then— 

  “K’atini,” Obi-Wan wheezes back, and Jango lets out the breath he’d been holding. Ruusan laughs wetly, pulling back just enough to finish wiping under his nose, and brushes his hair back with her free hand; Jango feels a ping of jealousy, but forces it to the background, at least until they can get back to Mandalore.

  “We need to get back to the ship,” Ruusaan says to Jango, all while Obi-Wan won’t meet his eye. “He’ll be fine for a while, but I can’t give him what oxygen he’s lost.”

  Now this, this Jango can do. He can step up and lead, protect those that are his aliit in everything but name, because this is action, and not just standing there watching someone’s body give up on them. “You good to run?” Jango asks on external comm, Obi-Wan looking to his buir before giving a short nod. Ruusaan purses her lips, but nods as well and stoops to pick up her helmet. 

  “Not for long,” she warns, giving Obi-Wan his own before setting her hand back between his shoulderblades. “But the Force is telling me there’s no one outside; we move now.”

  Jango trusts Obi-Wan to Ruusaan and swiftly leads the way back into the hangar, taking them through two halls and across a catwalk to get to their own ship’s berth; Obi-Wan punches in the key for the door, and lets Jango pull him up into the ship without complaint. Ruusaan is the best pilot out of the three of them, but Jango climbs into the cockpit to start the pre-flight sequence so she can get Obi-Wan set up in the single-bed medbay, because kriff if Jango would know where to start. 

  Ruusaan joins him in the cockpit just before take off, some of Duke Kryze leaking through in her stony expression as she drops into the open seat. “Jango,” she says, surprisingly calm for the situation, “please go make sure my utreekov of an ad doesn’t leave the medbay.”

 Technically Ruusaan has been Haat Mando’ade longer than Jango, but she isn’t that much older than him, and he’s the son of the Mand’alor, so she shouldn’t be able to order him around like one of her foundlings. But Jango is also a warrior, and he knows when to pick his battles, so he simply nods and lets her get them out of the hangar.

  The medbay is little bigger than a closet, and like most, there's just enough equipment for emergencies, but Ruusaan and Obi-Wan had retrofitted theirs to include a proper ventilator and oxygen tank, as well as a bacta vaporizer Jango has never seen outside of high end Kaledevan hospitals. Luckily Obi-Wan seems resigned to his fate, propped up in the little alcove bed and holding an oxygen mask over his face. He glances up, but only gives Jango a nod and an apologetic smile. 

  “How often does that happen?” Jango musters the courage to ask, leaning on the doorjamb. Obi-Wan laughs tiredly, his mask fogging as he thumps his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. 

  “Not as much as before,” he says vaguely, his voice still a rasp. “The surgery helped.”

  If he’s still dealing with kriffing dying on a monthly basis, Jango is thoroughly impressed he’s been able to serve so close to Jaster for so long, and kriff knows Jaster isn’t soft, so Jango knows whatever space Obi-Wan occupies with the Mand'alor is earned, no matter who his buir is. It seems Jango’s missed quite a lot, off exploring the stars.

  Obi-Wan gets a little smile, then, dropping his hand but not opening his eyes. “If I recall... the last time we spoke alone like this—”

  “You called me a laserbrain and told me my blaster was sub-par.”

  He barks out a laugh that’s more like a cough, trying to work off his chest- and backplate; Jango watches him struggle for all of a moment before sighing and pushing the rest of the way into the room to help. Obi-Wan smiles all young and stupid up at him, and from this close, it lodges something in Jango’s throat.

  Breathless, indeed. 

Mando’a: beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy ures haal — breathless, lit. "without breath" ghet'bur — the collar piece of the chest plate on some beskar'gam, sitting over the shoulders and below the throat. a form of gorget. Haat Mando’ade — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians buir — “parent”, gender neutral Kyr’tsad — Death Watch osik — impolite form of “dung”, shit ad — “child”, gender neutral  ’ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends utreekov — idiot, fool, lit. "empty head" K'atini — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.” aliit — family, clan

(beskar’gam colour meanings here; Obi’s silver means seeking redemption, and yellow is for remembrance)

[ficklefics]

Our Fathers’ Scars - Zuko x Reader

When Zuko gets lost in the forests surrounding the Western Air Temple, a mysterious girl helps him. They soon discover they have more in common than they might think.

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Abuse mention

Zuko never liked to admit he was wrong if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But he was well and truly lost.

It had started as just a short walk in the forest, something to clear his head a bit. He had snapped at Sokka, more aggressive than his usual responses to the “lovable” idiot’s jokes and quips, and the stunned silence from the group made him realise that he might have a bit of built-up tension. Of course, that was understandable. Everything they were doing was leading up to a battle with his father, a battle that would determine the fate of the world, and it was his job to train Aang to firebend. If he failed…

He yelled in frustration, throwing a ball of fire into a copse of trees. A yelp from the same direction drew his attention. Panicked, he sprinted over to the now charred and smoking trees.

“Hello?” He called out, hoping that whoever it was would be okay. “You really need to be more careful if you’re going to be throwing fire around like that.” The voice came from his right. Looking around, he found a girl, around his age, lying in the dirt where she seemed to have thrown herself when dodging the fire. “I- I’m sorry,” Zuko noticed an upturned basket a few metres from her and picked it up, scooping the fallen fruits back in. “Really, I…” “It’s fine,” She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself up. She was dressed simply, in a weather-worn dress with long sleeves and well-used sandals. When the two made eye contact, they both froze. She frowned, clearly thinking hard. Oh sh- “Prince Zuko?” She gasped. “Well, kind of just Zuko now.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, immediately looking away from her shocked stare. Glancing up ever so slightly, he watched her carefully through his tangled hair. “Do I know you?” He had to be careful – she could be a scout, a spy, or even just loyal to the Fire Nation. “No,” She laughed slightly, “You visited my village once, six years ago or so. Some royal tour. There’s no reason you’d remember me.” “I might have.” He tried to defend himself, but the look she gave him made him wince. “So what’s the traitor prince doing here?” She asked, glancing around as though looking for troops. He knew his presence was the opposite of relaxing. Seeing his unease, the girl tried to give him a calming smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in. I have no desire to go running to a soldier. I’m (Y/N).” “Zuko.” “Yes, I know.” She did her best to hold back a laugh at his social ineptitude. “Oh, yeah. Um… I got lost.” “Lost?” “Yeah. I’m staying at the Western Air Temple with some, erm, friends.” “The Avatar?” “How did you-?” “Educated guess. Why else would you have left the capital?” “I guess.”

She glanced up, a frown appearing on your face. “The Western Air Temple?” “Yes.” “You won’t get back before dark.” Zuko lifted his head with her to see an orange sky – the sun must be setting. “I’ll be fine.” “No, you shouldn’t wander the forest at night. Stay with me, and I’ll take you to your friends in the morning.” “I’m serious-” “And so am I,” She insisted. “I don’t live far from here. Come on.”

Zuko figured she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so when she started walking away he followed. They took a seemingly invisible path through the trees. There were no clear markers or tracks, but (Y/N) walked confidently. The sun was setting quickly, the light filtering through the trees dimming with every moment.

As if out of nowhere a small house appeared. It sat in a clearing, and a stream ran behind it. An idyllic sanctuary hidden from the world. Inside was only one room, bare except for a hearth, a bed, and rugs on the floor. “You live here?” “Not quite a palace, I know, but it’s better than nothing.” (Y/N) set down the basket by the hearth. “It’s nice.” And he wasn’t even lying. The simplicity of it, the isolation – it was so completely foreign to how he was raised. He almost envied it, though he supposed the makeshift home at the Air Temple was essentially the same, just less permanent. “Sure. I guess.” Something shifted on her face, a sadness, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a smile. “Are you hungry?” He nodded. Suddenly he was starving. He wasn’t sure when he last ate. (Y/N) knelt down and tossed some wood and kindling into the hearth. Next, she grabbed some matches, but they refused to stay lit long enough. “Um, you know I can…?” Zuko tried to offer help, but the words came out clumsily. “Go for it.” She sighed, sitting back on her heels. He knelt beside her and held a hand above the wood. In an instant, there was a roaring fire. Zuko smiled, glad to have done some good, and (Y/N) returned it. “Thanks.” She crossed to a hatch in the floor that he hadn’t seen and opened it, reaching in and pulling out another basket. From inside she pulled out some vegetables and some meat. They sat in silence while she cooked, the vegetables roasting and the meat turning on a spit. The smell made his stomach rumble embarrassingly loud. He grimaced, but (Y/N) didn’t say anything.

They sat and ate. The silence was beginning to grow awkward, at least to Zuko, but he didn’t know how to fill it. Knowing him, he would only make things worse. “Can I ask you something?” Luckily (Y/N) broke the silence, setting her now-empty plate aside. “Sure.” “Why did you leave your father? Join the Avatar?” “It was the right thing to do.” She examined him closely. “I just… I realised that being the person my father wanted me to be would never make me happy – and my uncle, he was always trying to teach me how to be good. He always knew what was best for me.” “He sounds like a smart man.” “He is. Now, can I ask you something?” She nodded. “Why do you live out here, all alone? You told me you used to live in a village. What changed?” “I…” Looking away, her hands clenched into fists. “You need to understand that it’s more complicated than it seems.” She was close to shaking. “I… I killed my father.” Zuko shifted slightly away from her, shocked, but he was prepared to listen. Something about (Y/N) seemed genuine. She could have lied, but she didn’t. There must be a good reason. “He was awful. He… he wasn’t good to us. I protected my brothers and sisters from him, and I tried to protect my mother. But I wasn’t strong enough. He was a firebender. He killed her.” Tears were welling in her eyes but she quickly brushed them away. “So you killed him, to protect the rest of your family.” She nodded. “But why did you have to leave?” “No one believed me. Everyone thought he was perfect. I had to run. They would have executed me.” “What about the rest of your family?” “I made sure they were safe. Happy. They’re better off without me.” She stood up abruptly, kicking ashes to smother the dying fire. “It’s getting late. I’ll get you some blankets.”

Zuko could tell she was upset. So he didn’t push the topic. Instead, he stood with her and helped tidy the dishes. When she tried to offer him the only bed, he insisted he would be fine on the floor.

“Goodnight Zuko.” “Goodnight (Y/N).”

*

Zuko woke up with the dawn. Pale light was starting to stream through the windows, illuminating the room. He rolled over to face (Y/N)’s bed – but she wasn’t there.

He sat up, panicking. Did something happen? The bed was made. He would have heard if she’d been taken. But why would she have disappeared? He stood up and made his way out of the hut. It must have rained during the night; the ground was muddy, and he could see footprints leading away towards the stream. He followed them silently. The stream wove through the trees and it didn’t take long for him to find its end, a small lake. And by the water’s edge knelt (Y/N). He stepped forward, about to call out to her when he noticed something. She had shed her dress and wore only a slight undershirt and trousers. Under the straps of her top, Zuko could see scars that wound their way across her back and down her arms. Some old and barely visible, others deep and angry. The skin was twisted and rough.

“(Y/N),” Zuko called softly, hoping not to startle her.

He failed.

She jumped, a slight scream escaping her lips as she lost her footing and fell into the lake. Zuko hurried over, prepared to jump in to help, but the water was shallow and (Y/N) was sitting submerged to her waist, shocked. “Sorry.” Zuko cringed at himself. He offered a hand, which she took, and pulled her out of the water. Her clothes were soaked. Without thinking, Zuko pulled off his overshirt and wrapped it around her. “Thank you.” She clung to the fabric, covering herself. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” “It’s okay.” “Your scars…” Zuko realised that it probably wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Your father gave them to you?” “I told you he was awful.” (Y/N) sighed. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was showing sympathy for her father’s abuse, or if he was apologising for asking. Probably both. “It’s not that bad. At least I can hide them.” She tried to shrug it off but Zuko shook his head. “Don’t say that. You don’t need to diminish your suffering. I know what it’s like to say it could be worse or to say it was my fault. But it’s not true. No one deserves something like that.” He was talking about himself just as much as her. She looked at Zuko, confusing mix of sadness and pain and frustration, but also… gratefulness? “I guess I needed to hear that. All I get is blame – from the village, from my family, from myself. It’s always everything I did wrong.” “And never what you did right.” “Exactly. Thank you, Zuko.”

He wasn’t sure what to say, but luckily (Y/N) started leading the way back to her home. When they got there she went inside to change. Zuko watched the sun rising as he waited, taking peace in the colours streaking the sky. “Here.” (Y/N) handed her his shirt as she came back out, now back in her dress. “We should get going – wouldn’t want your friends worrying.” He nodded and slipped the shirt on. Her hair was still wet.

By the time they made it to the cliff over the Western Air Temple the sun had fully risen and (Y/N)’s hair had dried. “Well, this is where I leave you.” She smiled, almost sadly. “Thank you, (Y/N), for everything.” “It was nothing.” She seemed to be thinking, a slight frown creasing her forehead. Zuko was about to ask if she was okay when she darted forward and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His mouth dropped open and he turned bright red. There was a shy smile on her face. “Go save the world, Zuko.” And with that, she had turned and was disappearing into the forest. Zuko watched her until she was gone. The blush refused to leave his face. The feeling of the kiss lingered, and he smiled.

“I will, (Y/N). For you.”

MASTERLIST

[samwritesforyou]

ARMY ZIP drabbles

JOURNEY

you and joon have been pretty close friends since you first came to this new highschool. your family has been moving around a lot, so you never stayed long in any schools, until this one.

your mom eventually got to know namjoon’s mother and they became friends as well.

there were always some activities for your class, and one day it was a trip for the whole day, where teachers took all of you to the place that was very similar to some kind of jungle.

it was no surprise to find this type of  surroundings in australia, so nobody was really super stoked by it.

but the exciting part was, that your main partner for the day was joon, and together you’d get lost, just enjoying each other’s company.

to avoid punishment, joon took the situation under his control and called the teacher in charge, bluntly lying about the fact that you two have gone home already. you two didn’t mind spending more time together, especially in this beautiful scenery.

after all you’d find your way out of there and joon would walk you home from the bus station, because it already got dark, and he would give you his grey jacket, because you said under your breath a silent, “how much colder can it be..”

your mom was waiting for you on the porch already - pretty mad - and joon took all the blame on himself, apologising and saying that you two got lost because of him.. she actually forgave the both of you and even invited joon to stay for a cup of tea.

the whole time beside the dinner table you couldn’t take your eyes off him, and he did the same, captivating your eyes with his..

in the hall you were just simply talking about how much fun the whole day was and you both ended up in a warm hug towards the end of your conversation.

since you’re both still underage, your mom makes a firm statement that she will drive namjoon to his own home and as you waved him goodbye you were smiling, because.. damn, he forgot to take his jacket back from you. and you couldn’t help yourself but realise that it smelled just exactly like him.. like home.

PERFECT

yoongi was this perfect friend. you didn’t know him for too long, but it didn’t matter. your personalities clicked and you started to spend a lot of time together.

he was the best baseball player in the whole school and you were fortunate enough to always be by his side, whenever some victory happened.

but what you missed on - in the early stages of your friendship - were the losses, the bad things that happened.

one day you were just passing by the slightly opened door of the changing rooms, when you heard a slight whimper.

you immediately stopped and carefully peeked through the crack, trying to inspect who’s inside.

you saw light hair and a small posture, crouched on the floor near the lockers, shuddering their shoulders, with arms wrapped around their knees, as they desperately tried to hide the sounds that sometimes escaped their lips.

it didn’t take you long to realise who it was..

“yoongi?..” you called, softly, opening the door further and making your way inside.

“i fucked it up.. i fucked it all up,” was all he said, burying his head even tighter to his knees.

so he wasn’t perfect, after all, huh? everyone kept painting yoongi as this cold and professional kid, but they just never got to see the more emotional and vulnerable side of him.

perhaps he didn’t let them see it.

didn’t want them to see it.

but he let you. and when you dropped down on the floor next to him, consoling him and patting his hair, he let you.

when you leaned towards him, he started to cry even harder, letting his emotions out, and finally felt how it was to be truly supported by someone.

that’s what true friends do, right? being here for each other in good and bad times.

ZOMBIE

it was the end of it all. the world has gone insane since last week, when a massive zombie virus broke out... somehow.. to the whole world.

Nobody knows exactly what or how it happened, but even though everyone was fairly “educated” on the apocalypse matter from all the movies and books, loads of people were still getting turned on a daily basis.

in other words, it was terrifying, and not as adventurous as in the fiction.

you were fortunate enough to find yourself, after days on the road, in the abandoned house, still filled with some leftover foods around.

you just did your evening routine and came back to your “room”, where you stood by a small window, looking out and trying to concentrate your attention on the lightest of sounds.

and you finally heard it. a zombie was approaching from the hallway, their grunting clear as day for your careful hearing.

you had no weapon, no help around..

you didn’t know exactly what was your plan, but.. something will have to do.

you grabbed the nearest brick into your palm and squeezed hard, getting nervous.

the undead person already came into the view, feeling your presence and moving in your direction.

when there were only a few meters between the two of you, the gunshot blazed through the air.

the body fell to the floor and you saw a man standing in the hallway, rifle in his strong hands.

“hey.. you okay?” a man said, fixing his freshly dyed purple hair.

“yeah..”

“good. i think you could use a friend in this apocalypse,” a man smirked and gave you a bag with some food, by this making a peace pact between you.

STREET

hoseok was an international student from korea, who was studying art and dancing majors.

you were friends for some time already, but both of you never had time to actually hang out outside of the school grounds.

you were into filmmaking and your study hours were crazy, to say the least.

but finally, summer holidays were approaching. you didn’t make any plans, because most of your friends went travelling, and your buddies from the dorms were supposed to leave to go back to their lovely families.. you just didn’t have that.

one of the final days of the semester before the big break, you were just wandering around the campus, finally having nothing to do, after months of hard work..

and suddenly your phone rang. it startled you, on the screen showing “hoseok” with his number underneath it.

you picked it up, of course.

“hey, are you in town?” you heard an exciting tone on the other end.

“yes, actually..”

“wanna hang out? come to that park near the school, in 20 minutes?”

and it was settled. when you dragged your ass over there, you came perfectly on time and hoseok was already waiting for you, sitting on top of the many big cans that were laying around here.

he simply handed you the graffiti colour. you couldn’t help yourself but to make a surprised expression, but took the paint anyways.

“let’s create something!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and started to dance around, filling the walls with some slogans and pictures of all sorts.

he noticed you hesitating at first, and gently put his elegant hand on your back.

“heyy,  don’t be afraid, it’s my first time with this kind of medium too! i just figured we could do something for the first time together and not worry about the result that much, most important thing is just having fun, isnt it?” he smiled at you warmly, and you just couldn’t help it and put your arm towards the wall, spraying his name on it.

YOUNG

it was one of those days, when everything seems quiet, slow and kind of lazy.. it was just another weekend in your small city, far far away from all the excitement of the bigger metropolis.

you were fortunate enough to meet one of the closest people in your life here, though.

you came over to jimin’s place, as you have previously agreed on.

he made you some tea. kettle boiled in the silence of his apartment and you smiled at each other, when he picked your favourite kind.

you knew each other well. and jimin knew even better about your current struggles, as of the problem that you’re trying to become a tattoo artist, but it wasn’t quite working out yet.

he was always trying to help and make things better.

so when you ended up in his room, he took out a marker from his pencil-case and showed it to you, excitedly.

“what should i do with it?” you chuckled, but sadness still prevailed on your face.

“draw on me,” he simply said and put the tool firmly into your hand, “imagine i’m the canvas and you’re about to ink my skin.”

“okay..” it seemed a little weird and embarrassing at first, but after a while you both got fully into it and your passion literally blossomed in front of his eyes and reflected there as beautiful sparkles.

“youth?..” he asked, looking at his arm, with a genuine warm smile.

“youth. let’s never forget about this. when we’re still young, you know?” you smiled and then jimin started laughing with his angelic voice.

“i like it! write more, please..”

you ended up writing things like “i  me”, “happy song :)” and a big “nevermind” in some really rough, but pretty font on his ribs.

“i really like this one..” jimin said, truly amazed.

and a few years later, after you’ve finally made it out of the small town and owned your own tattoo studio, jimin came with a request of nevermind on his ribs.

MAFIA

it was really risky to try and accomplish this mission and you knew it.

there were literally myths and stories going around this mafia, especially their leader.

nobody never described how he looked, just that he was ruthless and never spared their enemies.

all the other heads of gangs had exceptions for some people, but not him.

and when you were caught, illegally transporting some dangerous.. “items” by one of his people, you were immediately captured. this wasn’t supposed to happen and now you knew your fate.

you were held hostage for some days, but now you’re finally on the way to meet the master head behind all of this.

you were pushed into this luxurious room, doors closing loudly behind you. but it was empty..

after the uncomfortable silence the backdoor of this strange place opened and you saw him come in.

his expression was grim and intimidating, but changed in a heartbeat when your eyes met.

“taehyung?..” your voice cracked in between the pronunciation of his name and you were just.. astounded.

you were close friends until last two years, because you suddenly lost contact with each other.

“are you okay?” he immediately rushed to you, uncuffed your hands and wrapped you in a warm hug, dropping his stern facade this instant. in that second all your memories from when you were younger and just having fun together popped up in your head and you couldn’t help but only hug him tighter.

when you pulled away after a while, you cupped his cheeks with your hands and stared into his eyes, “how the fuck did you get into all of this mess?”

you just wanted him to stay this innocent and pure boy you always knew..

“i should ask you the same thing then,” he frowned his brows and pouted.

“i guess we’ll have to figure it out somehow..” you turned your head towards the doors, that slowly clicked as someone was clearly ears dropping you.

“now it’s only you and me, partner.”

MESSENGER

you were just an ice cream truck worker, giving out yet another frozen treat to a happy family in front of your face. ugh. you didn’t like your job one bit. but what can you do in summer, when you don’t have enough money from your usual income like drawing or writing articles, right? next second you look up from your phone and another customer is standing there. “can i get some ice, please? just ice,” he says firmly and tries to keep up a smile, but it breaks a few times, because the man looks genuinely injured on the side of his head. “are you sure? you should call a doctor for that-“ you can’t even finish your sentence when he just pulls his hand into the ice-cubes container himself and pushes it against his temple, part of the ice melting and some of it falling down. suddenly he’s checking his phone and then frantically looks around, not loosing his cool image. then his eyes dart back at you and he says, “do you think i can hide behind the truck? you’d still stand there so its not suspicious that the truck is here by itself?” he really seemed to be in a hurry, so you just nodded your head yes and he was already crouching next to you, in a still position. soon a group of bulky men appeared, coming to you and asking if you havent seen a younger guy with longer brown hair, tattoos and piercings. you have, and he has been hiding just next to your legs. “no, i’m sorry,” you said with an innocent smile and eventually they went away. when the air was clear, the man finally stepped away and most adorable smile appeared on his face. he was holding a small transparent package, full of white crystals. from all the happiness he kissed the package and then patted you a little awkwardly on the shoulder. “thank you so much for covering me. i’m jeongguk, by the way,” he stretched his tattooed arm towards you and you shook hands. “can i get an ice cream now?” he said, a little bit embarrassed, as he stood in front of the truck now, like a normal customer.

[redbootsthetimetraveller]

I wanted to request the “OC dressed by other OC” things but you’ve got so many!!! And they’re all so cool!! Would you mind saying what some of your favourite ones’ styles are (i.e. mod, psychedelic, hippie, glam, etc.)?

Love your art❤️

oh I am always up to talk about my characters and thank you for sending this!! I appreciate these sorta things because it’s a nice message AND I get to talk about my characters which helps me actually figure them out lmao

and I know you’re asking for my favourites but that is subject to change and I want to talk about all of them. and I’m not entirely sure exactly what styles of dress they each come under but I’ll use the terms where I see fit, and I’ll just. ramble about their individual dress styles. that’s the same thing right!

this is gonna be long (spoiler alert: IT IS) so to keep things short for those who don’t want to scroll through a mile long post, I’ll put it under the cut

so I’m gonna start with the starstrucks because they ARE my like. main characters. I am planning something with them which is in its very early stages of development but I’m hoping that when things around me settle down I can work on it a bit better than what I have (but I procrastinate the things I WANT to do so we’ll see. feel free to nag me about it though)

roger claire: considering he’s like. the main-main character (not intended, that was meant to be snowy but HERE WE ARE) his outfits and style of dress changes a lot but also it’s not that creative for a lot of it. at the start he wears more mod clothing, but he’s not that daring since he is pretty cautious. he had a strict family. anyway around 1965 he starts getting a lot more daring and he’s definitely not an extravagant dresser he does know how to dress sharply despite that so you get things like his peacoat that I DEFINITELY didn’t copy directly from micky dolenz on the cover of more of the monkees, and that really heavily decorated overcoat that’s 18th-century inspired but also Groovy, y’know? that sorta thing carries over into the seventies where he pretty much wears shirts with the sleeves rolled up, light coloured trousers, and a few t-shirts because Variety™. haven’t really thought about beyond that but he’d probably dress like a cool dad

pete sutton: he’s got sensory issues so he’s even MORE cautious in dress style than roger. main thing is turtlenecks though. and a lot of purple. there’s a quote about ray davies being the kink most likely to wear a tie offstage and I think pete’s the starstrucks’ equivalent

snowy smith: he’s got the most defined wardrobe out of the lot of them! black-and-blue striped jumper, a black peacoat, blue jeans, blue-green shirts, his leather jacket (which has blue-violet stripes on it so it’s unique from the million other jackets I draw) since he’s definitely on the rocker side of things and cuban-heeled beatle boots he doesn’t need since he’s already 6′1

charlie morris: REALLY mod. at the start of the story he has a collarless jacket with pink trimmings. his colours are yellow and green but I also always end up drawing him in red

davey peacock: mod, but the mod that your parents approve of. does get a bit more adventurous when his uncle, the manager, gets fired, and I gave him a union jack jacket like pete townshend had at some point lol. he also gives hippie clothing a shot around 1968 and in the eighties he has a mullet and not a good one

rory locking: SO MUCH ORANGE. aviator sunglasses, collared shirts with the first two buttons undone, his kinda short jacket that’s plasticky leather with a fluffy lining (those style jackets have a particular name don’t they? I can’t remember it) but like. there’s so much orange. why did I do that my markers are dying

mick lily: light was denim. that’s about it.

next we have the midnight delusions

jimmy jade: scarves. he has a gold embroidered black suit that I’ve drawn a couple of times and ALWAYS regret it because OW, pink, and a lot of black

teddy van alst: he has a leather jacket. wears interesting trousers and really plain shirts typically. he’s the one with the cool glam makeup even though it’s 1966 and glam isn’t exactly a thing yet. he’s a rocker though

arthur floyd: has a leather jacket like his bf teddy! it has roses embroidered on it. he has a rose sorta aesthetic going on, along with the blue-and-gold star outfit that I drew him in a couple of times. he’s sort of a carnaby street mod if that’s a thing lol

lucky littleproud: gonna be real with you he’s boring he wears colourful shirts and trousers that’s about it. I haven’t worked on him much :(

peter morrison: between hippie and mod. definitely more on the hippie side compared to his sibling

stevie maple (counting him here even though he kinda isn’t a Member): textured shirts, he’s more of an american mod. considering he IS american (unfortunately)

all of those side characters I have absolutely no idea how to group but are part of the same story as those two bands:

sylvia chase: mod, but she also doesn’t put much effort into her appearance. that’s the best way to describe her style

holly keys: she’s a model so literally whatever is the ‘hottest’ trend

james cassidy-bell: he dresses like brian jones in the early-mid sixties

katherine robinson: mod, and then the most avant-garde things she can find if she’s going in public. and a lot of red lipstick (that’s her Thing)

morgan morrison: MOD but also like that sorta soft aesthetic thing that was popular in like. 2017. because why not am I right

christopher goldstein: he is also a model but I draw him in really dandy-ish stuff a lot. him and jimmy sorta have a prep/goth dynamic going on

and that’s about it for the characters who really are gonna appear often enough to bother describing their dress styles! moving on now

keith neptune: band tshirts and anything with patches on it.

nico (haven’t come up with his surname yet, if y’all have suggestions I’ll take it): baggy jeans, sneakers, baggy tshirts, and has a denim vest with patches on it but Different types of patches to keith. if keith has the sorta etsy partches nico has ‘I pickpocketed these from a bikey who hasn’t showered in a month from a servo in the middle of nowhere’ patches

grey: they have a brow leather jacket that I think was inspired by jim morrison, a stamp out the beatles jumper, and a really big and motheaten black woolen jumper which they wear with beatle-boots, a white collared shirt, and like. not black jeans but very desaturated blue jeans that happen to be very dark

jude anne sutton (yes I know she and pete have the same surname they’re not related they’re in different universes): mod. enough said

rene shannon: mod but boring. he’s Repressed y’know

leslie (I’m gonna change her surname lol): honestly mainly shift dresses and that one really simple black-and-white dress, and their ripoff black watch tartan jacket, and tall boots.

danny: honestly? he dresses like a mod but at heart he’s a rocker. he’s a rocker who washes

that One character I won’t name: it’s complicated. he goes from trying to be a teddy boy with the rest of his friends and then it goes a little wrong and they fight about it and then they discover early rocker culture and he sticks with that for a while and then starts dabbling in more mod stuff and then DEFINITELY his style changes into the dandy stuff of the middle of the sixties. you know the stuff I’m talking about. and then he’s a hippie for about two seconds and goes back to dandy stuff but throws a few of his old rocker pieces back in. THEN he has a breakdown and fucks off to america for three years (returning home like twice for two days before fucking off again) where he’s got a peacoat, his old leather jacket, a turtleneck, a few shirts, and two pairs of jeans. that’s it. for three years. and workboots obviously because he’s trainhopping. I have that part very worked out as you can tell!

harper (character I have sketched exactly Once but have his style very sorted out): he starts off pretending to be a teddy boy in the way that a fifteen-year-old with a highly overprotective and lowkey horrible mother would probably be. he is also kinda Broke for that exact reason. and then he and the above character get into more rocker stuff and that’s probably where the two drift apart and where rene/jude/leslie/whoever else I may come up with would come in

anyway!!! I think that’s every character I have a defined style for. some of it’s a little hard to explain but I hope this cleared things up. I have also had a migraine for most of today so my ability to use words is extra impaired lmao!

and I’m so sorry for just. rambling. but I do have a lot of characters and I love them all so much and I’m so happy you like them too!!!

[lovemesomesurveys]

Don’t you just love the smell of Hollister and Abercrombie and Fitch? I actually did used to like it. 

When a bee is coming close to you, do you stand still or run away? I back away somewhat quickly, but try not to make a big show of it because I know it’s advised to be calm, but I see a bee and I freak. 

Are you self conscious about wearing a bathing suit? Absolutely, so I don’t wear one. 

Do you make reminders for important things you need to remember? Yeah, I make great use of the calendar, notes, and reminder apps on my phone.

If you had to play one sport for a living, what would it be? Gah, that would not work for me. I’m not athletic at all and I have zero interest in sports.

Was the last person you texted single? No, he’s with my mom.

Do you get jealous easily? No. I haven’t felt jealous in a long time.  What are you currently waiting for? Nothing at the moment.

Do you think more about the past, present, or future? I dwell in the past too much and I’m always stressing and worrying about present stuff. 

Is there anybody you wish you could be spending time with right now? No.

Who were the last people you saw besides family? Other patients at my doctor’s office, the receptionist, the nurses, and my doctor.

Which of your friends lives closest to you? No friends.

How do you feel about Diet Dr Pepper? I like it.

Do you ever work out? No. I should be lifting a light weight at least everyday. My upper body strength is so bad now.

Do you go to the tanning bed on a regular basis? I’ve never been to a tanning salon and have no interest in doing so.

Does your bedroom need cleaning? I need to organize some stuff and put some things away.

Vanilla or chocolate? Vanilla.

Pretty Woman or Sixteen Candles? Sixteen Candles.

Do you ever hang out with someone of the opposite sex? My dad and brother.

Are you comfortable with your height? I wish I was a little taller. 

Anything on your walls? Yeah, a few giraffe paintings, a a couple beach ones, a couple calendars, a bulletin board, a marker board, and a huge Swedish flag.

What do you bite more, your tongue, lip, or cheek? I’m constantly biting and picking at my lips. :/

What was the last non-alcoholic beverage you had? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink.

Do you have a box where you keep all your important things? I have boxes and drawers with stuff like that. 

How many times have you dyed your hair? Numerous times since I was 13.

Are any of your friends taller than you? Everyone is taller than me except for small children. 

Ever liked someone whose name started with a B? I don’t think so.

Have you ever been on a motorcycle? I’ve ridden on the back of one with my dad when I was a kid.

Do you have feelings for anyone? Not the romantic kind.

Name something great that happened today: It’s only 530AM, nothing much has happened. 

How did you feel when you woke up today? I haven’t gone to bed yet, but I’m willing to bet I’ll wake up feeling like a zombie like I always do.

Do you use Twitter? I do.

What did you have for dinner yesterday? Wingstop.

What kind of position are you in at the moment? I’m sitting on my bed.

Furthest away from home you have ever been? When I went to Atlanta, Georgia.

What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing? I’m wearing blue Adidas leggings. 

When was the last time you drank water? Like an hour ago.

Have you ever fallen asleep with the last person you kissed? No.

Do you answer the phones at your job? I don’t have a job.

What’s your ring tone? One of the ones that come with the phone.

What were you doing at 12 AM last night? I was doing surveys.

Do you want to fix anything with anyone? Not at this time.

Do you have trust issues? No really. I have a hard time with expressing myself and opening up to others, but it’s not so much a matter of trust.

Do you believe everything happens for a reason? Yes.

Are you going to have a good night? My night has been okay.

Have you ever given up on someone and then went back to them? Yes.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night? Well no, cause I don’t even go to bed until like 7 or 8AM.

What shows do you watch? I watch a lot of different shows.

What’s wrong with you right now? Just blah as usual.

Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? Absolutely. 

What’s your relationship with the person you last texted? He’s my dad.

Are you looking forward to anything? No.

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? My first ex told me I did.

Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes? Yes.

Does anyone disgust you? Myself.

Did you enjoy your weekend? It’s just starting.

Have you argued with anyone today? No.

Your enemy is at your doorstep begging for forgiveness, what would you do? I don’t have any enemies, thankfully.

Has someone had their arms around you in the past 7 days? To give me a hug, yeah.

Dare you to detail why you kissed the last person you kissed? We just wanted to? I never understand this question.

Are you afraid of losing the last person you talked to? One of my biggest fears is my loved ones passing away. Which is obviously inevitable, but still. 

What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? I don’t remember. My mind wanders off and thinks about random things.

When’s the last time you had a headache? A few days ago.

Is anyone else in the room with you? Nope.

Who was the last person you had a conversation with on the phone? My mom.

Does anyone call you babe? No.

Is there anything you are craving right now? Not at this moment.

What was the first thing you thought of this morning? I haven’t gone to bed yet, but I always check the time when I first get up.

Are you satisfied with what you currently have in life? I am appreciative of the good things, but there’s so much I’d like to change and I’m unhappy with. 

What were you doing at 7:00 AM? It’s 5:56AM, so I’m sure I’ll still be awake in like an hour. Sigh.

How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Like 4ish. 

Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes.

Think back to the last person you kissed, how many times have you laughed with them? Uhh, countless times. How do you even count that? Not to mention, he was always making me laugh.

How do you feel about your hair right now? I hate it. It needs to be dyed so bad, it could use a trim, and a style would be nice. I don’t do anything with it besides throw it up in a messy bun. 

When you were in elementary school, did you change best friends a lot? Yeah. When I was a kid “best friend” was a term thrown around quite loosely.  

Last thing you touched not computer-related? My phone.

Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating on you? No.

Does the song you’re currently listening to remind you of anyone specific? I’m not listening to music.

Who was the last person to give you a ride somewhere? My mom.

When and where was the last time you took a picture of yourself? A few weeks ago in the car.

Have you ever been scolded by a mall cop? No.

How often do you catch yourself daydreaming? A lot.

What’s your favorite thing to think about as you’re falling asleep? I don’t get much say in that.

Is there anything that you want to do, but won’t because you’re too afraid? There’s a lot of things.

Who gets up the earliest in your household? The latest? My dad gets up the earliest. He’s off on the weekends and he still gets up at like 5AM for some reason. The latest is definitely me. 

Have you ever had a pet walk across your keyboard while you were typing? No, my doggos have always been too big to do that.

You’re going to your favorite foreign country; what landmarks do you go see? I just want to see everything and really experience Sweden.

What is the longest amount of time that you have spent away from your home? A few months during hospital stays.

Did the last movie you watched have any emotional effect on you? No.

What motivates you to go to school? I’m done with school, thankfully. I’ve been so unmotivated and without energy the past few years and I’m glad I finished school before that happened and I sunk into the hole I’ve been stuck in.

Are you more hyper and uptight, or laid back and relaxed? I’m never hyper and I definitely haven’t felt relaxed in a long time. I think to some people I’d appear laid back, but oh boy if they only knew. And honestly what appears be laid is me just feeling... flat. 

When was the last time you heard someone talking about you? I don’t know.

How did you pick out your last outfit? I just grabbed whatever.

When buying shoes, what do you look for in the product? For me it’s just about how they look. Comfort isn’t a factor for me as someone who has no feeling in their legs and feet. 

What happened to cause the last mess you made? I let some stuff build up. 

Are you embarrassed to bring people into your bedroom? I would be right now.

When was the last children’s birthday party you attended? A few years ago for one of my cousins. 

Are you good at reading other people’s body language? I think I am.

If you’re sick, do you go to school or do you stay home (usually)? I’m not in school anymore, but I mean for me it depended on how sick I felt. Of course now in the days of COVID you’re advised to stay home if you feel sick at all. Most schools, at least where I am, are all on Zoom now anyway, though.

Does chicken noodle soup really make you feel any better? I don’t feel it ever did anything for me.

What is one meal that you like to eat whilst sick? If I’m sick I usually don’t have much of an appetite, if one at all depending on how sick I am. I don’t eat much, but I’ll try to eat a little at least of something.

Think of the last survey you filled out; did you enjoy it? Sure.

Have you ever fed bread to ducks or geese? I did when I was a kid. I didn’t know you shouldn’t do that at the time.

Is it hard to imagine you were ever as small as a 1-2 year old? Yeah, that is weird to think about.

What set the tone for your mood today? It’s 6:22AM and right now I just feel tired.

Have you ever set out to ruin someone else’s day? No, that’s definitely not something I’d want to do.

The name of the last board game that you played? I don’t remember.

What was the last thing that you told yourself? That I would try to go to sleep a little earlier. ha.

Do you remember your D.A.R.E. officer’s name? I actually do.

Someone throws hot coffee on you; how do you react? Uh, wtf? Firstly, I’d react to the HOT coffee that I had thrown at me. That would be excruciatingly painful. I’ve accidentally spilled really hot coffee on myself before so I would know. So yeah, I’d feel the pain and shock from that and then I’d just be like wtf??? I’d be so confused and upset and most of all, furious. 

Is there a high school or college that you would rather be attending? I graduated college, I’m doneee.

Have you ever lived in an apartment or duplex home? A duplex.

Has anyone ever commented on your weight? Yes, I get comments a lot about how I’m too thin.

Where do you stand when it comes to sexual intercourse? Well, I’m a virgin, so.

Name a show from the 90’s that you miss? I still watch a lot of them to be honest.

Have you ever thought about joining the military? No. I couldn’t anyway even if I wanted to because of my physical disability.

When you were little, did you ever stare at disabled or “different” people? I was and am a disabled person and I’ve had to deal with people staring all my life because I’m in a wheelchair and hear kids ask their parents, “what’s wrong with her?”

Could the contents of your bedroom get you in any trouble? No.

Do weather patterns sometimes have an effect on your health? The heat definitely does. Ugh, I hate the summer. I do not do well with the heat.

If it snows a lot where you live, do you experience cabin fever? It doesn’t snow here. :(

How good are you at getting along with other people? I don’t have a problem with getting along with others.

Have you ever felt like you were going out of your mind? Oh yes.

Has anyone ever suggested that you might need “help”? Yes. And I agree. 

How do you respond to cheesy pick-up lines? No one has used a cheesy pickup line on me.

How was the service at the last restaurant you visited? I’m gonna answer this with takeout because ever since the pandemic hit last year I haven’t gone out to eat anywhere, but I get takeout all the time. Anyway, last night I got Wingstop and my brother realized when he got home they gave him the wrong order, so he had to drive back and it’s like a 15 minute drive there and back on the highway, so it’s not a quick, easy trip. He gets back and I realize they forgot my extra side of the lemon pepper sauce that I like to get, which wasn’t as big of a deal of course, but still annoying. I didn’t say anything about a small thing like that, but I was just annoyed with the whole situation and that I didn’t have that extra side of sauce to dip my wings in. It adds to what makes it good, ya know? I like my ranch and my extra sauce. I would have been even more upset if they forgot the ranch because their ranch is the best.

Are you ever jealous of happy couples? I feel a little envious sometimes cause I’d like to experience that. 

Describe a thought that is sticking with you today? My mind is a jumbled mess.

Lately, who has spent the most time on your mind? No one in particular. I’m more occupied with thoughts of things I’m dealing with, things I’m feeling, and things that are going on.

In a car: air conditioning, or roll the windows down? AC, for sure. Especially during the summer when it’s hot and miserable because rolling the windows down doesn’t do shit.

When was the last time you did anything to your playlist? I added songs to it like a month ago.

Is there a new song or band you’ve discovered? Not recently. I haven’t been listening to music recently.

What teacher gives you the most homework? --

Are you punctual? Yes. I hate being late.

Have you ever howled at the full moon? Uh, no.

Do you give any consideration to what’s said in your horoscope? I don’t even read it. I don’t believe in astrology.

[hockeytrashgoblin]

High ~Part 12

A/N: This is the last part of this tonight but just wait because I have some other things to post too lmao. I have so much I’m so sorry I’m such a goblin that hordes writing like this when I get sad.

It was about a month later and things had gone a little more normal. Ema was still allowed to come see Gray but Brian stayed at Auston's. I knew Ema had nothing to do with it. She'd never do anything to risk never seeing Grayson again, she loved him too much.

As Mitch expected Freddie had a long talk with Auston. Mitch also had a talk with Auston and so did Ema. The general consensus was that he stuck up for me with his dad and that he didn't think of how a signed jersey would come across. He was dumb. We knew this.

Mitch and I had given the shirt to a little boy in the hospital with brain cancer. He was really small for being 6 because of the chemo on top of him being small anyway so the toddler jersey fit him perfectly. He had loved the gift and I felt a lot of satisfaction in giving it to him and brightening up the little guy's day.

Everything was getting back to normal just in time to be wrecked again by two new babies. I was thinking a lot about how things were gonna change with more kids as Mitch and Grayson were sleeping on me. We had started taking family naps because my boys liked to feel the babies move around. So there I was, the first one awake, sandwiched by Mitch on my right and Gray on the left. It was my favourite spot to be these days.

I felt Mitch stir beside me and blink awake. He smiled wide and put his hand on my tummy where a baby was moving.

"Morning sunshine." I said running my hand through his hair.

"Mornin baby." 

"You feel the babies?"

"Yeah there's one right beside me. Kicking me in the head. I love it. I love you. I can't wait to meet them."

"You're so sweet baby. I love you too."

"Oh year clear your schedule tonight babe. We're going on a date."

"Well I waaaas going to watch a  beach bargain hunt marathon but I suppose I can do that another night."

"Sorry to disrupt your big plans love but this is worth it I promise. I want to go out with you again before the babies get here."

"Don't be sorry lovey. I'd love to go on a date with you. How fancy do I need to get?"

"You can wear whatever you want. I'm gonna be in a button down shirt with some nice jeans. You wear what you like. We'll be outside for a bit though so keep that in mind."

"Mitchy it's April!"

"Yeah but the snow is gone. It'll be only a little cold."

"I'm still on board babe you don't need to convince me." 

"Okay good." He gave me a kiss and we just cuddled together for a while. Mitch was happy to just lay there for hours with his hands on my belly. It was really sweet. Eventually Grayson woke up though so cuddle time was over.

"Hi baby."

"Hey little man, how was the nap?"

"It was good daddy. The baby kicked me."

"Do you want to make a fun craft with me today?" I asked him trying to tame his wild hair.

"Yeah! What kind of craft?"

"A new one. We haven't done this one before."

"Let's go right now!" He said jumping on the bed.

"Okay honey let's go."

I got up with no help from Mitch who was dying laughing watching me struggle with my giant tummy. I brought Gray downstairs and started getting the supplies out. Once I was done I put Grayson in his booster seat so he could reach the table and I sat beside him.

"What are we doing mommy?"

"Well grandma made some little ocean onesies for the babies and I thought we could colour them in together. There's four so pick two that you want to do."

"I want the poptopus."

"That's octopus love. Octopus."

"Octopus. I forgot." He said giggling making me smile.

"Which other one do you want to do?"

"I want to do  free Willy!"

"Okay so you get octopus and the whale, and I get jellyfish and the seahorse?"

"Yes!"

"Okay here are the markers. It's just like your colouring books. Do whatever you want. Sound good?"

"Yeah!"

We coloured together for a long time. Mitch had left for practice so it was just me and my boy drawing together with some music in the background. I had finished my jellyfish and gray was done with the orca. He wanted free willy to look like free willy so he was only one colour.

"Are you colouring one special for each one?"

"Octopus is for Marly."

"So Willy is for baby brother?"

"Yup. What's his name gonna be?"

"We haven't decided yet. It's a big job naming a person ya know."

"How come?"

"It's just that they'll have their names forever. You want it to be a good one."

"Oh okay." He was quiet for a while before he asked, "When will the babies get here?"

"In a little while. Pretty soon actually. The doctor thinks they're going to come early even."

"I hope so. I can't wait."

"Me neither Gray. I'm very excited to meet them."

We kept colouring until Mitch came back home with William.

"Hey guys what's going on?"

"Uncle Willy!! We're colouring for the babies, look!" 

"Wow Gray you've done a really great job!"

"Thanks."

"Are you ready to come stay with me tonight?"

"Yeah!"

"We can eat pizza and ice cream and watch movies while mommy and daddy have boring adult time. Sound like a plan?"

"It's a plan!" He said giving William high ten.

"I think Mitchy packed a bag already." I said getting up. Mitch and Gray went upstairs to get him ready.

"Jeeez babes you're giant!"

"Thanks William I really needed that today." I said punching his shoulder.

"I'm just kidding (y/n)."

"The doctor thinks the babies are gonna be huge."

"Not good news for you."

"Meh I'm not too concerned. My body is built to do it."

"You excited for your last date for a while?"

"I am excited yeah. I don't know what we're doing or what I'm going to wear. I dont even know if I have anything nice that still fits. Aw man I'm gonna look like a slob for Mitchy." I whined.

"No you won't. You'll look beautiful and you'll have an amazing time. I promise you."

"I hope so. I've been really nervous lately about that. I feel like I've let myself go and Mitch is going to think I'm ugly and gross."

"Hun, you don't have to worry about that at all. He talks about you constantly. About how beautiful you are and about how he loves you more every day."

"That's crazy."

"He really loves you."

"I love him too. So much. Will I never thought I'd be so in love with someone."

"I'm happy for you." He gave me a hug as the boys came back in. "You ready to go little man?"

"Yeah let's go."

"Can I have a hug bye love?"

"Of course mommy." He ran over and hugged me tight. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and then patted my belly. "Bye bye babies."

"Bye Grayson."

"Love you mommy. Love you daddy." He said going to give Mitch a hug and kiss too.

"Bye buddy. We'll see you tomorrow morning okay?"

"Okay. Bye daddy. Bye mommy." He said dragging William towards the door. I started cleaning up our craft supplies and I heard Mitch talking to William.

"He needs to be in bed by 8:30. That's giving him an extra hour and a half after bedtime. If you feed him after 6 give him something a little healthy. (Y/n/n) prefers it. Also if anything happens call, we'll answer-"

"Marner, we're good. You guys enjoy your night. Good luck man."

"I hope it goes well."

"It will. You've got this." They were quiet for a minute before William spoke again. "Bye (y/n) have fun!"

"Bye boys! See you tomorrow."

I heard the door close and Mitch can in. He stood in the doorway for a minute watching before coming in and wrapping his arms around me from behind. Not an easy task with my giant tummy but he managed. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and I smiled leaning back against him.

"What did you guys do today?"

"We drew these for the babies." I said laying them out. "I just need to put them in the dryer to lock in the markers because I can't be bothered to iron them. Then they'll be baby ready."

"These are so cute."

"Gray made that one for Marly and this one for baby boy."

"Who are yours for?"

"Either one, I don't really care. I think I'm going to bring his to the hospital as babies first outfits. With the hats he picked out."

"I like that idea."

"Just another little thing that can really make Gray know he's part of this too."

"I love it. You're so thoughtful in everything you do. I just can't believe how lovely you are."

"Mitchy stoop." 

"Never." He turned me around and gave me one kiss which led into multiple kisses. "Okay no time for this right now. We need to go get dressed for our date."

"Okay." I gave him one last kiss and we made our way up into the big closet. I started looking through my clothes that still fit while Mitch got dressed in the room. He came in looking hot as ever and it made me feel even more nervous.

"What's wrong babe? You look sad."

"I'm gonna look ugly and embarrass you." I said sadly as a tear slipped out.

"Hey love, no you won't. I think you look absolutely gorgeous."

"Even with a giant bump?"

"Especially with the giant bump." He kissed my forehead and started looking through my clothes. "How about the blue dress you wore for the maternity pictures last week? That'll still fit right?"

"I hope so. Thank you Mitchy."

"You're welcome baby. Now get dressed and we'll be out of here."

I was lucky that the dress still fit. I was also lucky Mitch didn't get a car that was low to the ground because there'd be no way I'd get out of that. We drove a little ways to a nice restaurant we liked. The dinner wasn't very eventful. We talked a lot about hockey, a lot about Gray and how we're going to still give him attention with the babies. We talked about ourselves too and how we felt which was a nice change. After dinner we were walking around a small park near the arena talking more about the babies.

"We really need to decide a name lovey. It's getting so close."

"It's not that close. May 26th is still pretty far yet."

"Baby please be serious."

"I'm still really liking Dexter."

"I've been thinking about Dexter a lot too. Pretty much as soon as you said it I loved it."

"So let's call him Dexter. Dexter Joseph Marner. It's perfect."

"It is perfect. I love it. Baby Dexter and baby Marly. So precious."

"I'm glad we decided." He said swinging our hands. "Let's go inside and warm up a bit."

"Are we allowed?" I hadn't even noticed that we were at the arena until he was opening the door.

"Course we are. Come on."

"Where are we going Mitchy?"

"To the family room, come on." He dragged me all through the arena until we got there. Once we did he stood with me in the middle of the room.

"What's going on Mitchy?" I asked smiling at him softly.

"This is where I first met you. Where I first laid eyes on you. I heard you laughing and joking with Willy and my heart beat faster. I didn't ever even let myself get my hopes up that you'd ever have feelings for me. Then you got with Auston and I hated how you got so quiet and hidden away. Then you guys were off and you were your normal self again. Then you were back on and it hurt so bad seeing you taken by someone who really didn't appreciate you at all."

"Mitchy I'm sorry-"

"Babe let me finish please?"

"Okay sorry go ahead." I said giggling making him laugh and kiss me quick.

"Anyway then you guys were off again and you had little Gray in your belly. I wanted to be around constantly for both of you as whatever you needed. Then I kissed you and you kissed me and it all just blossomed into this amazing beautiful relationship. And now we're making our family bigger. I've never been happier than I am now."

"I never thought I'd be this happy Mitch. I mean that."

"I'm so in love with this family we're making. And I'm so in love with the way our life together is going. And most of all I am so, so, so in love with you (y/n)."

"Mitchy you're going to make me cry. I love you." I kissed him again and wiped my eyes when we broke apart.

"I guess there's just one more sappy sentimental thing left that I need to say." He lowered himself down to one knee and I started crying.

"Mitchy."

"(Y/n), you're my best friend in the whole world, the love of my life, and the mother of my children." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a box.

"Mitchy. Oh my God." I wiped my eyes and laughed as he opened the velvet box.

"Will you now please, please, please be my wife?"

"Yes. Yes! Mitchy of course! Yes!" He slid the ring on my finger while I cried into my hand. "God I love you more than I could ever express."

"I love you." He smiled and kissed me. It didn't work out great since we were both smiling and crying but it was the best feeling in the world. "I'm so glad you said yes."

"You thought I'd say no?!" I asked shocked.

"Well I thought you'd say yes because you've said you want to spend your life with me but we never talked about getting married."

"Lovey I would never think twice about promising myself to you forever in front of everyone. You're it Mitchy."

"I'm so happy."

"Me too."

"Let's head home. As sweet as this moment is, I really want to go home and spend the night with you. But first. I want to take a picture of you."

"But Mitch I look like a mess, I've been crying."

"Just cover your face with your left hand then. I think you've never glowed brighter the whole time I've known you. You're beautiful.

"Fine take the picture."

He did and he posted it on our way back to the car. I got a notification from Instagram and opened it to find me with a caption that said. 'April 29th 2020 she said yes'. It was simple but it was perfect and I told him that much. As we drove home I was floating so high in the clouds I didn't think I'd ever come down.