#their lips look horrible in the sketching stage

[luckytidbit]

Hydrangeas are the last flower I should’ve done for this piece HOLY FRIG!

[justanamesstuff]

All I Need

Chapter 7

Matty Healy!dad x f!reader

A/N: what was promised is debt! I'm uploading it hours earlier than I was planning...I really hope you enjoy it, guys. It's a BIG ONE! I'm so nervous about it! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ♥ Thank u for reading and supporting!!

Warnings: explicit +18 scenes MINORS DO NOT INTERNACT!; swearing; angst; crying; typos.

Word count: 12.5 K (sorry not sorry haha)

MASTERLIST

2 weeks later…at home.

Y/n felt pathetic checking her phone like a teenager waiting for her crush to reply and keep the conversation going. She left the device on the kitchen table as if it burned her hand; returning to the list of emails waiting for her. No matter how hard she tried to focus on her tasks, her attention was else where.

Since her phone call with Grace – after the horrible second date —, she tried to give Paul a real chance. It was the only reasonable option. ‘Matty doesn’t want to be with me, Paul does, right?’, Y/n repeated like a mantra.

Therefore, Paul and Y/n had been texting none stop, like –literally– teenagers. Everything went smoothly, until it didn’t. A few days before, Paul stopped answering suddenly; making Y/n felt awful. She didn’t talk about it with Grace, not even with Matty. Y/n felt childish; she tried to think that Paul was probably busy with work, and she was being irrational about everything.

Y/n was sulking, when her phone started ringing. It took seconds for her to reach for it. Paul was calling.

“Hello?” She answered, trying to keep her feelings at bay. 

Paul started talking at the other end of the line. “Hi, darling.”

“Hi…” ‘What should I say?’, she wondered. 

“Are you at home? Are you busy?” He asked quickly, almost, desperate.

Y/n felt uncomfortable with Paul’s approach. “I’m home and…depends. Why?” She inquired him. 

His hot and cold attitude surprised her, at the same time, it made her wonder. Made her worried, to the point of pondered multiple scenarios about what was really going on with Paul.

“What about if I pick you up in…” He started saying. Y/n waited him to finish his phrase, hanging from each word. “Let’s say, one hour?” 

Y/n bit her lower lip. “For what?” 

“I have an evening event, work thing…it won’t last long, and then we can go to a nice restaurant…or to my house, if you like…” Paul suggested lowering his voice. 

Y/n felt the impulse to say no, but remembered Grace’s words. “Okay. Should I dress up or something?” She consulted, feeling her pulse going wild.

“No, no…it’s a little bit formal, not too much though.” He explained, at the same time, Y/n could hear a second voice speaking at the other end. Maybe an assistant, maybe not. Y/n shocked her head, she was looking too much into this.

“Okay, fine.” Y/n finally agreed to it.

“Perfect, you’re a saint!! See you in an hour!” He hung up without giving Y/n the chance to say her goodbyes.

Y/n stared at her black screen, her mind razing with thoughts. She needed to ask Matty or Grace to look after Amelia for the evening, possibly for the entire night. She decided asking Grace was the best decision.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Le grand salon, 

Center of London.

Y/n felt like a fish out of the water around those people. Paul left her as soon as they arrived, promising her to be right back after talking with a few important CEOs or whatever. Y/n sipped from the champagne they were serving. It tasted awful, but she was past the mood stage of having enough anger to complain. 

She tried to wait patently for Paul to return, for someone to be remotely nice. Although, after an hour and a half of walking around the salon, gaining sketched looks from Paul’s co-workers or people there –she thought worked with/for him–, Y/n was done with standing like part of the decoration. Y/n decided to actually search for the man.

Y/n looked around before leaving the safety of the corner that hosted her. He wasn’t at any part of the salon, she looked around multiple times, expecting to find him. Nothing.

Defeated and ready to leave, Y/n approached a man she saw Paul greeting with a friendly hug after they arrived together. Maybe he knew where Paul was. 

She touched him on his shoulder, “Excuse me.” Y/n cleaned her throat. The man in questions turned around after pausing his conversation, looking at her as if he was ten feet above Y/n. She felt tiny. 

“What do you want?” The man spat at her.

Y/n tried not to feel interpellated by his poisonous words. “Do you know where Paul is?” She queried, arranging her form to look bigger and stronger than she felt inside.

“No, haven’t seen him in a few minutes.” He replied, starting to turned back around. Y/n stopped him. “What now?” He almost shouted at her.

“Have you seen where he went?”

“No. Fucking hell, search the patio… at the back… or, the bathroom. I don’t know, I don’t care. Bye.” He ended the conversation all at once.

The idea of leaving without Paul crossed Y/n’s mind, although she quickly brushed it off. Where was he?

The wonder made her walk to try the places the man mentioned. It was the last chance, if he wasn’t there she was going to leave without caring. 

Y/n felt pathetic walking down the long alley between the grand salon and the patio. She felt bad to even care about this people’s treatment, they were all horrible. Y/n was mad at Paul again; because he left her alone, yes, but also because he wasn’t in fact the Prince Charming she expected. Y/n felt like her own error to pretend him to be that. 

Her heels stopped making a rhythmic sound on the tiled floor when she stood at the opening door connecting with the back patio. A couple of little groups of people were smoking, even though Paul wasn’t there. 

“Sorry,” She interrupted the closest group’s conversation. “Do you know Paul?” 

“Yeah.” A woman said shortly. 

“Great! By chance, have you seen him?” Y/n asked innocently, gaining a sceptical look from the woman. 

“Um, yeah, he’s…” She looked around the group, as if she was expecting some kind of help. She continued. “He’s in the bathroom-”

“Perfect, thank you!” Y/n felt relief washing over her, turning around to finally found the person she had been looking for. 

The woman spoke from behind Y/n, “If I were you, I won’t go there.” She was clearly trying to warn her, Y/n feared the worst. 

Her feet moved as if they had life of its own; Y/n crossed the hall, reaching for the bathroom area. The sounds coming from the lady’s bathroom confirmed her fears. 

Y/n pushed the door open. The picture in front of her broke her heart. Paul was between a pretty girl’s legs, with his pants all the way down, clearly pushing inside her. Both of them repeating the sounds she had been hearing from outside. Paul was fucking another girl.

“Oh my god!” Y/n could only say, making them stopped immediately. 

The girl looked at her in shock, poking her face from behind Paul’s neck. “Fuck…” She breathed out.

Y/n stood there, with her head foggy, just staring at them. The girl looked back at Y/n, she looked familiar. Y/n shook her head, she didn’t care up to that point.

The girl was seated on the bathroom counter and Paul was still in front of her, not moving away. They had been fucking while she waited like a moron.

“Y/n!” Paul exclaimed, tugging his trousers up – or trying to —, failing miserable. His voice took her out of her hypnotic trance.

“Fuck no.” Y/n told her. “I’m leaving!” She pointed at Paul, feeling her eyes burning with tears. “Don’t call me, don’t text me…nothing, I don’t want to know anything about you, arsehole!” Y/n let her anger took over. 

She stumbled through the venue as fast as she could. Y/n wanted the refuge of her house, of her home. She needed Grace and to hug Amelia.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Living room, home.

Grace felt worried immediately as she saw Y/n appeared on the living room. Her makeup was all mushed and running all over her face, the pair of heels on one hand and her hair all messed up.

“What happened to you?” She approached her friend, leaving Amelia on the floor playing. 

Y/n tried to form a sentence, but nothing came out of her mouth. She was still too stunned to speak. Grace didn’t think twice, embracing her in a big hug. 

“It’s okay, I’m here…we’re here.” She rocked Y/n from side to side. 

After a few minutes, Amelia noticed her playing partner wasn’t beside her and looked for Grace. Noticing her mother was there too. “Mommy!” She greeted her. 

Grace let her go, shielding her from the child’s view until Y/n ran her hands under her eyes, trying to get rid of the makeup as best as she could. 

“Hi, baby.” She kneeled down, opening her arms. Amelia ran to her. 

Y/n started to crying in silence when she felt the soft weight of Amelia pushing on her chest. She gave her mother a comfort she wasn’t aware of. Amelia grew bored after a little time, returning to her toys. Y/n stayed down on her knees, looking at her daughter. 

Grace kept a close eye on her friend’s form during the whole interaction. “Y/n, go and get change, clean your face…whatever you need. I’ll make a cup of tea, and then we can talk, okay?” Grace commanded Y/n.

“Yes. Thank you.” Y/n agreed.

******************************************************************************************

After she did everything as Grace told her – because Y/n hadn't had the strength to do anything apart from that – she returned downstairs. 

Graces awaited for her in the living room, watching Amelia live inside her own bubble of imagination and games. Y/n sited besides Grace on the big couch, looking at the toddler as well. 

The mugs were steaming in the coffee table. “Come on, take a big sip.”

The tea was strong, very sweet for her liking, but it was a consolation at the same time. “He was with another girl.” Y/n told Grace, her sight still on her daughter, while she held the cup closer to her face. 

“What?”

“He left me for an hour and a half, almost two hours…alone. I went searching, he was…you know…with another girl, on the bathroom counter. Not any other girl, the one from the park…”

“I’m going to kill him!” Grace stood up as if she was going to do it right there. 

“Sit back down!” Y/n instructed her best friend. She desperately needed her close, not far away – committing a crime, metaphorically or not.

Grace couldn’t contain her surprised, while she sited back. “I can’t believe it. My cousin Paul?”

“Yes, your Prince Charming cousin Paul…” Y/n forced herself to take another sip of her infusion.

“He’s such an arse-”

“Language!”

“She needs to know men are horrible.” Grace justified herself, pointing towards Amelia. “And what did you do?”

Y/n recalled the situation on her head. Her hands shock a little around the tea cup. “Scream at him, told him not to reach out, and stormed out.”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Grace apologized genuinely. If it wasn’t for her, Y/n would never have known Paul. If she had never let Y/n’s get away with her way, asking for Paul’s number, she would never be in that situation; trying to hold the tears back because she didn’t want Amelia to suffer seeing her upset. 

“It’s not your fault, Grace.” Y/n took Grace’s on her own, she squeezed it.

“I feel like it is. He’s my cousin-” Grace insisted. 

“You’re not responsible for your cousin’s actions.”

“Still.”

Y/n knew Grace enough to keep insisting. Instead, she decided to leave it be for now. She was convinced Grace wasn’t guilty of his sorrows. The only one in the wrong was Paul, and her too. 

She felt the tears coming back. 

Y/n self-reproached herself while she asked Grace, “Can you take Amelia to your house? I don’t want her to see me like this. I can ask Matty, but he’s working on the last album…” Y/n started to ramble. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can have a pyjama party.” Y/n’s friend tried to erase the guilt. Y/n was in her right to take some time-off from parenting.  

“Thank you.” Y/n said while her voice broke.

Grace felt a wave of worry. “Oh, no…you sure you want to be alone?”

“Mhm…” Y/n reply through her bitten lips.

“You call me if you need me, okay? I’ll be here in a heartbeat, yes?” Grace insisted, making Y/n to turned her head to the side. She searched on Y/n’s eyes for some sort of reassurance that she was indeed going to be okay staying on her own.

“I know, Grace. Thank you.”

“Stop that…I love you…I’m so sorry.”

Grace pushed Y/n on a new hug, rubbing her back. Y/n let some tears drop in silence, while hugging her friend back. 

“I love you too.” Y/n mumbled on her shoulder. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the couch…

Y/n dried the tears from her eyes. Her whole face was hurting. Her eyes were moisturized but by all the wrong reasons; her head was pounding loud, making here wince with pain. She felt so pathetic, crying for a man. She never learned to pick the right ones, apparently. 

‘It was my fault or the guys I chose? What was wrong?’, Y/n recriminated herself.

She wasn’t asking for a fairytale. Y/n wanted a true man, someone who can be there for her, someone wanting to share life with her. Apparently, it was a lot to ask.

Y/n let her body fall into the couch, closing her eyes. Wishing, praying, this was a bad joke, a dream; whatever instead of this stupid situation. Paul was an asshole, why was she crying about an idiot who didn’t deserve her sorrow?

Y/n groaned loud and turned around, screaming into the cushion; trying to get reed of part of the angsty feeling. She wasn’t aware someone else was hearing her download. 

“Y/n?” Matty asked out of the blue, scaring her.

“Jesus, Matty! You scared the shit out of me!” She prompted herself enough to turned around and saw his face, without leaving the couch. Y/n returned to her previous position, laying down. 

“Sorry.” He apologized. Y/n heard him walk closer to her. “Are you okay? Where’s Amelia?” He was crunched down at her right side.

“Grace took Amelia to her flat…I needed a minute alone, and you-” Y/n dodged his first question purposely. 

He interrupted her, worried. “Why?”

“Don’t ask, Matty.” Y/n massaged her temples roughly, the headache persisted.  

“Should I worry?” Matty moved her hair to uncover her face; he wanted to find answers on her factions at least. 

“Yes…no. I don’t know-” She turned to the side, looking directly into his eyes. The soft blue glow of the TV was illuminating her face, meanwhile the orange light coming from the hall reflected on Matty's factions. 

He went, without thinking, to caressed her cheek. “Y/n, please.” She closed her eyes before his plead. 

Keeping her ground, she muttered. “Prince Charming wasn’t so charming after all.” Y/n tried to hold a whimper, against of the idea of sounding like a fool.

“Paul?” Matty inquired.

“Yes, him…” Y/n spoken as if she was naming the devil himself. 

Matty started to fear the worst. If that fucker did something to her, he wouldn’t respond of his actions. His heart was pounding hard on his chest when he asked, “What did he do? Did he-” 

“No, no.” Y/n lift her head, resting her weight on her elbows. “Nothing like that- He was seeing another girl…a co-worker, or maybe she wasn’t a- I don’t even know. Maybe he was going out with other girls too. Fucking with them. Heck-The possibilities are infinite…” 

Matty stayed on his place, beside the couch, clenched down, battling with his head. He didn’t know what to say or do too, he didn't want to make her feel worse. Matty stated his case before about not liking Paul, even though this was about Y/n, not him or his opinions. 

“How did you find out?” His words were careful, Y/n noticed.

Y/n let her body fall again on the comfort of the couch. “I saw him fucking a girl…a girl we bumped into before.. In a bathroom at his work event, after he left me for hours alone-” 

Her sight was on the ceiling, she couldn’t look at Matty and saw the pity on his eyes. Not from him.

“Y/n…” 

“I think she wasn’t the only one he was with…” She continued to ramble about her thoughts she went through after Grace left with Amelia. Y/n was conscious she was spiralling, but her mind couldn’t help it. The repeating conspiracy theory making her feel sink even deeper on a hole of sadness and self-pity was on.

“Baby…” Matty tried.

“Don’t pity me, Matty. Not you.” Y/n tried to hide her face behind her hands. Her voice came muffled from behind them.

“Do you want me to go and kick him down from his white horse?” Matty tried to get rid of some of the tension. He kicked himself for trying to joke when things get complex, although he didn’t know what else to do. Matty wanted – needed – to make Y/n feel good again.

Y/n’s body shook with laughter. Matty smiled at her. “Not worth it.” Y/n finally admitted.

“It’s if it makes you feel better, baby, it is.” Matty said, his words dripping with sincerity and full of his own emotions. 

Y/n spoke again after a short silence, “Why I didn’t see it sooner?”

“No, no…” Matty started, pushing her a little further into the couch, making space beside Y/n’s form. He let his left arm served as a pillow for her head, simultaneously, his right hand touched her owns, uncovering her face. “This is not your fault, at all!” Matty held her face, so she was looking at him. 

Y/n diverted her eyes, further. She felt something, she couldn’t quite place, looking at Matty’s soft eyes. “I should-”

“Nothing. You should nothing. He’s the wanker here, not you…you did nothing wrong.” Matty insisted.

“Matty?”

“Yes?”

“Since you’re a guy-”

“Up to discussion-” 

“Why they don’t like me? There’s something wrong with me?”

Matty stopped breathing for a second, his body started to felt hot, and he was too aware of his heartbeat. ‘How could he tell her without actually telling her?’, he debated with himself.

“Love-” Matty tried to gain some time.

Y/n had other plans, she insisted, “Seriously, tell me.”

“Y/n there is nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with you…” Matty told her without lying.

She continued spoken up her wonders, “Am I ugly? I think I look okay…No, don’t answer! This is so dumb. Fuck-” Y/n started to lift her body from the couch, she wanted to hide in the safety of her bed. 

Matty was quicker and pushed her –without too much force– back down again. He was almost on top of Y/n, making her blush strongly like a teen. 

“Stay here and listen to me….listen to me.” Matty accentuated every word.

Y/n tried to protest, failing. “Matty.”

He took a minute to think what to say. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Far from that. You’re the prettiest girl walking this town, this earth-”

“No.” Y/n interrupted.

“Yes. You’re so gorgeous, baby. From all perspectives. You’re one of a kind. There’s no one like you…I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Y/n.” Matty’s words brought tears to her eyes. There was something unspoken under his words, something she wanted from him but was scared to acknowledge it at the same time.

Y/n rounded him with her arms, running her hands through the curls on the nape of his neck. “Matty?” She asked.

“Yeah?” Matty replied, feeling weak from the proximity and Y/n’s touch.

A force was pulling him down, closer to her face, until their noses touched. Matty breathe deeply, surrounded by her essence. 

“Please.” Y/n begged.

“What?” He asked, brushing her nose with his own.

“I need you.” Y/n implored through half open eyelids. 

Matty tried to reason with her, “Y/n, you’re upset.”

He was against taking advantage of her. Y/n was still very perturbed about the evening events. No matter how much Matty wanted her to ask him to be with her, to love her, to take care of her, he had to hold his ground. 

“Yes, I’m fucking pissed…and I want you, please.” Y/n pushed her body up, coming in contact with his front. 

“Baby-” Matty placed a comforting hand on her left hip. His mind started to fogged, he needed to stay composed. This was about Y/n, not him.

“Fine.” Y/n spat, angry, moving from under Matty. “I’ll find someone…at least-” Y/n started to say when she finally was again on her feet.

Little she could let out before Matty took her by the arm, crushing his lips to hers. Y/n didn’t reciprocate at first, although her whole body woke up after a long slumber. Every single part of her was on fire, asking to be touched. To be touched by Matty, him and only him. 

Matty grabbed her face with both of his hands, keeping her in place, letting Y/n go wasn’t an option now. No after so many years apart. Y/n kissed him back, holding her own self from his neck, feeling weak on the knees. 

Matty noticed her body trying to sink down and held her by her waist. He noticed, because he always noticed every one of her needs. 

Kissing Matty again was like coming home after a long trip, to your own house and the comfort of your stuff. Kissing Matty once again felt like returning home. 

He broke the kiss to take some air. Y/n opened her eyes, looking up at him. He’s searching for any sign of doubt. Still with the pounding feeling of not taking advantage of Y/n.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” Matty spoke, low, brushing their lips together.

“Mhm.” Y/n confirm her desire, tightening her grip on his neck, meanwhile she approached her body to his.

“Words. I need words.” Matty persisted on. 

Y/n arched her back, “Please, I can’t wait any longer.”

Matty looked at her eyes; his deepening by lust. “You don’t have to…” He finished it, gifting her a smile.

Y/n pushed him back down again, crushing their lips together once more. She remembered how addicting it could be kissing him. Matty explored every corner of her mouth like an expert explorer, he hadn't forgotten her weak spots. Y/n moaned without caring.

The sweet sound coming from her, made Matty push back and asked her in a hurry, “Your room or mine?” 

“Yours.” Y/n sentenced. 

************************************************************************************************

When Matty shut his bedroom door close, all the rush was gone. Y/n waited at the end of his bed, looking around. She hadn’t been there except from a few times. The bed was newer from the one he had back on his flat, and the decoration changed as well. Multiple guitars, a lot of pictures of Amelia and them adoring the walls. Even the mess of clothes wasn’t there, he was strangely more organized now, more mature Y/n supposed. 

Matty’s arms rounding her took Y/n out of her scrutiny; he brushed her hair out of her neck, leaving kissing here and there. Nibbling on the exposed skin, bringing goosebumps into it. Matty smiled to himself. Y/n closed her eyes, placing her hands on top of his on her stomach. The memories of him caressing Y/n’s belly when she was pregnant came to her, every touch is full of their history. 

Matty's hands sneak under her shirt, coming in touch with her bare skin. He pushed Y/n’s body back towards his body, making his clothes dick came in contact with her bum. Matty groaned on her neck. Y/n kept rocking her hips back, searching for friction.  

“Can I take it off?” He asked slowly, tugging on the shirt. 

“Yeah.” She said breathlessly.

Y/n turned around inside his embrace, Matty reached for the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it up. Y/n couldn’t help to feel self-conscious in front of Matty without her top on, only in a black bra and her pyjama pants. Even though, he’s focusing on her face and nothing else. Matty still worried she didn’t want to go further. Y/n connected her eyes with his, smiling shy. 

“Beautiful.” He stated, holding the left side of her neck.

“Stop-” Y/n blushed.

“Never. Come here.” 

Matty pressed their chests against each other, savouring her mouth once more. Matty felt complete; having Y/n on her embrace was what he had been wishing for years. He noticed a little wave of panic, what if I’m not enough for her?

Although, Y/n was very pleased already by everything, even when she was merely touching the skin hiding under his shirt. Y/n’s touch reached first the hairy skin of his abdomen, and made a trail until she felt his back. He was bulkier now than she remembered, there were a lot of muscles to held onto now. Without her asking, Matty went to take off his t-shirt. Both of them longing for the skin to skin contact.

Once his chest was fully visible, Y/n detached her lips from Matty’s. Inspecting the expanse of it. She kneeled down, kissing the centre of his chest. Matty couldn’t help to reach for the back of her head, feeling like his dreams were coming true. Y/n diverted her attention to his nipples, feeling encouraged by the moans he was letting out.

She tried to kneel down all the way to her knees, starting to unbutton his trousers, but Matty tried to stop her, “Y/n.”

Y/n ignored his weak protest, going for his boxers, although Matty paused all of her actions; he brought her back up by her chin. “No.” He said, sternly.

“But I want-” Y/n whined. 

“Later. Now it’s about you, darlin’.” Matty let Y/n know his intentions for the night.

Matty started to pull her trousers off, after she signal him to go on with it. Y/n wiggled out of them, and the self-consciousness came back running. She wasn’t expecting to end the night like this when she changed after the fatidic event. Her bra and undies were far from sexy or even matching.

“Sorry about this.” She tried to apologize.

Matty chuckled, brushing the embarrassment off, or trying to. “Don’t. I have the solution for that.” He said instead cheekily.

“What?”

“Here.” 

In a few instants, Y/n was fully naked, standing in front of Matty. The singer feeling ecstatic with his simple work, resulting on having her entirely naked in front of his eyes. She was too aware –for her liking– about the changes that happened to her body between the last time they had sex and now years after the birth of their child. Her body showed the permanent marks of her pregnancy. Sometimes she felt okay with them, but other times –like that moment– she despised them. 

Y/n went to shield her breasts, facing opposition from Matty, who took her arms sweetly. “Don’t-” He said, looking at her eyes only. “Can you lay down for me?” He said instead. 

“Okay.” She agreed, moving from the end of the bed where they had been standing. Y/n felt his sight on her, watching every move. She tried not to think at the moment she fell back on the mattress, in the middle of it, resting her head against the pillows. 

Matty got rid of his boxers slowly, but with decision. He watched Y/n leaned back awkwardly. What if she was regretting this?

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, without emotions.

Y/n looked at him worried, she didn’t want to stop. The idea of Matty not wanting to have sex with her would completely end up destroying her after the horrible day. “Do you?” She fought back. 

Matty noticed her face turned into a sad expression. He clarified, “Hell no…but I’ll if-”

Y/n let the air she didn’t notice she was holding, begging for him to come closer, “Please, come here.” She lifted her hand up in the air. 

Matty quickly obeyed her. Her wishes were truly his command. Specially during that night. He positioned himself, naked as the day he was born, on top of her. Without an exchange of words, Matty plopped down himself, kissing Y/n. 

She rounded him once more, feeling the hardness of his dick on her belly. Y/n could feel her body responding to the contact. 

Matty kissed all the way from her lips to the space connecting her face and neck. Y/n let the loudest whimper of the night when he sucked on there. She scratched his back, pushing him inevitably closer. Her nipples hard as sharp diamonds pressing on his chest. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so hot, baby.” Matty told her, leaving a trail of smooth pecks until his mouth came in contact with her right boob. Sucking with intention, as if he was starved and she was his nourishment. 

“Matty.” Y/n moaned at his acts, he remembered very well how sensitive were her nipples. How could he forget details about the love of his life?

“Yes, baby?” 

“Please. I need you.”

“Where?”

“Please…” Y/n’s mind couldn’t come up with a better word, or even formulate a phrase. 

“Where, sweet cheeks? Tell me…” He continued playing with her breasts, changing his focus to the left one. Matty let his right hand hold his weight, meantime his free hand held the fullness of her breasts. 

“Ugh, Matty…” She breathed out. “Touch me…down. I need you.” Y/n’s words came out all messy, and mispronounced. 

He returned to be face to face with her, while he let his hand get wet by his own saliva and returned –when he thought it what moisturized enough– to draw circles on her boob. “Can I eat you out, love? I’ve been missing your taste for ages.” Matty bluntly expressed. 

Her walls closing around nothing, making her hips lift to meet his. “Please.” Y/n agreed. The thought of him making her come with only his mouth sounded like heaven. 

“Greedy girl.” Matty called her out, drawing a path with his fingers from the underside of her breasts, stopping at the top of her mound. He paused to admire her get lost under his touch. 

Before Y/n went to protest, Matty felt her slit from top to bottom with the digits of his fingers, slowly, testing her. “You are so wet.” It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. “All for me, baby?”

Y/n shake her head as a yes. She couldn’t keep her hips still, trying to make his fingers come in contact with her pulsing clit. “Stop teasing, Matty.” Y/n begged. 

“Shush, you have to be patient, baby.” He knew very well the effect of his nicknames on her. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen again…”

“Really?”

“Yes, so many times…” He said, trusting one finger inside her slit, making of her a whimpering mess. She wanted to ask him more about it, but all of her thoughts went out of the window. Y/n took the sheet at both sides on her fists, arching her back trusting forwards, so Matty’s finger touches her soft spot.

“Fuck, Matty!” Y/n breath out.

“You’re so tight, baby. I need to prepare you for me.” His hot breath coming in contact with her entrance, making her entire body shiver. 

“Please, more.” 

“Another finger?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my girl, taking my fingers so well”

“Matty-”

“I know, I know…don’t come before I say it, okay?”

“I don’t know if I can…I’m going-”

Matty stopped all of a sudden. “What the-” but before Y/n could complete the sentences, his mouth was on her, his tongue trusting inside her hole, making her head spin. The knot in her belly growing, making her dizzy, sensing her release closer again. 

Y/n came undone under Matty, merely seconds after he tasted her. He helped her surfed the orgasm, taking every drop of it. 

Once she came back to reality, her sight fell on Matty’s smugly expression, still closer to her pussy. 

“Good?” Matty asked, kissing her right thigh. 

“So good, babe.” She let out, closing her eyes. 

Matty went to kiss her, “Do you want to stop?” He asked once again. Y/n moaned, tasting herself on his mouth. She shook her head against the idea. Matty chuckled.

He looked at her enamoured, admiring her cheeks all blushed and her messy hair on his pillows. She was back, she was his again. 

“What?” Y/n asked, without understanding his pause, his staring. 

“Nothing.” He touched her slightly on her hip, drawing imaginary forms.

“Tell me..” She encouraged him. 

“I missed you.” He admitted one more time, feeling pathetic as a teenager screaming ‘I love you’ to his first sex partner. 

Y/n force him to look at her, keeping the eye contact, smiling wide. “I missed you so much.”

Matty scrunched his face, preventing himself to look completely warmed by her words. “Liar!”

“Excuse me?” She pushed his shoulder, protesting. 

“You went out with a wanker…” He regretted bringing Paul between them at that moment. 

Y/n didn’t take it, choosing to say, “Let’s not name the devil, please?”

“I’m not-”

“Besides, you fucked with pretty models-” She counter-attack, smiling wide. ‘Everything was okay, she was joking’, Matty reassured himself.

“Are you jealous, Y/l/n?” He asked, cheekily. 

Y/n was quick to answer. “As much as you, Healy.”

“No one compares to you, Y/n.” His sight dancing around her eyes. 

She threw her head back, whining in protest. “You can’t say that!” 

In fact, her heart was growing a couple of sizes with every sweet word he was drooping. 

“Why? It’s the truth!” Matty fought back, burring his face on her neck.

“Because- Nothing, not fair!”

“No, what?” Matty murmured, without leaving his position, crushing against her. Y/n let her hands roamed through his curls. How much she had missed doing it.

Y/n was against telling Matty how she was feeling, risking the moment to end. She chose to divert his attention. 

“Are we going to fuck or…?” 

Matty bursted into a fit of laughter, coming back to be face to face again. He could let her get out of that conversation for a little longer. Specially when his dick was hurtfully hard. 

“Are you begging, darling?” Matty said, brushing his lips with Y/n’s. She parted her mouth open.

“I’ll make you beg.” She declared.  

“A warning or a promise?”

“Both.”

Matty took her lips in a heated kiss, rocking his hips forward. Y/n felt bereaved enough to reached for his dick, stroking him slowly. 

“Fuck, baby.” Matty moaned on her mouth.

“You like that?”

“Aha-” He confirmed, losing his senses under her attentions.

“Words, babe.” Y/n teased him back. 

“Please-” Matty begged, trusting into her hand without control. 

“I’m not on the pill, Matty.” Y/n tried to inform him.

Matty snapped out, taking her words into account. “Okay, let me get a condom really quick.”

“Okay.”

Y/n watched him moved around his room. Opening drawers, bags and lastly his wallet finding one. She crooked an eyebrow, wondering in silence. 

Matty acknowledge her silent question. “It’s not like I’ve had sex in the last few months…” he said without looking at Y/n, feeling a little embarrassed, while he put the condom on.

“Sure… Or you used all of them…” Y/n felt light and happy, between passion and happiness. 

Matty shook his head. “Stop it-”

“Nah, I like messing with you…” She let him know. 

“Yeah, I can see.”

Matty returned to be on top of Y/n, she rounded him with her legs as a way to let Matty know she was more than ready. Matty went to obey her but stopped, kissing her sweetly. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes, please, Matty.” She was starting to get desperate without him inside.

“If it’s too much-” 

“Matty!”

“Fuck- Sorry, I’m a tad nervous…” Matty admitted for himself first, and for her too.

“Really?”

“Mhm…”

Y/n felt her chest get warm with his demeanour. Not many people knew how sensitive and fragile can Matty be in moments of intimacy. Y/n felt special when he communicated his emotions.

“Come here.” Y/n instructed him, resting her forehead on his and placing her arms –as well as her legs– around his body. “I want you. I want to feel you inside me…again.” She reassured Matty, holding the eye contact. Matty nodded with his head. 

He sank down without second thoughts. “Fucking hell!” Matty groaned while her walls took him in.

“Matty!”

“Y/n…”

Matty threw his head back, detaching his chest centimetres away from Y/n. She couldn’t help to admire –through half open eyes– his face turning by the pleasure. He was so pretty.

Matty whipped his head forward, cheeking on Y/n. “Are you okay? Tell me when I can move, baby. There’s no rush…” He reassured her, even when his words came all over together.

Y/n nodded as best as she could in her position, getting used to him. Matty studied her breath deeply, having some difficulty to adapt to his dick. 

After a few minutes, she signalled for him. “Matt-”

He didn’t wait for her verbal command. Matty trusted forward, and retracted all the way out. The tip of his cook coming to tease her clit. Y/n bit down on her lower lip hard. Matty wasn’t going to have it, he wanted to hear all of her sweet sounds. 

“Don’t hold it back, Y/n. I want to hear you.” He stated, releasing her lip with his finger.

Matty’s dick disappeared inside Y/n’s pussy under his watchful eyes. They fall quickly into a rhythm that worked for both of them. 

Shortly after, Y/n felt incredible close to the edge. “Matty, I’m going to-”

“I know, baby. Let it go for me” He allowed her. “You’re doing so well for me…taking me so, so well…” His words stumbled, while his trusts got rapid and sloppy. 

Y/n moaned, scratching his back, chasing the sweet twisted feeling inside her lower stomach. Even with her eyes close, everything went black when her orgasm finally hit her fully.  

Matty felt Y/n’s pussy clench around him fastening his movements until he was coming as well, screaming without caring, “Y/n!”

He kept it going until their bodies relaxed again, letting his entire weight fall on top of Y/n. She welcomed him happily.

****************************************************************

“Matt…” Y/n spoke after a few minutes.

Matty shivered on top of her, burring his face further into Y/n’s neck. “Mhm…”

“I need you to pull out.” Y/n let a nervous chuckled out. 

“Don’t wanna.” 

“Well, I see…but I need to use the bathroom, baby.” She insisted. 

“Fine.” 

Matty pulled out and moved to the side, letting her move freely. He wasn’t happy to let Y/n go so soon, even though he understood her request. 

Y/n left a kiss on the top of his head, before going to the bathroom. Leaving Matty alone with his thoughts. 

Matty was thorned between the euphoric feeling of his orgasm, his feelings, and the memory of Y/n crying on the couch when he came home after an exhausting day in the studio. He tried not to think about Prince Charming and his wishes to put him in his place. Instead, he let his right arm serve as a pillow for his head while he admired the ceiling.

Y/n and him had sex again. Y/n and him together. Those were the thoughts he chose to dive into. His hands ache for her skin, he wanted her close again. Matty tried to calm himself, Y/n was only meters away, and she was coming back. Y/n was coming back to his room, to him.

The idea only threatened when Y/n walk back inside the room and started to pick up her clothes that adored the floor of Matty’s room. 

“Are you leaving?” Matty desperately asked.

Y/n stood in the middle of Matty’s room, with half of her clothes, looking at him. “Shouldn’t I?”

“If you’re going to your room…I’m going there too-” Matty let her know, standing up from his side of the bed, getting the sheets out of the way dramatically.

“Cute.” Y/n laughed at his actions.

Matty, frozen beside the bed, exclaimed, “Please…” Offering his hand to Y/n.

“Look who’s begging now.” Y/n said amused.

She didn’t take his hand, roaming around the other side of the bed. Y/n stared at his eyes, with the place where they had sex minutes ago in the middle, almost challenging Matty. She broke the eye contact to get under Matty’s sheet with grace. He couldn’t only admire. 

Y/n pat on his side a few times, instructing him to get in. Matty followed shortly after, gaining a few laughs from her.

“Fuck, I’m not lying when I say I missed this…” Matty let her know, after her head fall into his chest.

The amount of times he thought about Y/n doing it again or the occasions she did years ago crossed his mind, and now were happening. He kissed her head repeatedly as a silent thanks. 

“Fucking or cuddling?” Y/n bantered.

“Both?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you feeling better?” Matty asked, still worried about Y/n’s feelings. 

She looked up towards his face. “So much better…thank you, Matty!” 

“My pleasure.” He winked suggestively. 

Y/n protested hitting him as a joke on his shoulder. 

Matty let his arms rounded her, swallowing her in a big hug that lulled them to a deep sleep.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day.

Matty woke up very early after a heated night. They woke each other up a few times in the middle of the night, not being able to be fully satisfied. So, he decided to let Y/n sleep for a bit longer until he had breakfast ready for her. 

The singer was in the middle of meal prepping when the doorbell rang. He swore under his breath, he was hopping Y/n didn’t hear it and woke up. Matty ran as fast as he could towards the front door, opening it with all his force.

“Fuck no, go away, mate.” He spat when his eyes fell on the man at the other side.

“I want to talk with Y/n, not you.” Paul tried to stay calm. 

Matty let a belly laugh out. “Well, she does not want to see you or speak to you.” He uttered his reasons to deny Paul the entrance to his house. 

Matty went to close the door, even though Paul was quick and put his foot to prevent that. The lead man moved the wooden door agape once more. 

“She can tell me that…what are you trying to do? Pretend to be the nice guy? You’re the asshole fucking around and leaving her alone-” Paul provoked Matty.

Matty tried with all his strength to not engaged on Paul’s game. He wanted to return to Y/n, that was kept him motivated against taking further actions. “I’m going to destroy your prince charming face if you don’t go the fuck away.” He threatened him. 

“Such a man, ha? You can’t keep her, but you don’t want anyone to have her..” Paul was good at this, Matty bit his tongue. 

“You’re pushing your chances, Paul. Leave my house!”

“It’s Y/n’s house as well.” Paul replied smugly. “I want to see her.” The man demanded. 

“You would’ve thought about it when you were fucking another chick.” Matty exposed Paul’s actions, which took the aforementioned by surprise.

“She told you?”

Matty wasn’t going to exchange more words with Paul. “Go…away.”

“No.”

He felt his fuse run out, decided this time to punch Paul once and for all. “Fine, you asked for it.” Matty tried to move forward, but a hand on his arm coming from behind prevent him from fulfil his wishes.

Y/n stood beside Matty, looking without believing who was in front of them.

“Paul?”

“Hi, darlin’.” He said, like nothing had happened the night before.

“He was leaving.” Matty touched Y/n’s hand as a reassurance, as a way to tell her he was there.

Paul looked at their hands intertwined. “No, I want to talk with you.” Paul kept pushing. 

“I told him you don’t want that-”

“Matty, please go inside. I’ll be there in a minute.” Y/n looked him in the eyes, squeezing his hand.

“Baby-” Matty protested, titling his head. 

“I’ll be short, okay?” 

Something inside her eyes communicated to him that she can manage with the douchebag. “Fine. Shout if you need me.” Matty finally gave in; looking at Paul, who looked back with a big winning smile. 

“I will.” Y/n simply kissed his cheek, and let him returned inside. 

Y/n waited for Paul to start talking, in reality she has nothing else to say. She didn’t understand how he had the face to appear on her house.

Paul went straight to the part that hurt his ego the most. “You told Matty about last night, Y/n?”

“I’m going to be brief, Paul.” She cut his speech. “I don’t have anything more to say apart from what I told you last night…in that bathroom. You left me alone for- I don’t even know for how long-”

“I’m sorry, Y/n. It’s all a misunderstanding.” He pulled a face as a cute, innocent puppy. She was not buying his facade any more. Paul showed his true colours the night before.

“What about Meredith? It’s a misunderstanding having your dick shoved down her, huh?” Y/n spat roughly. “Don’t take me for a fool, Paul.”

“Meredith? She wasn’t- The girl was…her name was-” He genuinely asked, making Y/n laugh sarcastically. He was truly an arsehole. 

“Fucking hell, you don’t remember the names of the girls you shag.” Y/n stated. 

Paul couldn’t fight against her accusations. “Y/n-”

“No, I don’t want to hear anything. I don’t care. You lost your chance.”

“So, what? You’re going back to the arsehole now?” Paul mentioned Matty with anger.

“That’s not your business, Paul. But for your information, that arsehole help me bring our daughter to this world and held me through the most horrible moments since I know him. Included last night. You don’t know him, you don’t know me, us…so stop talking shit! Bye, Paul.” Y/n stated her case and turned around without giving Paul time to react.  

Y/n closed the door. Keeping her eyes shut, resting her forehead on the door, until she heard the scratching sound of his car wheels announcing Paul’s depart. Y/n turned around on her spot, adamant to walk towards the kitchen but stopped dead on her tracks. Matty was staring at her with a big smile.

“You think that highly of me?” He asked her, which made her rolled her eyes. “Y/n?” Matty tried again, smiling at her.

“Maybe…” Y/n blushed visibly.

“Oh, you do!” He affirmed, catching her when she tried to pass by him. “You’re so cute!” He kissed her all around her cute blushing face.

Y/n felt the embarrassment all over her body. “Stop it.” She demanded, still inside Matty’s embrace. 

“You defended my honour…” He chanted too content. 

Y/n looked up at him, crooking her eyebrow, “I don’t think he was a real threat to your honour, Matty.”

“No, but still.” 

“Can we go and make breakfast, please?” Y/n tried to end the conversation, finally going to the kitchen.

Matty trailed behind her, saying, “Yes, my swordsman-Sorry, woman.”

“Idiot.” She faked to be annoyed.

“Are you okay?” Matty asked all of a sudden, returning to a more serious tone.

Y/n brushed him off, inspecting what Matty cooked for breakfast. “Yes, he’s an arsehole.” Y/n exclaimed.

“He definitely is. You deserve so much better.” The singer rounded her waist lovingly from behind.

“I don’t know…” Y/n couldn’t help to blush again. “Okay, breakfast, I’m starving!”

“Long night, huh?” Y/n laughed out loud at Matty’s seductive tone.

It was time for them to enjoy –finally– the morning together before Amelia returned home. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later…

An old episode of Brooklyn 99 was playing in the background, they paid attention to it from time to time when they weren’t making out on the couch. Jake was interviewing a victim, making her choose between suspects making them sing. 

Matty’s left arm was around her shoulders. He threw his head back, screaming –not singing– the lyrics of the Backstreet Boys’ song. Making Y/n laughed loud. They were waiting for Grace to drop Amelia back home. 

After the scene finished, Grace came through the living room door holding her goddaughter. The little girl wiggled out of her embrace when she saw her parents. They screamed and cheered for her, making space between their bodies.

“Hi, mel-mel!”

“Did you have fun with Grace?” 

Matty and Y/n spoke at the same time, Amelia felt good with all the attention of her parents on her. The little girl moved her focus from one to the other. Exclaiming, a cheerful, “Yes!”

They cheered back. Grace looked at them sceptical, trying to understand what was going on. The fresh memory of Y/n’s state last night was a big contrast with this happy girl sitting on the couch. Grace wanted only the best for her, even though she couldn’t connect the both versions -the day before, and the one in front of her. 

Grace opened her mouth to ask, but doing that implied breaking the happy bubble. A bubble that included Amelia. She wasn’t mean. So, she waited. 

“How was she?” Y/n asked her best friend. 

Y/n couldn’t help to feel a bit guilty about leaving Grace to take care of her daughter, even when she well knew it was for the girl’s and her own good.

Grace stared at her for a second. “Good, good…we ate dinosaur nuggets and chips, we saw Mulan…again. And then she slept like an angel, she’s truly the best.” She explained to Amelia’s parents, forgetting her doubts for a moment, just focusing on the little girl who smiled wide at her from the couch. 

“Thanks for that, Grace.” Matty told her. 

“It’s nothing…” Grace felt like a cat, paranoid, waiting for the moment to jump. “I love to help Y/n and spend time with Amelia”

Matty looked at Y/n, keeping his eyes on her, while Grace watched his point of attention. Weird, she thought. Y/n turned to look back at him, smiling when she noticed his eyes on her. Very peculiar, Grace sentenced inside her head.

 “So, what did you do last night?” Grace interrupted their moment. 

Y/n felt a hot feeling creeping from her chest towards her neck. Matty held a laughter and proceed to make an offer, “Do you want tea?” He asked suggestively, still looking at Y/n. 

“Shut it.” Y/n tried to stop him.

“What?” Grace felt like she didn’t get the joke.

“I’m going to leave you ladies alone” Matty stated, kissing Amelia’s cheek and proceed to do the same with Y/n. “Bye, Grace!” He wiggled his eyebrows, moving from the couch.

“Daddy!” Amelia called for him. 

“Yes, my dove?” He turned around. 

“Daddy, daddy-” She slid from the couch, approaching his legs running. 

“You want to come with me?” Matty asked down to her. Amelia said yes. “Okay, we’re going to start your training to be the biggest rock star…”

“Over my body, Healy.” Y/n joked.

“Nice name for her first song.” Matty winked at her, taking Amelia’s hand and leaving the room.

Y/n turned to gaze at Grace, who was still seated a few meters from the couch, on a puff couch, analysing her friend. 

“Yes, Grace?”

“What the fuck?” Grace screamed without being able to hold it. 

Y/n tried to play it cool. She knew she was going to tell her all the truth, but Y/n feared her best friend reaction. “What do you mean?”

“No!” She stood up. “You can’t play that card with me!”

“Which-”

“The dumb one. I repeat Y/n, what the actual fuck?”

“Grace-”

“No, nothing of ‘Grace’” She quoted on the air. “I took Amelia to my flat because you were a fucking mess-”

Y/n patently agreed with Grace. “Yes.”

“And now, I came back to this different you…” She continued explaining her point of view, moving her hands around Y/n’s form. “Cuddling Matty on the couch, laughing with Amelia…”

“Aha…”

Grace stared at Y/n. “So, explain, please!” She screamed again.

Y/n breath in deeply. That was the moment to tell her everything. “Are you done?” Grace shook her head as a signal for her to continue. “I’ve slept with Matty.” Y/n finally admitted.

Grace moved messily from the puff couch.“I’m leaving-” She  in fact moved towards the living room door.

Y/n stopped her. “Grace!” Couldn’t help to laugh about her antics. 

“You what?” Grace turned around asking. 

“And Paul came this morning trying to apologize…” Y/n felt a rather strange calm washing over her. 

“Did he? He dared to face you…in your house?” Grace wasn’t expecting this amount of information when she asked. 

“Yes, Matty tried to make him go away…I heard, and then I told him my final thoughts, asked him to leave, closed the door on his face”

“Oh my god!” Grace screamed. “But, but- How did you go from crying to fucking your ex?” Grace rounded back to the main information. 

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, smiling content, “It just happened, Grace.”

“But- what about…everything?” Grace was desperate to understand.

“I don’t know. I haven't thought about it…yet. I’m just enjoying it from the time being.”

“What if everything goes wrong?”

“I don’t know, Grace. I just know that I felt bad and Matty helped with it.” Y/n admitted.

Grace scoffed. “Yeah, I get that.” 

Y/n laughed. “He was really sweet. He tried to stop it, but I insisted-”

“Whore!”

“Hey!”

“And?”

“What?”

“How was he?” Grace inquired her.

“So good…excellent…I-” Y/n threw her head back, remembering her orgasms. 

“Are you delusional or is he that good?”

“He’s good, Grace.” Y/n kept her voice low, scared that Matty appear and hear her say it. 

“Why I asked? I don’t want to know!” Grace shield her ears, crushing her body on the couch beside Y/n.

Y/n chuckled. “He said he missed me…”

“He’s good with words!” 

“He sounded sincere.” Y/n stated. She had been thinking about it on and off during the entire day. Matty’s words and actions matched. 

“I bet.” Grace was getting cynical.

“Don’t be an ass.” Y/n tried to warn her friend because she got pissed.

“Fine, fine. I’m just worried.” Grace admitted.

“I’m okay, Grace.”

“Yes, now but what if…”

“We’ll see.”

“So, how this continues…are you guys back?” Y/n shrugged her shoulders. “Are you just fucking around?” 

“I don’t know…we can just call Matty back and…” Y/n started to get up, playfully suggesting it. 

“Please, no…god!” Grace took her hand, bringing her close again.

“I really don’t have the answers.” Y/n shared with Grace. She didn’t and it was alright for now. All happened the day before, the night before, it was too soon to know yet. 

“Aren’t you scared? After last night…”

“Matty is not Paul. I know Matty, I really know him…” Y/n was very sure of her words.

“Exactly, Y/n.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know his doings-”

“Don’t start with that. The time we saw each other -before having Amelia- he never.” Because Matty and her were in fact faithful to the other, even when they weren’t a formal couple. 

“I just want you to be happy.” Grace said, exposing her wishes. 

“I’m really content now…” Y/n tried to reassure her friend. It was cute from Grace to concerned about her. 

“Yeah, I’d be too after a good round of orgasms!” Grace mocked Y/n.

“Grace!”

“You can’t deny it…”

Y/n laughed. “No, I can’t”

“Oh my god!” Grace hide her face behind her hands. 

“Stop acting like a child!” Y/n accused her.

“Disgusting.”

“Idiot.”

“I guess- I want you and Amelia to be okay…” Grace stated, looking at the palm of her hands.

“I know, I appreciated that.” Y/n took one of Grace’s hands on hers. 

“I still haven’t had the chance to talk with my own cousin…and I don’t plan to be nice. If the rat does something to you two-” Grace felt the temperature of her body raise.

“You’ll be here to support us, nothing more.”

“Yes, but I also will kick-”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, fine. Promise me to be careful!” Grace pleaded. 

“When I wasn’t?”

“Don’t get me started on that…”

“Shut up.”

Grace decided to let the topic of Matty and Y/n go for now, she was still interested to know about his idiotic relative. 

“Go back to the ding-dong of my cousin coming to apologize, please!” 

Y/n continued to tell her the story without leaving details out. 

✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻✻

One month after, at the studio.

“Play it back” Matty instructed George to press play to the track they had been working on. 

George – without turning his attention from the computer– obeyed Matty’s order. The frontman turned around, looking at Ross swing Amelia from side to side. Her daughter was a big distraction during one of the busiest days for them, but Matty didn’t really care. Amelia could mess all the process and he would smile. 

Y/n had some errants to run through and asked Matty to take her with him, which he agreed happily. All the boys cheered for Amelia when they entered the studio. 

Matty looked at his phone once more, checking the hour and his messages. Nothing from Y/n. He felt like his young self waiting for his crush to answer. She promised to drop by and spend some time at the studio with them after she finished with everything. Matty was waiting –impatiently– for her arrival. 

Ross let his hair fall, hiding his face and falling all over Amelia’s little one. The girl laughed at Matty’s friend antics. 

“You’re not paying attention….” George scolded him from his chair, still not looking at Matty.

“I am, I am..”

“Yeah, sure.” Gorge sarcastically said. 

Matty rolled his eyes to the back of his head. “I’m paying attention, George.” 

“So, tell me what you think about the change I just did…” He challenged the frontman. 

Matty opened his eyes wide, looking up at George. They got themselves inside an eye battle. Matty looked down, defeated. 

“Fuck-” He mumbled.

“Right.” George smugly said.

“Keep it…and play it back.”

When George let his digits direct the mouse around the complicated program in front of his eyes, Adam and Y/n made their appearance thought the studio door. 

“Look how I found at the front door…” Adam said, suggestively, distracting the rest of his band and the little girl.

“Hey!” Matty cheered up, standing to come closer. 

He knew he couldn’t kiss Y/n there, with his child and bandmates around. Y/n and Matty agreed to not tell anyone about this new state of theirs relationship. Just trying to keep Amelia’s sanity as the top priority.

The drummer groaned loud, clearly annoyed. “This is getting impossible.” He muttered.

“I can’t leave if you want, G.” Y/n offered him, signalling with her hand the door behind her. 

“No, it’s not you, Y/n/n.” George let her know, scratching his eyes. He loved to have Amelia and Y/n around, he considered both of them part of the ‘the 1975 family’; although, he wanted to finish this song. They had a tight schedule for those few weeks before the big show. “Hi…” G saluted her, engulfing Y/n in a big hug. 

“He’s stressing you?” Y/n questioned George barely loud, even when she knew everyone around could hear. She liked to tease Matty with his bandmates, it was a way to bond with them. A harmless way.

“Yes!” George protested.

Matty complained, joining the joke, “Oi!”

“He has his head else where…” George let her go, wiggling his eyebrows, “I’m going to take a piss.” G informed the room. 

Y/n moved to the side, letting George exit the room. Y/n’s attention fall in Amelia playing with Ross and Adam. The cutest sight her eyes witnessed that day. She felt another pair of eyes looking at her. Y/n blushed, returning Matty’s look of fondness. 

She allowed herself to lift her arm –without the guys noticing– to press quickly Matty’s hand; he returned the gesture. 

“Hi, baby.” Matty whispered, kissing her cheek. 

“Y/n, watch out…a bug is sucking your face!” Adam teased Matty. Knowing that Adam had his attention on them made the couple step a few feet apart. 

Matty went to continue the bickering, “You are…?” 

Y/n swiftly cut them, acknowledging the last member of the band she hadn’t had the chance to say hello to.  “Hi, Ross!” 

“Hello! Look who’s here, Ames!” The cute man lift Amelia on his lap, making her dance holding both of Ross’s hands. She cackled happy, which was contagious to everyone around. 

“Hi, baby.” Y/n went to hold Amelia.

“Mommy!” 

“Are you distracting all this fine boys?” Y/n dare to look around, at the same time George returned from his break. 

“Yes!” Amelia answered without fully understanding the question. The whole band joined into a group laugh. The little girl wiggled out of her embrace, returning to be close to Ross. 

Y/n’s sight fall on the computer, showing complicated patters. She felt guilty for distracting them and weighed the idea of bringing Amelia home. “I think we better get home…” She said out loud. 

“No!” Matty protested. “Stay a little bit…you promised!” He insisted, making puppy eyes. 

Adam supported the idea. “Yeah, stay, Y/n…we barely see you now days. Does this one…” He lifted his hand, pointing at Matty’s face. “...have you trapped in a big tower or what?”

“Piss off, Hann.” Matty shot back. 

Y/n chew her lower lip, anxiously. “Are you sure? I don’t want to delay you-”

“Believe me, Y/n. We need you here.” Ross said sweetly. It was probably the biggest lie, because she wasn’t going to help with any of the production, but he was too nice to say the contrary. 

“See?” Matty said to her. 

“Come on, I’ll tell you all the surprises for the show…” Adam offered. 

That piqued her interest. Matty hadn’t told her anything. “Will you?”

“Course not!” The frontman protested against. 

Adam smiled. “Off course…yes, only for you, Y/n!” He let her know, only to mess with Matty. 

“You’re going to spoil it for her…” Matty continued with his objection.

Y/n looked at Matty, sternly. “I mean- You haven’t invited me…” Y/n folded her arms.

“I did!” Matty exclaimed, not overly convinced. 

He remembered talking about the show and all the hard work for it. Maybe he took for granted that she was going to be there. Matty feared the opposite, most of the surprises and new bits were thinking about Y/n’s likings. 

“You did not, Healy!” Y/n stated.

“I think I did…but, anyway- Will you come to show, Y/n?”

Y/n stayed in silence for an instance, playing with his patience. “I have to see if I can manage to squeeze it on my agenda-” She finally said, winking at Adam. 

“Y/n…” Matty warned her. 

“Since you notified me on such a short notice…. I’ll think about it!” Y/n explained as if it was the reasonable response. 

“I don’t like you.” Matty told her, returning to sit beside George. Giving her his back, which made Y/n laugh. Amelia did the same when she got angry.

“I really like her…” George spoke, still on his designated place in front of the big screen.

“Same!” Ross and Adam shout from the couch in unison. 

“Oh my god!” Matty breathed out, Y/n laugh softly, massaging his shoulders sweetly. 

*******************************************************************************

((Kitchen area))

“Fancy seeing you here…” Matty pestered Y/n, coming from behind her, rounding her form with his arms.

Y/n took a break from the madness of the studio after hours of hearing them bicker about the song. She excused herself, even though no one heard her. Matty noticed, instantly screaming he needed a bathroom break. He followed her like a lost puppy. 

Since the new situation between them started, he grew enormously attached to her. He wanted to be on her presence almost every time. Matty was still scared she would come asking to be friends again. He tried to keep the thought buried.

“Matty, someone might see us.” Y/n protested, leaving the glass of water on the counter. 

Matty didn’t care at the moment. He selfishly wanted her. “Mhm.” He breathed in her perfume, hiding his face on the back of her neck. 

Y/n caressed his hands, trying to sound collected. “I’m serious.”

“I just need a kiss…” He sweetly asked for it, she chuckled. Sometimes he unarmed her with simple words or requests.

She turned around on his embrace, feeling at ease with him. Y/n let her hands go to his head. It was addictive to run his hands through the mope of curls he had on the top of it. So alike as Amelia’s, still different.

Matty moaned way too loud for being still at the studio.

“Shh!” Y/n shut him up.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, bringing his face closer to hers.

Brushing their lips together, feeling a strange force bringing her into his body, Y/n whispered, “We shouldn’t-”

“We definitely should.” Matty stated, pecking her lips shortly. “Couldn’t wait till we get home… I need you.” He said, biting her lower lip softly tugging it from its place. It was Y/n’s turn to moan.

Y/n didn’t wait anymore, bringing him closer by his head, kissing Matty. Her body pulsing, screaming for him to do more, to touch her more, where she needed him. “Matty-” She said on his lips. 

“Tell me, baby.” He replied, sneaking his hands under her clothes.

“Please-” She groaned when his hands stopped under her bra.

Matty smiled, full of himself, enjoying having an effect on her. “What do you need, Y/n?”

“Touch me.” She begged. 

Matty cheekily uttered, “I am touching you.”

“No-”

“No?”

“Under…”

“So needy and perfect…” Matty went to suck on her beck, while his hands found the fullness of his breasts. 

“Yeah, yeah!”

Matty’s hands grew impatient. He wanted to feel her completely. With the idea imprinted on his head, one of his hands started the path towards her jeans. He unbuttoned them without a protest from Y/n, the opposite in fact. 

When his hand come in contact with her clothed cunt, he could feel the material all wet and ruined by her arousal. “You’re so wet, baby…who got you this worked up?” Matty asked, kissing her cheek. Y/n couldn’t answer, too lost. “Who, Y/n?” He insisted, he needed to hear her say it. 

“You, you…Matty, please-” 

He continued, tracing the clothed path of her panties. Pressing on her clit not enough for Y/n’s liking, she needed more. 

“Do you like watching me work?” He teased her. Matty caught Y/n’s sight focused on his fingers when George asked him to show what he was pointing out on his guitar. 

“Aha-”

“Please tell me more, baby.” Matty supplicated now.

“Matty!” She screamed on his shoulder, feeling her insides burn. “The way you were touching that- damn…red guitar-” Y/n admitted for him. 

“So naughty, with the rest of the band here-” He made sounds with his mouth, showing some sort of disappointment he wasn’t feeling. Matty felt incredible without knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her. All the time.

“I know…please, please, Matty.” Y/n was getting closer with only him touching her clit. 

Matty was painfully hard inside his trousers, but he wanted Y/n to come before thinking about him.“You make the prettiest sounds, baby.” Matty admitted. 

“Matty, where the fuck are you?” George started to shout from the other side of the closed kitchen door. 

“Agh!” Matty groaned, taking his hand off Y/n’s body. “He’s the biggest cock block.” He spat. 

“It’s okay. I should go…” Y/n said, trying to make herself presentable again.

Matty didn’t let her go. “It’s not” He pecked her neck.  “I want you here.”

“I’ll be waiting at home…” 

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Matthew!” Now George and Adam started to scream from somewhere around the studio, close, way too close to the kitchen. 

“I swear…they’re worse than Denise.” Matty rearranged her trousers to hide his hard on. 

“Come on.” Y/n tried to push him off. 

Matty wasn’t having it. At least, he needed a few more kiss before having to face more hours without her presence. 

“Kiss me.” He deadpanned said. 

“Last one.” Y/n declared, going for it. 

After a few more smooches, they brook apart reluctantly, even though they had to part ways because the steps coming from outside were getting closer and closer.

The door flown opened, showing an agitated George. “Here yo- Oh!” He stopped his reprimand for Matty when he saw Y/n standing there too.

“I’m going to get Amelia.” Y/n said, leaving after touching Matty’s arm and sending George’s way a shy smile.

George kept his silence, looking at Matty blush visibly. G was ready to take the piss of Matty. 

“Oh?!” He inquired Matt, still holding the handle of the door, pointing the way from Y/n left and his best friend simultaneously. 

“Hold it!” Matty stopped him, passing by, exciting the room.

George followed him. “Okay!” He lifted his arms as a surrender.

“Don’t want to hear a-” Matty warned G.

“Fine.” 

They continued the walking back to the studio. Matty felt incredible uncomfortable, meanwhile George was having the most fun of the situation, even when he didn’t know anything about it. He laughed during the entire short walk back.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Home sweet home.

Matty shut the door closed after his arrival. The house was in complete silence. He tried not to make a single sound, scared to wake Amelia or Y/n. He hopped the mother of her child was waiting for him, although it was unbelievable late, so he would understand. 

The lead singer climbed the stairs towards his room. At the top of the steps, his sight fell inevitable on Y/n’s room door. It was closed and there wasn’t light coming from underneath. His heart sank down into his stomach. 

Since the night Y/n spend on his room she hadn’t returned to her own for none a single night. She spent it with him, inside his bed. And the fact that her room door was shut was strange because since no one sleep there, she left it open. There was no reason to close it, she chose to leave it opened. 

Matty couldn’t build the strength to open it just to check. ‘Was she mad with me about something? Did I do something to upset Y/n?’, Matty couldn’t recall anything. 

Defeated, with the idea of her not wanting to sleep intertwined with him, he made his way to his room. Stopping in the middle to kiss Amelia goodnight. 

Matty opened the door of his room, not paying attention around him. It wasn’t until he clicked the light from his bedside table on that he noticed Y/n’s form under his comforter. 

He sighted relived, at the same moment, Y/n turned around to look at him. “Hello.” He whispered. 

She wasn’t happy with the disturbance. Y/n turned around, mumbling, “Hi.”

Matty got rid of his clothes, just leaving his boxers on. He swiftly got into bed, pressing his front on Y/n’s back, spooning her. 

“Thought you went back to your room…” He communicated to her, rounding Y/n’s body tight, as if he was scared she was going to disappear. 

“Feeling needy, Healy?”

“Yes, got scared for a hot second…”

“I’m here, babe.” She tried to calm him down, drawing circles on his wrist resting on top of her belly.

“Which makes me incredibly happy.”

“Soppy.” She teased him.

“Only for you, baby.” Matty let his nose moved behind her ear, showing his affection. 

“Lucky me.” Y/n stated with her sleepy voice.

“Mhm.” 

Y/n let her hand reach back, towards his curls. “You need to sleep.” She caressed them as best as she can while in that position. 

“Are you staying right?” Matty scared asked, kissing her lifted arm.

“Yes, Matty. I’m not going anywhere.” Y/n comforted him, getting annoyed.

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Come on, big baby.” Y/n turned around, letting him cuddle with his head on her chest.

Matty tried to protest against her accusations. “I’m not-”

“Whatever.”

Matty pushed his cheek into the soft pillow her boobs were for his head. He felt how his body relaxed again.

“Y/n…?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you…you and Amelia…are you coming to the first show, right?”

“If you want us there, we will, Matty.” Y/n said with the last bit of strength she had. 

“I want you there.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Just sleep, Healy.” Y/n ended the conversation as sleep took over her.

Matty stayed awake for a few more minutes, enjoying holding Y/n for the time being. He felt a wave of emotions hitting him hard. Matty almost wanted to cry because of it. He held it back, instead whispering above her heart, “I love you.” 

Scared, after saying it, he waited for Y/n to wake up and storm out. She didn’t move a muscle, her breath even from sleep. Matty breathed deeply. 

One day he would be able to tell her; he fell asleep repeating it like a mantra. 

[motzgurke]

Sketch

Carefull to not wake your sleeping husband you entangled yourself from the sheets and snatched his shirt that had thoughtlessly been thrown onto the ground last night before you had enduldged to more sensual activities. Nowadays the both you had grown quiet tired. Hero work seemed to get more straining and even love making didn't happen as often as when your were freshly married. Touching like last night had become more rare but therefore it seemed to have gotten even more intense and sensual than during your younger days.

Maybe that was the reason you had the sudden urge to rummage through your drawers and retrieve the old sketchbook you had been using since your first year in UA. It was filled with sometimes more and sometimes less finished sketches of your beloved, each one representing a special occasion in your shared live.

As you gently flipped through the pages you relived the memories of your first meeting, the first shy smile and the first date. The pictures showed his younger days, cheeks round and big eyes nearly hidden by the curtain of his split hair. Shoto used to cover his face, or mostly his scar, with his long hair and your heart twitched sadly as you remembered how he would sometimes looked at the ground just to hide beneath his bangs. Fortunately it had never stopped him from reaching his dreams and the insecurity faded with his adavancing in the pro hero ranks.

Speaking of which the next series of sketches pictured his life as a pro-hero. He was strong and popular and so it took him only a couple of years before he reached the top ten. While you were happy within the rank of twenties Shoto had always aimed for the top. You bit your lip not to laugh as you saw the sketch of your husband, Izuku and Katsuki you had made during an interview that had taken place after Shoto had managed to kick Katsuki temporaly from the number two spot. The blond had been furious and was shouting promises (or threats) to pass him the next year. The Interviewer was quiet shocked to see the boys batnering on stage but you couldn't take your eyes off Shoto who was grinning at his friend with a teasing smirk. It was rare to see him so smug and you had hurried to scribble the image into your book before time could manipulate this special memory.

As you looked at the sketch now it was horrible compared to the others. The quick strokes uneven and wildly placed over the paper but at the same time it was your second favorite in the whole book.

Your favorite was and would always be the drawing you had made as you had returned from your first shift after the birth of your children. It was Shoto's turn to stay home with the twins. He had been nervous about this day weeks before and when you saw your apartment that day you understood why. The kitchen looked like a mess and the living room was filled with every blanket your home could offer. Shoto was laying down next to a nest and as you sneaked over you saw your babies sleeping cuddled together while your husband was snoring on the ground right next to them. Your heart melted at the sight and without taking you costume off you had fetched the book to draw the scenery. All of them must have been extremely tired because you could draw a few hours in peace before the first of them started to stirr. Immediately as Yukio started to move Shoto was wide awake. Hair entangled and clothes dishevelled he looked quiet hilarious as he cared for the little boy who calmed down as he was tugged into your husbands arms.

A nostalgic feeling washed over you while recalled the years. Now your baby boys were both grown men and had started building their own families. Sure, they still visited quite a lot but you couldn't help but miss the days they learned of the beauties of the world with curious little steps. Sniffling you wiped a stray tear from your eyes and continued to turn page after page. It was amazing how you had managed to picture Shoto's journey. Your drawings skills had improved enough to capture the different stages you both had lived through.

Longe gone were the soft round cheeks and brightly colored long hair. These days his jaw was sharper and features more defined, his hair shorter and a few grey strand were starting to take over the red and white. Defined muscles and more scars littered his skin, every single one telling stories of fights he had won, friends he found along the way and lives he had saved. They marked the good and the bad and all of them shaped the hero, shaped the man who you had dedicated your love to. Never once you had regretted saying yes the day he had asked you to spend the rest of your lives together and now the tear you had been holding back dropped on the book resting on your knees.

The lines on your paper traced a body that had changed so much over time and also not at all. You couldn't remember when his forehead started to wrinkle or when the brightness faded from his hair. You didn't care when his movements started to become slower and he sometimes took a second try hearing what you said to him. It didn't matter that age was starting to take his toll on him or how many pages you would able to fill before death would take him away. For you he would always be the most beautiful being in the world, the kindest hero to ever exist and the most loving husband in the world. Even a dream come true was not enough to describe what he meant to you, since a floating image in your sleep could never compare to the wonder that was Shoto Todoroki.

A sudden sniffle from you must have disturbed his sleep and you carefully set your sketchbook to the side. There would be enough time to fill the other pages. Your lives were far from over and you were sure there will be enough quiet moments to tell more of the story that was your shared life.

With a few short steps you were back in bed with him, throwing his shirt back into a corner before he was able to pull you into his arms. Skin on skin you laid in his embrace and watched him slowly wake. From here you could clearly see the wrinkles around his eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the sunlight flooding your bedroom. After a while his eyes found yours, the mismatched gaze studying your own aged features with the fondest look in them before his warm hand reached out to brush a grey strand from your cheek.

[oliviablancmom]

AN: Just and ideia that it's living in my head. Maybe I'll keep writing, maybe not. Just let me know.

Warnings: none, well, maybe Jos being Jos. Also this is childhood sweethearts to forbidden love to enemies to lovers kinda of thing. And also there's no title yet, give me some ideias. English it's not my first language.

1. Age twelve

After the incident between Max and Josh, the karts are realigned for a new start. Mom looked on apprehensively, while Dad assured Josh that he was fine and had no damage to the car, allowing him to start again. Unlike Max, who, for having caused the incident, was disqualified from that stage, it wasn't long before he appeared, huffing and stomping as he walked towards us in the stands. My mother holds her arms out to him in a hug, and he reluctantly returns it. I see my dad coming over too and patting Max on the shoulder.

"It wasn't fair, Uncle Clark. It wasn't fair at all," he says, angry.

"You guys did exactly the same thing, Max. It was obvious that one of the two was going to get hurt." Max huffs and sits down next to me, swinging his leg constantly.

"That's it; you boys are going all out and taking this too serious," my mother says, holding the youngest's head and leaving a kiss there. I roll my eyes. Max was extremely adored by my parents. Josh used to joke that he was "the favorite son," and they, with their good old-fashioned sense of parenting humor, replied that they loved all their kids the same.

The two turn their attention back to the race, and I to my drawings. I watch Max full of anxiety; he hates being in the stands when he could have been running. He runs his hands over his face, mumbles something I don't understand, and finally seems to realize I'm there.

"Jesus, Olivia. You've come to the race; it's almost like you haven't." - He pulls up on my ponytail as he leans against the bleacher seat.

"I already told you not to do that anymore." I stare at him, irritated. He rolls his eyes, a smile on the corner of his lips. That was the thing about Max—he loved to annoy me. Mom used to say that boys his age were "just like that", which I didn't understand since I was only one year younger and not as stupid as he was.

"Why do you keep coming to the races anyway? If You just keep making these stupid drawings. He pulls the sketchbook out of my hands and starts looking at it." To my surprise, he doesn't make any mocking comments about the drawings. The audience cheers for something, and Max hands me the sketch as he gets up to look at the screen.

"Come on, Josh," he says quietly, sitting back down and adjusting his hat on top of his head. - "Your brother is horrible. He pulls me out of the race to be overtaken in a ridiculous way."

"My brother isn't horrible;" I say annoyed.

"Oh, you wouldn't know, Olivia. You don't even watch the races," he accuses.

"Of course I do. I always watch the races for my brother"; I cross my arms. Max laughs and turns to face me.

"Really livie, when you decide to watch it, it's not for Josh that you do." I frown in confusion. "You know I'm better than him, and I know you know, because deep down, it's me you root for." I feel my heart race and my face turn red.

"Well, if you're so good, why are you here and not on the track?" I say this to annoy him, and I succeed because he gets serious and goes back to focusing on the race.

"The fact that you're talking to me and not rooting for your brother proves my point," he smirks. "And besides, what he did wasn't fair; it was a bit of luck for him". He shrugs.

When I think about replying, I see Jos Verstappen approaching furiously.

"Max! Let's go to the hotel," he says furiously.

"I want to see the race." Max's voice changes, and I see his face turning red again.

We can take him later, Jos. My mother approaches.

" Boy, I told you, 'Let's go to the hotel' it wasn't a question." His voice increases.

"But dad..."

I feel my heart squeeze. I never liked Max's father. Ever since we became family friends, Jos has always fueled competition between him and my brother in the worst possible ways. Max snorts and waves slightly at my parents, who don't like Jos' attitude at all.

" That's enough. You lost; you made a stupid move, and you lost. There's nothing to see if you're not on the track." Jos pulls Max by the arm, forcing him to his feet.

"Bye Max."

"Bye, Olivia."

_________________________________________

Just to be clear, that's all for fun. Let me know what you guys think and if you wanna know more about this two. Again english it's not my first language, and this is my first imagine ever so please be nice. 🥹

[arengnera]

The Flesh Dress

All of the fabric for this was reclaimed from curtains, scraps, tights, discarded tule from a local highschool prom that I snatched up like a horrible little vulture. The boning in the bodice was done with huge zip-ties but I’m not convinced getting real sewable boning wouldn’t have been worth it. The channels on the reinforcement were a bit of a bitch. The swords I also forged myself, but this ain’t about them. A lot of (mostly fake) blood, sweat and tears went into this one and I’m super pleased with the results. Huge shout out to @spoonbendersanonymous​ who was kind enough to lend me the fake blood, their anatomical text book, and had me sit down to watch Bride of Reanimator for inspiration.

Process photos and bonus photoshoot pictures below the cut!

Original sketches! A lot of me trying to figure out how to make boning look like bones while maintaining a classic shape. I said edwardian on the sketch but it honestly might be Victorian I'm really not sure. This was a combined art project for one of my classes, the idea was using old fashioned mourning traditions and clothes in a modern and campy way, to complain about how much capitalism erodes our time to mourn. At least that’s what I told the professor, It’s really about making a weird and off putting dress first and foremost.

Tape pattern and paper pattern! This was my first time doing this so don't take thus as any sort of guide.

It worked though, as shown by the world’s worst corset fitting - the pink thing on my arm was where I was planning on putting the upper sleeve, I was trying to see if my poof was good since my sleeves were a lot thinner and a lot longer than what would have been optimal for the amount of poof I wanted, I had to do some work around with the fabric I had

Now I’m just bragging about getting eyelets to look clean and good for once in my life. If I was going to do anything different about this though, I would ad more eases in the back, because I need to contort horribly to get out of the bodice, I fit it too well

This bad boy was really the crux of the whole project. The entire thing was a pun so I could applique an anatomically accurate heart on a sheer sleeve.

This was was it’s intermediary stage, where I was suddenly very much out of time for the first deadline and had to put off adding all of the gore I wanted to, so the simple applique heart had to do. The skirt itself was way less poofy than I would have liked, and didn’t quite give the silhouette I wanted. I ended up going with the train because the under skirt isn’t actually connected in the back. Thus is the nature of working with weird panels of curtains you’ve already cut into for a few other projects. God bless the thrift store curtain section.

The guts were made by sewing together sheer tights, and filling them with polyfill. Here they are, before they were stippled with liquid flesh colored latex and soaked in fabric paint - and after where you can see all that extra TEXTURE

I was able to use it for another project though, and I was very happy with the beading work here, although I did end up losing my biggest strand at some point.

Here’s my makeup test! I played around with doing some blood red lips but decided the blueish corpse look was better. Fun fact! I drove home wearing a sweatshirt that says “I heart corpse desecration” on it through the snow storm, and pulled over to offer some guy a hand with his car, forgetting I still looked like this. He turned me down.

The face of someone who can definitely be trusted for road side assistance. - Also I was posing as the two of swords tarot illustration for the final gallery exhibit.

[bonnie-barstow-of-flag]

@avictimofthejazz

While not the most serious injury he has ever received, that prize going to being shot in the head on two different occasions and living to tell the story, breaking his arm is somehow the most annoying injury Michael has ever received. For a man who likes to do everything on his terms, having his dominant arm in a sling is really cramping his style. Now even getting dressed is a chore, and Devon has confined him to the Foundation grounds for the next two weeks. Once that stint in purgatory passes, the doctors will re-evaluate Michael’s injuries and decide if he is fit to return to light duty. Devon had breezily assured him that it would be fine, and he should not complain so much. After all, was Michael not the one always trying to go on vacation? Michael quickly retorted that sitting around with a broken arm was hardly a real vacation. A vacation was when he got to go off and do fun things… not wander around the Foundation for two weeks, and get roped into putting papers in filing cabinets. The other downside of his situation is that basic daily acts, like tying his shoes, have become almost impossible. He is not sure how Bonnie got assigned the role of nurse’s aide (not that he is complaining, of course), but his best idea is either that the mechanic lost a bet, or Devon ordered her to do it since Michael occasionally listened to her… at least more-so then April or some of the other people at the Foundation. While he milked Bonnie’s attention for the first few days, by now he has transitioned into the ‘bored’ stage of recovery, and is itching to hit the road again. He also realizes he really needs to start looking more presentable… otherwise an overly jumpy guard might mistake him for Garthe Knight one evening, and start a security event. While being mistaken for an intruder might give him something new to do, Michael also does not want to be shot by someone assuming he is that creep Garthe. Therefore, getting a proper shave is becoming imperative… and Bonnie is the best woman for the job, despite what she seems to think.

“Come on Bonnie,” He huffs, “Do you really think I’m going to ask Devon to help me? That’d just be embarrassing… and I wouldn’t trust RC3 around my throat with a razor. Now I don’t think he’d kill me, but he does tend to get distracted. The last thing I need are more injuries pairing with this arm of mine!” Plopping himself down on the counter, he studies her as he absently rubs at his sling. “It’s not really that different from any other kind of shaving… and I have dated enough women to know you all have razors on hand too. Just, you know, don’t shave off my eyebrows or something weird.”

The delicate lower-curve of her lower-lip is drawn sheepishly betwixt the brunette's teeth at his goading. Usually poised hands suddenly seem to have adopted the faintest hints of quavering as she eyes his face and then the razor encompassed by her fingers.

Barstow swallows, fearfully. A pang of anxiety echoes in the chamber of her chest when his ENTREATING azures manage to find her more skittish eyes. "Well, no, but--" Her words cut off in shelter of her next breath. The cybernetic tech supposed, that under the circumstances, she WAS his best option; even if Devon WOULD have more experience with this.

Yet, what if she slipped? What if she horribly disfigured him? Or nicked him with the blade? Knight's face is far too alluring to be etch-a-sketched up with bloodied scrapes. "That's what I'm afraid of," she softly confesses. "That I'll hurt you--" She murmurs in confession. Working on humans was far LESS forgiving than operating on the undercarriage of Kitt. There, a few dings and scratches would do relatively little harm. And her hands--- OH- Bonnie glances down at them again briefly, and feels a tinge of shame, for they're abhorrently calloused instead of smooth like Kitt's molecularly bonded shell.

"It's-- its not?" She muses in confusion when Michael insists that it's not entirely different from other forms of shaving. His next commentary causes her to erupt with laughter. "No one would mistake you for Garthe that way, would they?" Picturing him without eye-brows brings another fit of laughter rumbling through her chest, despite her best efforts given towards composure. "I'd have to draw some on with my schematics pen. Depending on my mood, you might end up with angry brows--"

She clears her throat in an effort to steady herself. "Alright. Here goes nothing. And Michael," she breathes out quite patiently, "do hold still." She cautiously instructs, placing the shaving cream down to turn on the spigot to warm water. Once the flow reaches desirable temperature, she works some of the cream into her hands. Using her fingers, she begins to lather up his prickly face. His skin is decidedly warm. So warm, it nearly brings the mechanic to sweat.

Bonnie can't remember the last time she gazed so intently upon his countenance. The close proximity alone is nearly INTOXICATING. "A-- are you still SURE that you want to TRUST me with this?" She asks, having rubbed the foam over his face and down the length of his throat. Her heart BATTERS the side of her rib-cages with a desperation almost UNFELT before as she peers into his all-too-lustrous eyes. The unbidden urge to KISS him stirs inside of her and she STRAINS to cave to the impulse. Knight requires her HELP, not her distraction; no matter how tempting such a distraction could be.

[lebenspurpur]

the L-word

|Michael|

the unspoken kind

The smell of the cooked stew on the oven made their stomach rumble. A little bit of oregano, some pepper and paprika were still missing. They hummed while they added the spices. Grabbing a wooden spoon, they stirred the food in the giant pot. They felt like a wizard brewing his potion and the thought made them giggle.

It was dark outside, the chirping of crickets the only sound at this time of the evening. They looked out of their window, hoping to spot a familiar white mask staring back at them but no one met their gaze.

Sighing they walked back to the oven.

A man stepped out of the shadows, stalking their form hunched over the kitchen counter. Knife tight in his hand, he trudged forwards for a better view. The eyes behind his mask lovingly grazed over their familiar expressions and body. The way their eyes glimmered and the corners of their lips curved up, it made him... happy? The familiarity of their movements reassured and calmed him in ways he couldn't explain.

The man sighed and shook his head. He turned and walked towards the main door. "I love you." he thought as he let himself in, "I fucking love you.".

|Vincent|

the quiet kind

They were fast asleep, their chest rose with every deep breath they took. Their hair was splattered all over the pillow. Their expression one made out of bliss.

Vincent laid next to them, head propped up on his arm. The air felt cold on his exposed face but he smiled. His eyes never left their face, admiring their beauty and studying their appearance. In his mind he sketched their body, trying so hard to express the peaceful state they were in right now.

Vincent extended a hand and pushed a loose strand of hair out of their face. His fingers rested on their cheek a bit longer, feeling their warmth. He couldn't help but let his hand wander. It traveled down to their neck, over their sternum and down to their abdomen. He tried to remember every single detail, every scar and every mole he met.

Retreating his hand he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to their forehead. They stirred in their sleep and smiled a little. Vincent let his head fall on the mattress next to their face and hid his bashful smile in their neck.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed their neck lovingly, "so much.".

|Bo|

the heated kind

Their eyebrows furrowed and he rolled his eyes at them. Their shouting made his ears hurt. He wanted it to stop.

So he shouted back, anger and annoyance clearly audible in his voice.

Tears suddenly dwelled in their eyes and they grew silent. Bo felt a shock of pain go through his heart at the sight and rushed forward. His arms quickly caught them and even though they scratched and hit him he didn't let go.

He let them cry in his chest and they slowly stopped trying to escape. Bo still tightened his grip and lovingly caressed their back and hip.

He attached his lips to their hair and closed his eyes, "I'm sorry darlin'. You know I love you. I'm so sorry.".

|Lester|

the proud kind

Bo flinched at the sound of their angry voice shouting at him. He tried to interfere and say something but they threw him a burning glance and he shut his mouth. Motioning with their hands, they argued with him until Bo let his head hang low and muttered a silent apology.

They smiled proudly and put their hands to their hips. Sending a Bo a last hateful look, they turned around and marched towards Lester.

Their steps were energetic and proud and they grinned upon seeing Lester grin. As soon as they reached him he opened his arms and enveloped them in a hug, pressing his forehead against theirs in the process.

"Wow." he said breathlessly and sent them a proud grin, "I love you.".

|Baby|

the flirty kind

She circled her hips and watched them shamelessly gaze at the movements of her hips. Giggling she gripped the pole and swung around, her pretty body moving in ways god never intended it to.

Their eyes never left Baby's body as she finished her performance with a split. They applauded jokingly and she giggled as she arose from the uncomfortable position.

Baby walked down the stage and into the empty room, her only visitor being them. They smiled at her as she approached their seat.

Then they extended their arms and Baby gladly took the offer, sinking down on their lap. Her forehead rested on their shoulder and they wrapped their arms around her. She smiled mischievously and slowly kissed their neck. Leaving little bites here and there her lips slowly moved up to their mouth. Baby finally pressed a passionate kiss on their lips, biting their lip in the process.

"I love you." she then stated and winked at them, "I love you very much.".

|Otis|

the annoyed kind

Otis couldn't help but rest his forehead in his hands upon seeing them try to grab something from the upper shelf. While their darted out tongue and concentrated expression was adorable, he still felt amusement at their blindness. There was literally a stool right next to them yet here they were, on their tiptoes trying to reach the box of cereal with their finger tips.

They smiled upon seeing Otis' expression and giggled, "Oh no, seems like I can't reach my food. What a tragedy that there's no strong man around to help me.".

Otis now groaned but he stepped forwards and grabbed their hips. Lifting them up a few inches they snatched the cereal and he let them down again. Turning around, they pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek and chuckled. "Thank you strong man," they thanked him jokingly. "I love you." they then added and gave him a proper kiss.

The white haired man groaned again and rolled his eyes, "Whatever”, he grumbled the last part quietly, “I love you too."

|Billy Loomis|

the surprised kind

Stu groaned at Billy's agitated rumbling about something. He always ended up like this. As soon as he found something to talk about he didn't stop, especially when the topic was Horror-movies.

Stu grimaced at them and stood up. After quickly saying goodbye Billy immediately started rambling again. They couldn't help but chuckle at his excited expression.

Billy looked up at the sound and stopped mid-sentence. They were actually listening to him. Oh wow.

He was used to people ignoring his words when he got excited about something. That usually led to him shutting up about his personal interests but they were actually listening to him.

He chuckled in surprise and leaned forward to kiss them. They kissed back, surprised at the sudden passionate action.

Billy leaned back a few inches and laughed again, astonishment audible in his voice.  His forehead rested against theirs and he smiled, "I fucking love you.".

|Stu Macher|

the loving kind

They laid on on the grass, fingers intertwined and eyes gazing up at the stars in the sky. It was early in the morning or very late in the evening, it depends on how you want to see the situation.

After a while Stu's head turned and he looked at their side profile. They smiled and tried to ignore his gaze wandering over their features.

A few seconds later their head turned as well and their eyes met his. They grinned, "Why are you staring at me, you're supposed to look at the stars.".

Stu just smiled back and extended his hand to cup their cheek.

"I love you." he whispered quietly and they turned around, giggling like a lovesick teenager.

|Brahms|

the needy kind

"Y/N..." the brunette whined, their name drawn out to annoy them. Brahms didn't get an answer.

He crossed his arms and pouted, "Y/N... pretty pleaseee..." he mewled again and they sighed.

Brahms noticed that they were slowly breaking and smirked. "Y/N.." he tried one last time, this time seductively.

They stopped what they were doing and slammed their hands down. "What Brahms?" they said, reserved anger visible and audible.

"Don't you think I should get some attention? I think I deserve some. Y/N I love you and you love me and lovers usually give each other attention. Pretty please Y/N." Brahms begged now, his eyes pleadingly focused on their face.

They sighed and dropped the rug they've been cleaning with. Brahms squealed as they walked over to him and opened his arms. A smug grin was visible on his face as their body hit his in a hug.

|Josef|

the outraged kind

Their sigh sounded annoyed and Josef gulped.

"Josef we've talked about this." they said while massaging their temples.

"I know, I know but look at it. Isn't it pretty?" he wrapped an arm around their shoulders, "I made it for you.". The smile he send them after the sentence was proud and loving.

"But why Josef? Why?" they said, resignation in their voice.

Josef let go of their shoulder and sent them an outraged look.

"Why?" he repeated and scoffed, "Because I love you?". Outraged he turned around and pouted.

They laughed at his temper tantrum and hugged him from behind. Their head rested on his back, "I love you too, you man-child.".

|Thomas|

the shy kind

It was warm but not too hot, a nice change. Summer in Texas was always horrible but the evenings were okay. Cold wind caressed their faces and the scent of cigarettes hit their nose.

Thomas was sitting next to them on the porch, eyes closed and mask off. He looked so calm, so relaxed. It made their heart swell.

They slowly snuck over to him, a playful smile painting their features. Thomas opened his eyes as they sat on his laps and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Turning red, he wrapped his arms around them and placed his chin on their shoulder.

They smiled and placed their fingers on his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles.

Thomas hummed in appreciation. He whispered a quiet "I love you." against their skin and they laughed quietly.

Pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, they chuckled quietly "I love you too, big boy.".

[mell-bell]

Running from the Past - Part I

Luke Patterson x Reader

Words: 1982

Series Summary: You and Luke became close friends months before he played the Orpheum with Sunset Curve....will he meet you again?

Chapter: 1/?

Part I / Part II  / Part III

TW: Mentions of abuse

Author’s notes: Ngl Julie and the Phantoms is the cutest show ever and I just want all the boys to be happy okay - next part will be post-hotdogs aka time jump

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had met your fair share of bands. Rock stars. Up-and-coming singers. Women who claimed they would make it big. Boys who wanted to be the next big boy band.

You helped your uncle manage the bands that played in his night club. And tonight, the club had booked a new up-and-coming band that had been making the rounds around town. But the lead singer was nowhere to be found. Your uncle sent you to hunt him down, which was why you were running around backstage breaking through door after door trying to find some wanna-be rock star teenager.

“Luke!” You yelled as you slammed yet another door open. A woman in the far back of the room glared at you as she wiped a makeup smear off a young lady’s face.

You mumbled your apologies, slowly pulling the door shut behind you, before taking off down the hall once again. As you rounded the corner, you ran headfirst into someone, both of you shrieking as you slammed to the ground in a jumble of limbs.

“Woah!” The shaggy hair boy in front of you exclaimed as he pulled away from you, stumbling ungracefully to his feet.

He offered you his hand, but you ignored him as you stood slowly.

You squinted your eyes as you looked him up and down. A smirk formed on his face as he watched you look him over. Just as he opened his mouth, probably to say something smart, you shoved a finger in his face and the smirk slipped off his face.

“Luke?”

The boy’s eyes widened and he nodded.

Without wasting another second, you grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him down the hall. The boy stumbled over his feet as you pulled him along behind you.

“Where are we going? Damn your grip is hella tight. Could you maybe let up?” He stopped as you threw him another glare, “....no? Okay.”

He managed to remain silent as you continued down the hall until you both passed by a grinning Alex, who had just stepped out of your uncle’s office. Luke reached out to him for help, but the blonde boy just held up his hands as you passed.

“Not cool, Alex!” Luke yelled. Alex’s laughter echoing behind you.

You finally made it through the door of your uncle’s office and shoved Luke right in front of your uncle’s desk.

“Oh, you found him! You can go help the stagehands set up now!”

You sighed, your head and feet throbbing from searching for rock star for the past two hours. Turning on your heel, you started out the door but skidded to a halt when Luke stepped right in front of you.  

“Wait, can I get your name?” He said, offering you a lopsided smile.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He said slowly, “That’s pretty- I...wait!” He stammered as you walked right around him and out the door.  

He stuck his head out the door of your uncle’s office, “I’ll see you around!”

“No, you won’t!” You yelled back.

“Yes, I will!”

You smiled as you rounded the corner. Maybe one day you would see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two months passed and you arrived at your uncle’s club earlier than normal. It was too early to set up the stage, so you wandered around aimlessly backstage. As you rounded the corner, you tripped over something, slamming hard to the ground.

“Crap sorry!” The man scrambled to his feet and helped you up, “Y/N?”

Your eyes widened as you met Luke’s green eyes, “Larry?”

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand, “Luke.”

“Nah, I like Larry better.” You shook his hand quickly before taking a step back and running a hand through your hair nervously, “You playing here again?”

The boy nodded, a grin lighting up his whole face. He looked at you as if waiting for you to say something.

You stumbled over your words, “Um - well I should....” You pointed behind you and started to slowly back away.

“Wait! Keep me company until the rest of my band gets here?” He begged, pouting his lip out.

A smile pulled at the corner of your mouth, and with the roll of your eyes you motioned for him to sit back on the ground. He did. You plopped down next to him, settling yourself up against the wall.

“So you work here?”

You shook your head, “I help my uncle, I don’t really like staying at home, so he allows me to help out around here.”

Luke’s eyes grew darker as he nodded knowingly.  

You both continued to talk and before long you were laughing as he stood in front of you, guitar in hand, trying to write a song that rhymed with your name.

“It’s not going to work.” You chuckled.

“It will. It will. Hold on I’ll get it.” He strummed the guitar again, his mouth wide open, but no words came out, “Okay, maybe not.”

“Y/N!” A voice echoed down the hall, “Your uncle needs you.”

Sighing, you stood up, brushing off your jeans. You hesitated for a second, turning to face Luke, “I’ll see you around?”

Luke smiled as you walked away and just before you rounded the corner he called out, “Hey if you ever need a place to stay that’s not here, we have a pretty comfortable couch in our studio.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month passed and you saw Luke more than you thought you would.

You were friendly, but you tried to keep your distance. There was a reason you didn’t have many friends. And you didn’t want to drag Luke into your family drama.

When you heard footsteps around the corner, you curled in on yourself hoping whoever it was would ignore you. Your pencil continued to scratch lightly over the paper as you continued to sketch.

When the footsteps sounded closer, your shoulders stiffened as you saw Luke step up beside you.

You shot to your feet and darted away. But he followed after you, his puppy dog eyes wide as he tried to get your attention. When he lightly grabbed your arm, you turned your eyes flashing at him.

He took a step back.

You sighed, “Sorry.”

“No,” He stepped back a little more, “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall, “It’s just...”

“You don’t have to tell me.” His voice was soft.

You sank to the ground, burying your face in your hands as you took deep breath after deep breath. A few seconds later you felt him settle beside you.

Luke began to speak, probably to apologize when you abruptly look up straight into his eyes, “I don’t have the best home life I mentioned before. It’s gotten worse and I don’t....”

He grimaced as your once bright eyes began to darken as bad memories were pulled to the surface. Your eyes glazed over as you turned to stare at the wall opposite you.

Luke was quiet for a few minutes before moving closer to you. He gently took the sketch pad that you held tightly to your chest.  

He began to speak, softly and slowly about how he ran away from home because he and his mom had a horrible fight. And he wanted to go back because he missed her and didn’t want to disappoint her, but he needed to prove to her that music was his thing. As he continued speaking, you began to relax in his presence. Everything he spoke of was in a way similar to what you were going through.

As the weeks passed, you both grew closer and you began to trust him more and more, telling him more about yourself and your family. He was easy to talk to and you felt safe telling him your secrets because he had secrets of his own. He listened without judgment and offered support without forcing it on you.

You didn’t know how different everything would be after this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked up to the garage hesitantly. Alex’s parents had explained where the studio was in the back of the house, and that you should just follow the sound of the music.

You gripped the strap of your bag tighter and raised your hand to knock on the door. But you froze. Sighing you turned. But before you could walk away, the door creaked open behind you.

“Y/N?”

You froze and turned around slowly, refusing to meet the boy’s eyes.

Luke was looking at you confused, his eyes darting to the packed duffel bag on your shoulder, to your downcast face.

“I...um.” You swallowed hard, still looking at the ground. You took a hesitant step back.

But before you could run, Luke stepped up to you, his hand raising, gently lifting your chin. Your eyes darted to the side, so they didn’t meet his.

His own eyes darkened when he saw the bruise on your cheek but knew better than to breach the topic.

“Can I stay here for a few days?” You said faintly.

Luke’s eyes roved your face, and for a moment you thought he would refuse. But then he pulled the bag from your shoulder, slinging it over his own. His other arm lifted to wrap around your shoulder as he led you into the studio.

“Boys! We have a guest!”

Alex and Reggie looked up, both smiling widely when they saw you. They ran over, about to pull you into a group hug, when Luke raised his hand causing them to skid to a halt. They both froze at the sight of your bruised face.

You cringed, waiting for the bombardment of question. But instead, they led you over to the couch and Reggie began a long rant about the new Star Wars that was supposed to come out in a few years, until you were giggling on the couch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You snuggled into the couch, wearing one of Luke’s sweaters you had “confiscated” a few months ago. It was big on you and hung down below your knees. You had the sleeves rolled numerous times yet they were still long enough to fall over your hands.

“Y/N? I need opinions on what to wear for our Orpheum performance tomorrow night and- is that my sweater?”

You didn’t bother looking up as you continued sketching a new Sunset Curve Album cover, “That it is.”

When Luke didn’t say anything, you raised your head to look at him, your brows furrowing, “Are those my slippers?”

“Yes. Can I ask why you’re wearing it?” He said softly.

You tilted your head, confused at his statement, “What?”

“The sweater. My sweater. Why are you wearing it?”

You definitely blame your sleepy brain for your next response, “It makes me feel safe.”

After a beat of silence and a slight quirk of Luke’s mouth, you realized what you had said. Stumbling over your words you frantically spit out, “Nope, I didn’t say that. Ignore that.”

Luke’s smile took up his whole face. He looked you up and down before his eyes widened, “Wait.  Isn’t that the sweater I was looking for months ago?”

“Well…”

“Y/N!” Luke exclaimed, “I asked you for weeks what happened to it! I can’t believe you had it all this time. Have you taken anything else I’ve been looking for?!”

You scoffed, lightly blushing, “What no of course not why would I ever do that….?”

Lies. You always wore his clothes. His shirts to bed. His pants during cold days. His sweatshirts. You loved his shirts and sweaters the best. They smelled like him. They made you feel safe. You loved being able to cuddle up at night tucked in something that reminded you of him. You loved falling asleep surrounded by his scent. Especially if you were feeling particularly down or sad, his scent would wrap you in a cocoon of safety until you relaxed.

[kaito-is-baby]

The 6 stages of grief

Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader

Denial

I had an idea about Levi facing every stage of grief after losing Isabel and Farlan and he takes it out on the reader, one of the few survey corps soldiers that survives that expedition and Levi blames their death on her. She understands what he is going through and tries to help him get to acceptance. I will split this on 6 parts, one per each stage. This one is the second part .

Part 1 - Part 3

Denial

Heavy feets, heavy clothes soacked in blood, heavy eyes and heavy breathing. There was nothing about living that was not heavy and painful to Levi right now

He had lost his siblings on that expedition fighting for a cause they did not even believe in

Why? Why had he lost them?

His mind was empty, the only sounds he could hear were Isabel and Farlan's screams, their skin tearing apart by that titan hands and their bones being crushed between its teeth

Your voice tried to reach to him many times on the way back home but not even once he did pay attention to you

His eyes riveted on the wagon carrying the expedition's deads

His eyes were on what he could imagine were Farlan and Isabel bodies, or what that titan had left of them

His mind was so fixated on the corpses that he could not think, his brain was just silent, repeating the same scene all over again, his friends death and how he couldn't save them

He finally broke once he entered the common showers

On the underground showering with hundred of strangers would be quite intimidating

He remembered the very first time he and Farlan had to shower on the survey corps, they were vulnerable and uncomfortable, on their past life they would have been killed in that situation

He also remembered Isabel told him that you had managed to get the shower closed for 20 minutes just so she did not have to go through that feeling, he knew that the situation was for sure much worse for a girl and even more in Isabel case, she was alone, he and Farlan had each other at least

That little detail made him see you as someone quite likeable, you really helped and cared for Isabel, but it soon went away

As water tainted of red out of blood felt from Levi's body, his mind flew to every single memorie he had had with his now dead comrades, ignoring the fact that they were no longer there

He went to the dinner hall searching for his friends, his mind was not even trying to assimilate what had happened. As stupid as it sounds he did not realise that none of them were going to show up to the hall

You approached him, two different plates with food, you had prepared one for him too

"Here, I thought you would not want to think too much about what to eat or where, want to come to my squad table?" You said in the sweetest tone you could give him

He was not really an enjoyable company and you were not dying for him to eat with you but you understood how he felt, he was lonely now, if he had to think about where to sit he would have to process his siblings-like deaths and you knew he wasn't ready for that, no one was ever ready for that

But his mind was not with you right now, it wasn't on the dinner hall, it was in their old house, that horrible underground house where at least he had them

He did not answer you, heading towards his bedroom with an empty stomach

The moment his body touched the bed thoughts finally started to appear on his head

"Why? Why did I accept that mission. The underground was horrible but at least we were alive."

"Why? Why did I gave up and allowed them to go to that expedition, if I had been more stubborn they both would be alive"

"Why? Why did Erwin let us go with him knowing we were going to kill him, was he trying to get us killed by those monsters? Did he really wish for Isabel and Farlan's death?"

"Why? Why was I not able to save them?"

"Why did this happened? Maybe I deserved it, maybe every single bad thing I had done brought us there"

"But why was I the only one to survive? Isabel deserved life much more than I"

"It is my fault"

Every single one of those question ended up with "It is my fault"

The loud snorts of the idiots he had to share the room with and the knowledge that Farlan's bed was totally empty was not helping him

His mind growing meaner to him, blaming him more and more

Until a slight knock on the door woke him up from this nightmare

Not literally, he couldn't sleep, he had always had hard times sleeping and now? He knew he would never sleep again

With those very heavy feets and heavy eyes that did not abandon him since the loss of his friends he approached the door

And there you were, bothering him again, he was starting to hate you now, you had survived and Isabel and Farlan didn't, who gave you the rights to come and bother him every single time?

"I... thought you would like to have what Isabel left on our room"

His hate disappeared, his sadness disappeared, he could only think about how having Isabel things would bring her back to him

Both of you headed to the kitchen, you wouldn't bother anyone's sleep there

"I'm sorry if I woke you up, I couldn't sleep knowing Isabel was not on the other bed and I went to look at some of her things, I tought you would need it more than me" you were not lying... totally, you did all of that, you felt horrible after losing the girl and you could not sleep but you weren't sorry you woke him up, you knew how this worked he either couldn't sleep or was being haunted by nightmares

A slight grunt was the only answer Levi gave you

"I don't think she had wanted me to look through her things though so I didn't really touched anything, I think that's something she would have liked you to do" your voice barely reaching his ears as he found Isabel belongings

There were not many things, they did not have the money neither the time to buy unnecessary objects. Isabel did had a preferred shampoo she took with her to the survey corps, Levi remembered how he was the one who told her to buy something to clean herself apart from water, a small smile drawing on his lips as the memory crossed his mind

For him you were not there, neither was the kitchen, he was with Isabel trying to explain to her that some water won't make the dirt go away

"Levi, no one can afford the luxury of a clean hair here, don't be mean to the girl, just get her some shampoo"

They couldn't afford to lose their money in insignificant belongings and many of the underground would find shampoo as one of those but not Levi, he needed Isabel to be clean if she was going to live with them

He would give anything to be back there, to have them at his side again

But instead you were the one by his side today

And your voice brough him him back to his cruel and empty reality

"She told me that story about the bird you set free" your hands were holding a small piece of paper with a drawing of that little animal who made Farlan and him meet Isabel "I think I've never known someone who would risk their lives for a bird like she did"

"I did not know Isabel could draw like that"

"I... Isabel saw me sketching some of the new cadets training and once she told me the story about the bird we both thought it would be good to have something to remember that story"

Levi felt how his eyes darkened, he did not like how you were introducing yourself in his grief, you were not one of them, you were not someone Isabel trusted and you were not his friend, he did not want you, or anyone, to fill the void they left. No one could ever replace them

"Maybe I could do one for Isabel and Farlan so you can carry them with you always"

"I don't need anything like that" Levi grunted "and I don't need a new friend either so stop following me around everywhere, there is nothing to pity me about"

With that, Levi left and for the following days his hate towards himself and his blame started landing on to you

Every time he saw your face and your sweet gestures to try and make him survive through the situation it remembered him that it was real

You, your existence, proved that they were gone

He could no longer deny it

And his denial soon became hate and anger towards who he blamed their deaths on

His anger exploded on you and started to avoid you or mistreat you sometimes but deep down he was the one he blamed the most

[mccall-me-maurice]

A new list of headcanons for the updated AU

Lotf headcanons

Jack:

Jack is Ralph’s academic rival and also head of the debate team. He spends the weekends at his father’s business, learning how to run the company. On the Saturday nights, he goes to an underground club in a fight ring thing. Nobody knows he does it, even though Ralph also spends time there.

Jack is dyslexic and has minor and manageable OCD, denying using extra help for his dyslexia in classes.

Comes from a wealthy family with 6 siblings, his father divorcing his mother and marrying his step-mother who he pushes away because he’s angsty and shes “not his real mother.”

Loves 80s music so much, he’s a nerd for it.

Sings in the shower/bathroom like into a hairbrush in front of the mirror in his little towel like a nerd but he’s actually really good at singing.

Wears his uniform extremely sharply and very crisp like why so much effort.

He has hearing loss due to an accident in his childhood and he’s fluent in ASL, but doesn’t wear his hearing aids almost ever.

Ralph:

Ralph is fluent in violin, he’s actually really good at playing, he was also an ocean lifeguard and saved Jack’s life when he got caught in a current.

He wears thick framed glasses to read and has really swoopy handwriting thats illegible because it’s like messy calligraphy.

Ralph dives as a hobby and is so good at it, like scary good at diving perfectly.

He has beauty marks on his face that he lets people trace sometimes, ink usually adorning his cheeks.

Very French, extremely French. Fluent in the language.

Draws on his hands with different coloured pens and the designs are always so intricate like a mandala colouring book.

Also draws on the cuffs of his jeans and the rubber edge of his sneakers all the time.

Blushes very easily, will go red in a matter of seconds flat either when he’s flustered, embarrassed or angry.

Brothers with Robert.

Simon:

Spends all of his out of school time in his mother’s flower shop and can recite the meaning of most flowers if you ask him. His fingers are all bandaged up because of how much he cuts himself with knives when he’s removing stems or clippers.

He has epilepsy and faints frequently.

Is a fan of older musicals, like Grease, Dirty Dancing and Hairspray and makes the choir watch them with him.

Rarely spends time indoors, Simon is usually out biking around the neighbourhood or walking around with his friends from school.

Will paint rocks and gift them to people when he thinks they’re upset. Also does face painting at the school carnivals, because he never minds being alone in a booth when there is nobody there.

Speaks softly and is usually ignored in favour of people with louder opinions, but he’s usually right.

Roger:

His biological family died in a house accident, the only thing surviving being him and his cat Nastya, who he loves more than anything. Because of his parents death, he taught himself the rest of the Russian language, which they were already teaching him along with English. However, his heritage is East Asian and Russian.

He pierced his lip by himself, and even though it turned out fine, he got his ears done professionally.

Not very affectionate and will push people away, distancing himself because he doesn’t like the idea of anyone being close to him and get under his skin.

Dyed the back part of his hair on a whim and just liked it enough to keep it as a style.

Spends nights at Simon’s place instead of his own, finding more comfort in Simon’s house.

Sam:

Comes from a German family, but knows German, Italian and English.

He hates birthdays because he doesn’t understand why they are so important.

Hates social interactions and actively avoids them with a passion. He gets extremely nervous and just leaves abruptly when he gets too overwhelmed.

Younger than Eric by 6 minutes, which he routinely gets teased for.

Into super cheesy romantic movies because he loves the idea of a happy ending despite not having one himself.

Messes with his hair when he’s anxious, so it’s constantly messy and mussed.

Mega nail biter when he’s nervous.

Cousins with Jack.

Maurice:

Heavily touch reliant and when his friends don’t show him physical affection, he assumes the worst and gets very upset.

Heavily Italian, like so fucking Italian. His family hardly speaks English and he learned most of his from school.

Very passionate about science despite most people thinking he’s an idiot. He has some of the highest marks in his class.

Messes with things when he’s talking or uses hand gestures. Like if there’s a pen, he’s clicking it because it helps him concentrate.

Maurice has like a billion flannels and hoodies he just cycles through and it looks like he doesn’t change but no, it’s just that he owns a gazillion grey hoodies

His older sister when to an Ivy League school, so he owns a lot of stuff from it that he wears like sweaters or ball caps.

Eric:

Very sarcastic. his entire sense of humour is him bathing in his own sarcasm. It’s actually pretty well timed and kind of funny how he’s able to deadpan his jokes.

Very easily picks up on languages. He’s fluent or close to fluent in German, English, Italian, French, Spanish, Japanese and partly fluent in Korean.

Really enjoys computer science and plans on doing it for a living. He stays up late at night to work and sleeps until like midday.

Doesn’t acknowledge other people’s emotions very often because he doesn’t realise when he’s gone too far, but still feels bad for others when they’re hurt.

Jack’s favourite cousin because they’re cynical buddies. Jack is overly protective of him even though Eric is perfectly capable.

Robert:

Brothers with Ralph and is very protective over him. Has absolutely slandered choir members before for hating on Ralph.

Shares a dad with Ralph but has a different mom, who he visits over the summer and sometimes during the holidays. That’s where he gets his Spanish roots from, which is a language he’s fluent in. He has 7 siblings on that side of his family.

Adores burnt popcorn and burnt anything. If he can burn it, he will.

Works as a mechanic in his free time and built the car he shares with Ralph.

Sci-Fi nerd, specifically Star Wars. He loves the movies and watches them like every day.

Extremely talented artist, Robert sketches anytime he has a pencil and paper.

Peter:

Was bullied in the past but doesn’t let the words bother him anymore. It mostly stopped around high school.

Works with his auntie in the sweet shop and brings his friends food for them to taste test.

Used to be a boy scout, so he can tie any knot you want him to, it’s really a gift.

Gets very cold very easily, especially his fingertips. He usually has a pair of gloves on him for when it gets really bad.

A Mathlete for most of his time in high school, obviously is extremely intelligent.

Double knots his shoelaces so they’re extra secure.

Bill:

Swedish, and really enjoys his own culture. He will spend HOURS rambling about it and how much he loves it.

Watches Avatar the Last Airbender and has the biggest crushes on Sokka and Zuko.

Also is a sucker for people who wear glasses, he really loves them.

Works at the library despite not liking books, he finds comfort in shelving them and the order they go in.

Puts little umbrellas in every single drink he has, it doesn’t matter what it is.

Writes notes to himself on sticky notes because his memory is horrible.

Sets at least 5 alarms because 1 will not wake him up by itself.

Harold:

Can speak limited Spanish due to his schooling.

Likes singing, but never really got into it like some choir members because he has stage fright.

Powerful speaker when he wants to be, but is usually too nervous to say anything.

Has no idea how to tie a tie, so he lets other people do it for him.

Sometimes take sarcastic comments seriously and ends up confused.

A really good actor and loves the performing arts.

Has extremely clear skin, he never gets any blemishes.

Wilfred:

Dyed his hair because his naturally brown hair reminds him too much of his father, who he hates.

Has 4 tattoos in total, the 4 card suits on his cheek, a half sleeve of roses, a bow and olive branch on his inner forearm, and the solar system on his outer forearm.

Very flirtatious to people he doesn’t really like but gets nervous around those he does.

Hold grudges really well.

Has shockingly neat handwriting.

Has a pretty horrible home life but he never talks about it to anyone because he doesn’t want to be perceived as weak or incapable.

Colours with only crayons.

Percival:

Cries easily, as he’s very emotionally driven and is typically teased for being a crybaby or told to “toughen up.”

Absolutely has the worst sleep schedule ever, he gets 3 hours and calls it a win.

Can’t sleep without a nightlight on in his room.

Enjoys writing things down in this notebook instead of on his phone because he likes the feeling of physically using pen and paper.

Sends letters to people all the time instead of messaging.

Good at sewing, he makes his own Halloween costume every year by himself.

Hates horror movies because he’s spooked easily.

Max:

Lived through a house fire when he was younger, so he has burn scars all over his arms.

Is afraid of cooking due to the fire and will go without eating if he has to touch the stove to make food.

Laid back most of the time, but can reach a snapping point in which the emotion is amplified. (like sadness or anger)

Loves swimming, it doesn’t matter where he does it, he just loves to swim.

Is very time sensitive and has to get places early or directly on time or else he gets anxious.

A very fast reader, typically long books take him 2-3 days to get through.

Johnny:

Worries a lot, he usually sees the worst in every single situation.

Is a trans male (Ftm) and was accepted by his entire family when he came out.

Owns a St. Bernard named Dolly who is the sweetest dog ever.

Spends a lot of time outdoors, he still plays as if he is a child.

Also enjoys the snow a lot because he’s fond of building snowmen with the kids on his street.

Has very sensitive skin and eczema, which he doesn’t like to talk about or show anyone because it makes him feel insecure.

Oddly good at playing guitar, he just picks up on chords with ease.

Walter:

Good at playing the drums and annoys his entire family with it.

Uses a skateboard as his main method of transportation around places.

On the basketball team, as his older brother taught him to play when they were both younger.

Hates roller skating despite being very good at most things on wheels. He can never find his balance.

Shockingly good at Math, especially statistics and calculus. He’s in all advanced math courses.

Has a very weird snake addiction and he desperately wants to buy one.

Henry:

Aromantic Asexual who is best friends with Harold and Wilfred.

Mainly makes snippy remarks because his humour falls into the sarcasm umbrella.

Adores comic books and superheroes, specifically Marvel ones because he’s a fan of Dare Devil.

Plays baseball in his free time but hasn’t joined a team, he just plays with the boys in his neighbourhood.

Addicted to the High School Musical movies.

Good at painting people’s nails and will do it for them if they ask.

Has really fluffy hair that he lets people touch and play with.

[don-quixotine]

Adrinette April Day 2: Rebellion

@adrinetteapril

Read on AO3  scene adapted from Chapter 9 of The Wall Between Us

Marinette let go of a long sigh as she reclined her back against the cool wood of the bench. She was at the park next to her house. It had been a long, long day at school and she was happy that it was finally behind her. Sketching for a few minutes, sitting under the cool shade of a tree always helped her shed the frustrations of the day; particularly one as taxing as this one. She made herself comfortable on the bench, took a deep breath, and gathered her creativity, focusing it at the tip of her pencil as she prepared to spill it into a design. As she did this, she lifted her sight to find the muse of the day, something that might be worth putting into paper. 

Something like... Adrien sneaking out of fencing practice?

The girl observed him from a baffled distance, witnessing the way he sported an uncharacteristic devious smirk on his face as he hurriedly descended down the steps of the school, two at a time. He looked to each side of the street, as if looking for spies, and darted in Marinette’s direction; to the park. 

The comical then happened: Stepping into the park, he shed his usual white overshirt and shoved it into his sports bag, produced an unassuming grey hoodie along with an insulting neon green cap, and quickly put them on. Merrily, he walked with a light spring towards the park kiosk to buy himself a soda and then proceeded to find a bench to sit on. 

Witnessing Adrien being so evidently pleased at breaking the rules was like watching a cat walk on its hindlegs: bizarre, to say the least. 

Marinette giggled at his confidence; at how sure he seemed that no one would be able to tell his identity under this poorly-thought disguise. She gathered the courage to go talk to him, just for a quick hello. Making the most of the fact he had not spotted her yet, she approached from behind him.

“FYI, you stick out like a sore thumb with that cap on,” she said, startling Adrien and prying a tiny gasp from him.

“Marinette!” he cried, tugging at his cap as if doing so might conceal his face better. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um... Designs,” she said lamely, lifting her sketchbook for Adrien to see. “But what are you doing here? Don’t you have fencing today?”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. “How do you--”

Marinette’s face became red with embarrassment, quickly interrupting him hoping she hadn’t exposed the things she knew about him. “Just a lucky guess, heh, heh.” 

“I’m sneaking out,” he said, scanning the surroundings. 

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because you never know. Natalie always catches me. Sometimes I feel like she tapped my phone or something.”

Marinette pressed her lips into a sympathetic smile, with her courage quickly returning to her to poke fun at him a little more, “Well, one thing is for sure. You’re making it easy for her with that neon green thing on you.” 

“It’s the only cap I could find in the morning! Is it really that bad?”

“Take it off. You call less attention without it,” Marinette said with a giggle. “You wouldn’t be able to hide your identity for the life of you.”

Adrien laughed. “I’ll have you know I have excellent camouflaging skills.”

“Right, right. And I’m Ladybug.” 

Adrien grinned at her. His delighted heart missed a beat or two as he relished in the possibility. 

“Anyway,” Marinette said, nervousness building up inside of her at the prospect of being alone with Adrien. “I should probably get going, good luck with the sneaking out.”

“Wait!” Adrien said, more disappointed than he wanted to sound. “I, um... Would you like to spend some time with me? We could find something to do. If you’re not busy, that is.” 

Marinette ignored the warm blush that crept on her cheeks. “What-- yes. Co fourse! I mean of course! I mean--heh. Yeah, what--what did you have in mind?” 

Adrien beamed at her, stood up, and then gave her a little devilish smirk. Marinette couldn’t help but be both a little worried and infinitely curious to know what sorts of trouble Adrien wanted to get into.

They headed back to the kiosk again, this time with the mission of filling Adrien’s backpack with as many snacks as they could fit. To the clerk’s satisfaction, that involved practically emptying the little hut out of the day’s stock. 

Loot packed up and horrible neon green caps out of the way, Adrien led Marinette to stage two of his plan. They headed a few blocks away from the park, to a residential area where Adrien started testing for unlocked front doors in the apartment buildings. 

“What are you doing?” Marinette asked, a bit bewildered. 

“Looking for an open door,” Adrien explained, simultaneously finding what he was searching for. “Ah! Success!” he exclaimed, pushing the door open. “After you prin--After you.”

Marinette gave him a suspicious look but did his bidding, following him inside and then onto the building’s stairs. 

“Adrien what are you doing?” Marinette asked again, more evidently worried. “We’re going to get in trouble!” 

“No, we’re not,” he assured her as he consistently climbed up the staircase. “Trust me.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before,” she said as she reached the very last floor, finding Adrien negotiating with the lock of the only door there. 

He pulled what looked like a fancy, metal credit card from his wallet, and used to click the lock open. Marinette snorted at the sight. 

“Why use a platinum credit card in the Champs Elysees when you can use it to perform a misdemeanor,” Marinette said. 

“My thoughts exactly,” Adrien said with a wink, pushing the door to the roof open and seizing an indistinct brick that lay there to prevent the door from shutting close. 

“You are an actual teenage vandal aren’t you,” Marinette said, absolutely bewildered at Adrien’s criminal tendencies. “So is this how you spend your free time? Breaking into people’s roofs?”

Adrien giggled as he found a spot to sit near the edge of the building. “In a way, I guess you could say that.” 

Marinette shook her head, still in shock as she joined Adrien. 

Worried at her silence, and that she might think less of him for this little escapade, Adrien hurried to look for her validation. “Are you mad? I swear I’ve only done it a couple of times and if it makes you really uncomfortable we can go down. I’m sorry.” 

Marinette turned to see Adrien’s worried, expectant face. “What? No, no. I’m not mad! It’s okay. It’s just... I never thought you had it in you to be this...”

“Bad?” he asked, sadness staining his tone.

“Rebellious,” she offered instead. “It’s a bit odd. At school, you’re always so, so... perfect.”

Adrien scrunched up his nose. “I know, I hate it,” he confessed, pulling his legs to his chest responding to a subconscious need to hide. 

Trying not to delve too much into the thought, he reached for the bag where the snacks were and emptied their little treasure between them. He gestured for Marinette to have the first pick, which she indulged by grabbing a bag of chips and a bottle of sparkling pink lemonade. 

Adrien grabbed a pack of fruit gummies and plain sparkling water as he spoke again. “Most of the stuff I do, I do it for my father.” He sighed and then continued quietly. “But it doesn’t matter how hard I work, it always feels like it’s not good enough for him and I’m tired of pretending to be someone I am not.”

Marinette’s heart wrung at Adrien’s confession. A small part of her did wonder what brought him to trust her like this so out of the blue, but this and any of her other reservations flew out the window at the sight of him being so evidently upset. It pained Marinette to see him like that.

“I’m so sorry, Adrien,” she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“I mean, I’m sorry that... that your father makes you feel that way.”

Adrien looked down, hugging his legs a little tighter. 

“But you can always be yourself around me,” she offered, with her voice trembling.

Adrien’s saddened pout slowly melted into a warm smile. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I like spending time with you, Marinette. You’re the greatest friend I could possibly have asked for.”

She tried not to pay too much attention to the utter disappointment that washed over her at the idea of Adrien seeing her as just a friend. Instead, she focused on the part that mattered: That he could have someone with whom he didn’t feel the need to pretend or put up an act. As Ladybug, she knew the burden all too well and didn’t wish it on anyone, certainly not on Adrien.

“Yep,” she said. “That’s what friends are for! Heh, heh.” 

“And um, you, too.”

“Me, too?”

“I mean, you don’t have to pretend around me...” he said, taken aback by the fact he was inexplicably blushing. “I notice that you always get, er... a little tongue-tied.”

“Oh!” Marinette piped, perking up with the dread that suddenly seized her. “That. Ha, ha. That’s nothing! I just... have... uh... you know me. I don’t-- I, why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Adrien said, shrugging. “It’s just, this is the first real conversation you and I have ever had. It’s... nice. I wish we could do it more often.” 

Marinette laughed nervously, beyond herself with mortification and wondering whether Adrien actually knew the kind of influence he had on her. Maybe he did and he just enjoyed messing with her.

“I just... get a little nervous, that’s all,” she said sheepishly.

“Why? Is it because I’m famous?” Adrien said, adopting a smug flair. One that helped Marinette overcome her embarrassment faster than she could say ‘Lucky Charm’. She didn’t know exactly why, but Adrien’s smug, rebellious side--the side she had been witness to for the good part of the last few hours, helped her feel more at ease, more willing to use her own sass on him.

She rolled her eyes and playfully jabbed him with her arm. “You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?  And here I was, thinking you were a perfectly polite, quiet, well-behaved boy. How wrong I was.”

“I’m all of those things!” Adrien protested as he shoved an indiscriminate handful of gummies into his mouth and leaned back. “But, you know,” he added with a small wink. “What other people don’t know, won’t kill them.”

“Show-off,” Marinette teased. 

“Only with the right audience,” Adrien said, defending himself.

Adrien was about to remark how Marinette was one to talk. How she convinced him of being the class sweetheart when in reality she was as sassy as they come. Unfortunately, he’d have to save that joke for later, because as they bantered, an Akuma rose in the distance. 

Duty called. 

[blossom-hwa]

LINAAAAA HAPPY 3 YEARS TO YOUR BLOG ILY 💕💕💕💕

could i request kevin + title: brush strokes to the soul

KATIE!! I LOVE YOU TOO! and slkdjghsg this title is SO CUTE <3 I hope you enjoy this!!

3-year anniversary drabble game: send me an NCT/WAYV/Stray Kids/The Boyz member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

~

Title: Brush Strokes to the Soul

Pairing: Kevin x fem!reader

Triggers: none

~

Kevin knew, when he asked to be the one to paint your royal portrait, that it was going to be a difficult task. Not because you’re difficult to paint - far from it, really, considering how many rough portraits littered his sketchbook from when the two of you were still in the courting stage - but because Kevin knows with absolute certainty that there’s no way, not even with the most skilled artist in the world, that a still, two dimensional painting could even begin to capture your beauty.

But he didn’t realize it would be as hard as this. 

Nothing feels right, not even the usual charcoal pencil in his hand as he begins the preliminary sketches. The canvas is too rough beneath his fingers as he shakily pencils in an outline of your figure. The outline itself looks horrible - why are his fingers trembling so much? This hasn’t ever happened before, not since he first started drawing - and, by the stars, how is he ever going to get this fixed into something grandiose, something royal, something to hang in the portrait gallery of every king and queen and prince and princess that has lived in these castle walls?

You’re not good enough, a tiny voice in his says. Not good enough to make something great, not even enough to make something passable for the gallery. How could he, just a prince attuned to the arts, even hope to capture a hint of your lovely grace, your sparkling eyes, your bright smile with his two shaking hands?

As he tries to continue the portrait, everything just gets worse. He feels bad discarding so many canvases, promises himself that he’ll repurpose them for other projects, but nothing is going right. He feels horrible telling you every time you come in to sit for him that the portrait isn’t done yet - you understand, of course, you always do, but he still feels bad. 

He lies awake one night, tossing and turning in bed, alternately staring at the walls or at the easel across the room. Even in the dark, he knows where every stroke of his brush has landed on the unfinished canvas - he’s stared at the portrait for so long that its image has been burned into his brain. Time and time again, he tries to burrow into his sheets and fall asleep, but dreams elude him. 

Then a light knock sounds at his door. Kevin bolts upright - he knows that knock. 

Sure enough, when he opens the door, there you are, dressed lightly in your nightgown. Wordlessly, you hold out a hand with a smile on your face. Kevin takes it without hesitation. 

You lead him into the gardens, grass cool beneath your feet. Everything looks slightly muted under the cover of night, but the moon and stars shine overhead, providing a source of pale light. 

“Why are we here?” Kevin asks when you come to a stop under the open sky. “I love you, Y/N, but why?”

“You seemed stressed recently.” The knowing glance in your eye tells Kevin you know exactly what’s causing him stress. “I thought it might be nice for you to sit under the stars for a bit and relax.”

A slow smile begins to spread across Kevin’s face as an idea begins to form in his mind. “That might be nice,” he agrees softly. “But how about instead of sitting...” He sweeps his body into an exaggerated bow, holding out one hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

The sound of your laugh is music to his ears. “If my lord will have me,” you say with mock coyness, placing your hand delicately in his. 

“Of course he will,” Kevin murmurs, placing his hands at your waist as your arms wrap around his shoulders. Slowly, he begins swaying in place, marveling at how the pale light of the moon illuminates your face. 

Then it hits him. 

Kevin knows how he’s going to paint your portrait now.

Something must register on his face because you look at him questioningly, but Kevin just smiles and shakes his head, still twirling you around under the blanket of night. After this midnight escapade, though, as he drops you off outside your room and kisses you goodnight, he doesn’t forget to whisper a soft “thank you” in your ear. 

“For what?” You cock your head slightly.

Kevin grins. “You’ll see.”

The portrait of you that now hangs in the royal gallery is different from the rest. Where everyone else is seated on rich thrones, dressed in opulent clothing covered in jewels, you stand under a night sky in a simple but elegant white dress that glows in the painted moonlight. 

When you first see the finished product, you stay silent for a moment. Kevin feels his heart stutter for a moment - do you like it? Do you hate it? What does this silence mean? But then you fly at him, pressing your lips to his in a warm, warm kiss, whispering a million “thank yous” into his ear. 

“It’s not good enough,” Kevin mumbles when you finally break away. “You’re still more beautiful than that, a thousand times more.”

A shy smile spreads across your face as you touch his cheek in reply. “I’m flattered, Kevin,” you laugh, “but even if you think so, I believe it’s as perfect as it can get. It’s good enough.”

He looks back at the portrait, pale moonlight dancing over your figure clothed in white. Yes, he thinks, smiling. Even though his brush strokes will never be enough to fully encapsulate your soul, he thinks he can find peace with this one. 

[toboldlywrite]

Paint me for the ask game please!

“Pleeeeease?”

It was impossible to say no to Mel’s pleading face, which was why Nikki avoided looking at her for as long as she could. It wasn’t too difficult, since Mel was sitting on Nikki’s bed while Nikki was at her desk, facing the other way. “I don’t know, Mel. I’m not good at drawing people.”

“You don’t know that,” Mel scoffed. “You haven’t done it in ages. Not since you started taking classes.”

“Exactly, I haven’t done it in a while. So it’s not going to be good.”

“Oh shut up.” It was Mel’s go-to response when Nikki started talking herself down. It just made her do it silently instead. “Just think of this as good practice.”

“But if it turns out horrible—“

“I’ll still love it,” Mel said confidently.

She had a point. In fact, the uglier it was, the more she probably would. She loved collecting “eccentric” fashion and art and showing it off as much as possible. Of course, what she called “eccentric,” most people called “hideous.”

“Come onnn Nikki!” She pleaded, leaning as far off the bed as she could to grab her arm. “Please? Please? It can be an early birthday present.”

“Your birthday was three months ago.”

“Ok, a late one then. Super early. Whichever.”

Nikki laughed, and made the mistake of looking at her friend. There it was. The Pleading Face of Doom. Once you saw the look in those big, brown eyes, you were doomed. She sighed. “Fine.”

“Yay!” Mel clapped her hands. “Thanks, Nik. You’re the best!”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She reached for her sketchpad, and Mel gasped.

“What, right now?”

“Why not? We finished the project already. Now sit still.”

Mel immediately started fidgeting. “Shouldn’t you… take a picture or something? That would be easier.”

“It’s too staged that way.” Nikki picked up her pencil, and spun her chair around to face Mel. She never liked drawing or painting from pictures. Even landscapes. There was something about the living, breathing world that inspired her like a frozen frame of it never could. “Just relax.”

Mel sighed, slumping her shoulders just a bit. But she kept fidgeting with her fingers. Nikki smiled to herself. She did want things natural. She placed her pencil lightly against the paper, and started sketching.

She tried not to think about it as drawing a person. Just drawing what was in front of her. She started with a rough sketch of the room around her, then moved on to Mel herself. Mel had stopped looking so fake-relaxed, now staring absently out the window at the yard Nikki’s grandma was so proud of. She tapped her fingers along to some silent tune, even swaying to it slightly.

Nikki and Mel had been friends since Nikki moved in just two houses down eleven years ago. Since then, they’d been practically inseparable. They’d seen each other grow up—as much as they had so far. Nikki thought she could describe what Mel looked like with her eyes closed. But now, looking closer, with an artist’s eye, she kept noticing things she hadn’t before. The face she always thought was round actually had a couple angles. There was a slight dimple on her chin that twitched a bit as she silently hummed. The arch of her eyebrows weren’t completely symmetrical; the left one was slightly flatter than the right. Nikki had always known her hair was dark brown rather than black, but she’d never noticed the honey-colored highlights that the sunlight splashed through the short-cropped strands. Her nose, the curve of her lips—had they always been that… cute?

The thought came unbidden into her head as she quickly sketched them, and she froze, pencil freezing over the paper. It was a platonic thought, she told herself. Nothing wrong with thinking your friend was cute, was there? It was normal. But now that she’d drawn Mel’s lips down on paper, she couldn’t stop thinking about them. How soft they looked. Just so she could replicate them, she told herself again. But when she glanced back up at her friend, she couldn’t help wondering how they’d feel…against her own.

Mel noticed her staring, and Nikki quickly looked back down, leaning her head close to the paper so Mel wouldn’t see the blush taking over her own very pale face. She moved her pencil back and forth to look busy, but kept it above the paper as her mind whirled. Where had those thoughts come from? She’d never had any feelings like that before. For anyone, actually. Had she?

Maybe she just hadn’t wanted to. Maybe she buried it so deep down it was hidden even from herself.

But not anymore. The dam was open, and the thoughts wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t even think about looking back up at Mel without her heart pounding like crazy. How had she never noticed before? That her best friend had the deepest brown eyes she could—and wanted to—get lost in? That she had a smile that lit up so brightly it could chase even her darkest nightmares away?

“Are you ok?” Mel asked. She’d stopped moving her pencil for too long. “Are you done?”

“I uh—“ Words. She had to remember how to use those. “For now, yeah. I’ll paint it later.” She quickly closed the sketchpad and put it down, still feeling the heat on her face. Hopefully it wasn’t too noticeable now.

“Oh. You’re not gonna let me see it?” She pouted, but this time Nikki wasn’t tempted to look at her at all. She was certain that if Mel took one look in her eyes, she’d know everything she was thinking.

“When it’s done,” she promised.

Mel looked like she was about to argue. But beside her on the bed, her phone vibrated. She picked it up, and sighed. “I gotta go. Dinner’s ready. And you know how my mom is about dinner time.”

“Yeah,” Nikki said with a slight smile. She managed to look at her friend just long enough she wouldn’t think something was wrong. But when Mel stood up, the light framed her from behind in such a way it looked like she was glowing. Like an angel.

“See you tomorrow,” Mel said in her usual, cheerful voice. “We’re gonna ace this project.” And then she was gone. Leaving Nikki alone in a cluttered room, with a cluttered mind. Full of the sudden and overwhelming knowledge that she had a giant crush on her best friend.

Oh no.

[slashiest-slasher]

For @slashthedice Frisky February

Day 10: Double Penetration

Brahms Heelshire x Male s/o x Malcolm (WHEEZES i finally did it. the truth is i had like 2k of this written but i’m a nightmare who only uses notepad to write so i copied over it)

"Malcolm, everything's under control. Can you just calm down?" It's a bald face lie if you've ever told one. No, nothing was really under control. And really, despite the murderous glint in Brahms' eyes, you were far more concerned about Malcolm bolting out the door and calling the police. And it's one bitch of a task.

Brahms possessively grabs at your trousers, the only thing you still have on really, with a body laying at your feet. Neck bent at an unnatural angle, and skin rapidly paling.

Malcolm, who is only in a t-shirt and hastily pulled back up pants, pulls at his hair, pacing in the game room, where only an hour earlier, and entire story was playing out. It's crazy how rapidly things could play out.

Malcolm had come over to deliver the groceries, as is usual, and Brahms had been acting like a right brat, you invited him to stay later for some drinks - maybe even stay the night if he's had too much too drink.

As much as you love Brahms, he's incredibly possessive and could stand for some competition, and Malcolm is probably the last person he'd try to kill, other than you. No Malcolm means no food. If he wants you, he's going to have to try more than demanding your attention.

And try he has. He tries and makes sweets that end up tasting horrible, but are endearing nevertheless. Sometimes he'll come to you with a bouquet of wild flowers he found in the forest, and honestly him leaving the house of his own volition is far greater of a present than the flowers. Or he'll make collages from magazines and books and various sketches and leaf presses that are honestly breathtaking.

Brahms will try and be more considerate of your feels, and when he would normally lash out at you, he'll restrain himself and bite his tongue instead.

But the night before Brahms was an absolute terror. Clinging to you all day, tugging you around to wherever he wants you, arguing with you against every turn, and throwing a tantrum when you told him no good night kiss since he was a bad boy today. A tantrum which included blindly throwing a lamp at the wall, realizing how terrified you were, and promptly feeling you up and trying for sex when he realized his mistake.

It seems like most of your punishments as of late have had some sort of sexual edge to them. But nothing other than threatening to leave him works, and you weren't about to constantly lord that over him.

The immediate solution was to bring Malcolm over, and have a nice snog with him on the couch right where Brahms would have a nice view of everything from one of his hidey holes. While you were planning for Malcolm to fuck you, he flipped the tables by pulling you on top of him and looking at you with eyes that undeniably said I want you.

So you worked down him, worshiping his body, rucking up his shirt to kiss every inch of skin and got rid of his trousers, and had only just pulled down his pants and swallowed him when there was a knocking at the front door. Odd, considering how late it was and how secluded the house is. But in a stupidly giddy rush, you jump up to get it, since teasing Malcolm didn't run risk of him having a fit.

Not a minute later, you walk back into the game room, a burly man wrapping his arm around your neck, and a gun pressed to the small of your back. He tells Malcolm, who's scrambling to pull his pants up, to go get all of the valuables in the house, or else you are getting shot.

Malcolm freezes, and that's when Brahms starts up, rattling the walls and making the house groan in a way you've never been able to figure out how he did. It catches the would be robber off guard enough to rush out of the wall and tackle him to the floor, snapping his neck before he can aim and fire off the gun.

Once everything has calmed down, Brahms' anger is pointed at Malcolm, having found nowhere to melt away. "He's mine," he hisses, jerking you away from Malcolm, who looks like he's about to have a heart attack.

"Are you bloody... What the hell?!"

And that leaves you where you are now, just barely restraining Brahms, and Malcolm about to dart from the house.

"Malcolm, this is Brahms. The real Brahms, who never died, and has been living in the walls the entire time," you tell him, as if you were explaining why the sky is blue. "We're... involved, and he's rather protective of me."

"Involved?" he lets out, exasperated. "You a-and Brahms? Then why? Why me? Christ you're dating a murderer..." He stops tugging on his hair and cards his fingers through it instead.

"Because Brahms is a brat," you stare at him pointedly. "And I'm not exclusively his."

"No you’re mine," he pulls you closer against his chest. "He's not allowed to be with you because I'm the only one allowed to love him."

Malcolm takes a good, long look at the two of you, silent for a few moments. His lips move as if he's about to say something, but he stops, trying to form the perfect sentence. All five stages of grief cross his face in the minute he tries to recollect himself. He finally resolves himself and wipes his hands down his face. "Why not both of us?"

"Because I own him," Brahms seethes.

"No Brahms, why don't you have both of us?"

And it's that which really gives Brahms a pause. He lets go of you, and tilts his head to the side as he walks up to Malcolm. Part of you wants to jump and stop him, but another makes you stand still. Brahms raises a hand, letting his finger tips run along Malcolm's cheek. "Why?"

Malcolm stands there, only slightly flinching away from Brahms' touch. "Because, well, he likes both of us, and don't you want him to be happy? Look at him, he's steadfast enough to stand there unshaken after you just killed someone, he'd never leave you. So make him, give him everything he wants. A-and you're obviously devoted, and passionate, and... Well I'll be frank, you're bloody hot."

Brahms is thrown for a loop again, frozen in place as he searches Malcolm's eyes for something. "You think- you think I'm attractive?" Of course that's what draws Brahms attention.

"Well yeah, you're tall, got some nice muscles, and all that body hair..." Malcolm whistles, miming over Brahms chest. "If you were down for us to tag team you, I definitely wouldn't say no."

The recovery and adaptability of Malcolm is truly a thing you can marvel at. Alongside his ass. What was that old saying about bravery and stupidity? At least it's better than Malcolm running off, so you take it with grace.

You come up from behind Brahms, stepping over the corpse on your way. You wrap your arms around his middle sliding your hands just barely into waistband. You struggle to rest your head on his shoulder to whisper in his ear. "How about it Brahmsy? I know how much you like beind stuffed with my cock, and that you can never get enough of it. I can see you when you try fingering yourself at night. You'll never feel as full is both Malcolm and I were inside you, at the same time."

You can hear how fast Brahms is breathing under his mask, and you bet his face is beet red. Your wandering hands don't help much with that either. He says something, first so quiet you can hardly hear him, and when asked to repeat, he raises his voice. "Yes please."

As you find you, Brahms does not like Malcolm preparing him, so instead Malcolm busies himself sucking you off while you stretch and prepare and increasingly frenzied Brahms with what is probably half a bottle of lube. You tuck your thumb into your hand, managing your entire hand inside of him. When Brahms looks down, eyes wide, he jerks his hip as if he were about to cum. But he clenches his eyes shut and shudders, holding everything back.

Another adventure for another day, you say to yourself.

Brahms is so strung out that he's extremely malleable, and allows you to position him wherever you want. He clings to your shoulder as you and Malcolm line up your position, both sitting up and facing each other and pressed together so your cocks were right next to each to each other.

Malcolm does the honor of using the other half of the bottle of lube to slick up both of your cocks with one of his nicely sized hands. His cock is only slightly longer than yours, but not much thicker.

Brahms, as impatient as he does, doesn't wait for you to say anything before sinking down on your cock, whining and shoving his masked face into your neck. He rides it for a few thrusts before Malcolm is nudging at his entrance. Brahms wasn't exactly tight, but you're not entirely sure how well this is going to go.

The entire process of getting Malcolm shoved in next to you, Brahms shakes and sweats profusely, digging his nails into your shoulders. He tries to keep himself quiet, likely biting on his bottom lip, but he lets out soft moans and hushed "ah!"'s. They way he wiggles his hips while Malcolm pushes inside, whether it's to get comfortable or for more friction you don't know, really tests your self control.

Once Malcolm gets inside, and fully pushes himself all the way inside so Brahms is seated on both of your cocks, he lets out a loud, long wail.

Neither of you want to move, relishing in how tight of a fit it is. You can't even begin to imagine how it must feel for Brahms. "You're such a good boy Brahmsy," you whisper in his ear. "You're taking both of us so well. Do you like how you're so full of the both of us?"

Brahms can't really say anything, but he nods.

You pry Brahms off of yourself and push him so he's reclining against Malcolm's chest, who takes him with open arms. Really it's only so you can get a better view of Brahms writhing when you start pumping in and out. And a show you do get from him.

When Malcolm jumps in and slowly starts figuring out out a pace between the two of you. In and out. Malcolm presses his lips to Brahms' shoulder, muffling his own noises. Brahms' back archs, as he's really unable to do anything against the tide of pleasure. He starts twitching you run your hands along his chest and tweak his nipples, pinching them harshly, then ducking down to lathe them with your tongue.

Your own orgasm catches you off guard. As Brahms got more and more wound up, and Malcolm further got lost in the sensation of Brahms, it seemingly came out of nowhere. You hunched over and let out a sharp gasp, spilling your seed deep inside Brahms. The feeling of Malcolm still thrusting is too much, so you slip out, fight of the haze of drowsiness, and focus entirely on Brahms.

You kneel between Brahms' and Malcolm's legs, and slip a few fingers in beside Malcolm fucking into the mess of lube and cum inside of Brahms, spilling it down onto the bedspread (which Brahms will, of course, clean).

"Please," Brahms gasps breathlessly, head thrown back and leaning on Malcolm's shoulder. "Please, please let me cum, I've been a good boy, I have," he begs.

"Shhh, you have been very good for me and Malcolm. Such a good boy. Just be a good boy a little while longer, until Malcolm cums.

Brahms sucks in a shuddering breath, as if he were trying to resolve himself, but luckily for him, Malcolm didn't take to long to cum, and Christ does Malcolm make the sweetest moan you've ever heard. He floods inside Brahms, his seed mixing with yours. It doesn't quite make Brahms finish, but you can he's close, so you drop down and take Brahms into your mouth without any mercy until his back bows and he's sobbing and Malcolm, who looks like he's about to drop off any second kisses his neck and plays with his nipples.

Brahms fully slumps back against Malcolm, who goes him and falls back against the bed. His dick slips from Brahms, and despite Brahms shuddering at all of the cum rushing out, Malcolm settles in spooning Brahms quite contently.

As you've had to learn countless times with Brahms, right now isn't the time for a deep clean, but rather a cursory one with wet wipes, and you crawl in bedside Brahms, carefully removing his mask. He makes a noise a protest, but that's quickly smothered with a kiss. "Give Malcolm a goodnight kiss Brahmsy," you murmur, tangling your legs together, and wrapping your arms around him, just bellow Malcolm's.

Brahms looks like he's about to snark something in return, but he huffs instead when you raise an eyebrow. He leans his head over his shoulder, so an already half-asleep Malcolm press a deep, sensual kiss to Brahms' lips that under any other circumstance would get you riled up.

Oh yes, this could work. This could work very well.

[sign-from-god-complex]

Summary: Roman hadn’t realised just how much his friends disliked his crush… or how much they disliked him.

Pairing: Roceit and one-sided royality.

Warnings: Unsympathetic Patton and Virgil, sympathetic Deceit, toxic friendships, brief unwanted flirting, implied fat-shaming. If you don’t want to read the fat-shaming, skip the paragraph starting with “Dee picked a cookie up off his lunch tray”, you won’t miss anything crucial.

A/N: I know this one is very outside the realm of what I’d normally write. I want it to be clear that I would never think the sides to be anything like what Patton and Virgil are like in this fic, I was simply in a Mood and this is what I felt like writing.

AO3 Link

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"He's so pretty I think I'm gonna faint."

Roman gazed across the cafeteria with verifiable hearts in his eyes, chin resting in his hand like a teenage girl in a romance novel. He let out a wistful sigh, watching Dee laugh at something Logan had said, delighting in the way his whole face scrunched up. He looked so happy.

Roman wondered what it would be like to be that happy.

Happy was easy in theory, sure. Roman was happy when he got a part in the musical, he was happy when he got a good grade or when he perfected his eyeliner just so. But… there was always some sort of… catch.

Roman was allowed to be happy about the musical but not too happy; his friends didn't get his love of the stage and they quickly grew bored of his excited rambling, pushing him to talk about the latest TV show or cute boys instead. He was allowed to be happy about good grades but not in front of the other students; only nerds got so excited about their grades, and Roman wasn’t allowed to be a nerd. He was allowed to be happy about his eyeliner but not in front of his family. Wouldn’t want to be too overtly queer, would he?

He was lucky to have what he had, he shouldn’t be wishing it away, but sometimes he just… longed to not have to worry about what people think so much.

Virgil rolled his eyes, letting out a huff. "Seriously, princey? You're still pining over that asshole? Move on already!"

Roman blinked, furrowing his brow. That was not the reaction he had been expecting. Sure, his friends had never really seen what he did in the other boy but they'd never been so callous about it before either. Usually, they replied to his lovesick rambling with noncommittal hums or vague agreements but this seemed frustrated, bubbling up and over like Virgil had been holding it back for a while. Roman wondered just how long.

"What?"

Patton sighed—patronising and exasperated—and Roman turned his confused look onto him.

"Look, Ro, we tried to be nice about it, but Dee's just so…" He screwed up his face in disgust. "Eugh. Him and that nerd do nothing but talk about sci-fi and their grades; they're so boring! Don't you think you could do better?"

Patton batted his eyelashes, painting on a smile that made Roman feel sick.

"Better?" he parroted and Patton simply hummed, sliding in closer and placing a hand on his thigh that had Roman jumping.

He stood up abruptly, staring down at Patton in disbelief. Where could this have possibly come from? Patton had never really shown any interest in him before! Sure, he'd been nice, but Patton was always nice; that sugar-sweet way of his became a bit overwhelming after a time, but Roman stuck through it. They were his friends after all, what was he supposed to do?

A quick glance at Virgil revealed no surprise, shock or distaste for Patton's actions, in fact, he seemed to be barely paying attention, scrolling through his phone with a bored look on his face. He had thought that Virgil would be the kind of person to jump to his rescue, but it appeared he thought wrong. He wondered how well he really knew the two of them after all. They’d seemed to have changed so much since they were happy little kids playing fantasy games in his backyard and Roman wasn’t sure it was for the better.

Only seeming mildly put out by Roman virtually flinching away from his touch, Patton turned those big, blue puppy-dog eyes on him, expecting him to just cave, sit down again and let Patton fuss all over him.

So, instead, Roman picked up his tray. 

"I don't know what's going on here but if you want to apologise to me, I'll be at Dee and Logan's table," he stated, tone sounding far more confident than he felt.

Patton's fake smile dropped into a glower, causing Roman to take a step back in surprise. "Oh, finally worked up the courage to ask out the snake bitch, huh?"

Roman didn't reply, far too much in a state of shock to do anything other than turn around and make the walk over to Dee's table. He could hear some of the other students around him commenting on his actions—those close enough to eavesdrop jumping around to their friends on other tables to share the story—but Roman just ignored them. He'd gotten used to the gossip that came with being "popular" a long time ago. Though, that's not to say he wouldn't be happy to lose it.

He came to a stop at the side of Logan and Dee's table, finding himself too self-conscious to speak up as he listened to them debate the merits of selfish actions. It was horribly nerdy and terribly endearing and Roman honestly would have been happy to stand there all day if his arms weren't beginning to get tired.

He cleared his throat, watching as both of the table's occupants froze almost immediately, turning to face him "Hi."

There was a moment of silence—Roman shuffling his feet awkwardly—before Logan decided to speak up.

"Roman Prince." Xe regarded him with a kind of startled concern, looking slightly caught out, but Roman just gave a nervous smile. "Are you… in need of something?"

Roman let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Um, my friends were just being—" he struggled for the right word for a moment before finally settling on—"dicks. They were being dicks. Um… and I was wondering if I would be able to sit here, instead?"

Roman watched as a dark blush rose to Dee's face, a sort of frightened look in his eye that had him glancing over to Logan for some sort of reassurance. Logan, however, seemed to be poorly concealing a smirk and clearly was not going to be of any assistance to him. Roman tried not to be too concerned about what that look meant.

"I believe that would be acceptable," xe said, grabbing xyr bag off of the seat beside xem so he had a place to sit down. Roman let out a rush of air as he did so, dropping his tray with a thunk as he watched Dee glare at Logan slightly, though he could tell it held no real animosity.

Dee picked a cookie up off his lunch tray, nibbling on it nervously and Roman couldn’t help but smile. He wondered if he’d be able to get a caramel slice with his lunch tomorrow. They were always his favourites but eventually, he’d given in to the disapproving looks from his friends whenever he’d get one. Somehow, he didn’t think that was going to happen here.

“So,” Logan broke the silence, directing xyr gaze at Dee though cutting xyr eyes over to Roman for a brief moment, “How did you do on your most recent history assessment?”

Dee scrunched up his nose. “Ugh, a B minus. And I actually tried on that one too.”

Roman remembered that project, it was actually a rather creative one—something he greatly appreciated. “Write a diary entry from the point of view of someone in a particular historical period, including appropriate language and presentation”. He’d ended up choosing the Elizabethan era, flaunting his fairly in-depth knowledge of Shakespearian language to paint a rather delightful and dramatic love story in 3 or so pages of text. It had been all written out by hand too, utilising the ink pens he’d been given by his mother for his birthday a few years back.

He’d been extremely proud of that piece of work but all his friends had said was, “That’s nice, Roman,” and “Cool,” like he’d been telling them his boring weekend plans and not showing them something he was really pleased with. He’d been put out by that, sure, but… he’d supposed maybe it just hadn’t been as good as he’d thought it was.

“Roman?”

Roman jerked his head up to see both Logan and Dee looking at him in a questioning manner. “Hmm?”

“I was asking how you did on your history assessment,” xe reiterated, spearing a piece of pasta with xyr fork, “I’m under the impression that the two of you are in the same class.”

They were, in fact. The first time Roman had seen Dee sitting in the classroom on that first day of the year, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he sketched something in a notebook, Roman had nearly walked into the doorframe in a gay panicked mess. Of course, nobody else needed to know that.

Roman ducked his head shyly. “Oh, uh, I got an A.”

He was already preparing to dismiss the topic to move onto something else—something more palatable than Roman bragging about his grades—but Dee’s voice interrupted him.

“Roman, that’s brilliant.” His face was impressed—proud—and Roman’s eyes widened, hope flooding his chest despite his best efforts to suppress it. “I mean, I worked for weeks straight on that thing and I barely got above average.”

Roman flushed at the praise, trying not to preen too much at the way Dee was looking at him. It made something in his chest flip-flop around and he bit at his lip to try and hide the smile that was taking over his face.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he laughed, “I, uh- I always liked history, especially the classics. There are just so many incredible stories and the language is gorgeous and it’s always so much queerer than historians claim. I mean-”

Realising he’d been about to start rambling, he cut himself off abruptly, snapping his mouth shut and flushing in embarrassment. Stupid. He couldn’t scare them away before he’d even gotten the chance to know them. Logan regarded him with a curious look, seemingly confused by his actions; Dee, however, gave him a sad sort of smile.

“Ro?” Roman met Dee’s eyes—kind and understanding, aware of how it felt to be talked over and ignored and dismissed—and softened slightly. “We would adore hearing about why you love history so much. Wouldn’t we, Logan?”

The look Dee was giving xem was unidentifiable to Roman, however, Logan seemed to know exactly what he was trying to convey as xe raised xyr eyebrows slightly, nodding xyr head. “Of course, yes.”

Roman studied them for a moment, trying to gauge their sincerity.

He’d never believe Dee to be all that malicious. Was he opinionated? Sure. Was he selfish? Almost definitely. He prioritised himself and his wellbeing and the only time Roman had ever seen him go out of his way was for Logan and he should be appalled by that behaviour, except… Roman sort of… admired him for it?

It’d been a long time since he’d done something purely for himself. So many of his actions were performative. Restrained. Suppressed. And, with that in mind, he gave one last glance between Logan and Dee and, for the first time in years, Roman let himself talk.

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General tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @lovelylogicality @mctaetae613 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @that-one-sunfish-with-a-wig-on @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hhhhhhhhhhfjaskfsagfhasfgdsakfsa @autistic-virgil @happysingingturtles @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 (and @dr-gloom you asked to be tagged!)

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Could I ask for Mountain Tim with #9 (The first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body)? I love me my cowboys- would absolutely wed him on the spot if I met him irl!!

Yee to the haw! I would totally marry him too! I'm so glad you requested! Also I just managed to finish this on my lunch break.

The night watch (Yandere Mountain Tim X Female Reader)

You had been sitting in a train carriage for maybe two to three days. You couldn't help but be struck in awe, so much had changed in America since you were sent away to France nineteen years ago, slavery had been abolished and the county was slowly gaining momentum as an upper nation and another presidential campaign had began.

You couldn't read a newspaper without seeing Funny Valentine's name on almost every page and you could understand why he was a man of the nation and had the patriotism that a president needed.

As the train grinded to a halt the dust flew up in the hot summer wind. You stood up, grabbed your bags and made your exit. You walked calmly out of the train and saw only one unfamiliar male standing at the station. A blonde haired male who had the indistinguishable look of a cowboy. He tipped his hat up as he noticed your presence and you caught the gleam of his sheriff's badge as he approached you. You let out a hiss of annoyance, he was most likely sent by Mayor Harold Jones to have you locked up for the crime you never committed.

"Are you here to arrest me sheriff because if you are then please do so later, I have to visit my mother urgently" you said as you tried to walked past him but he grabbed your arm to stop you. For a split second you could see a gleam of shock in his eyes.

"No I wasn't aware of any pending arrest against you, I'm I'm hear with a heavy heart to tell you that your mother passed away yesterday morning" he responded as he gave you an empathetic expression. You looked back at him once more and let out a sigh. You knew one day this day would come. The prophecy was tattoed in your skin. To you it was a horrible foreshadowing of what the future had in store and now it had finally happened.

It was an uncanny birthmark that went from a simple blob to actual words, you never knew why or how this happened but you did know that a sign like that would never lie.

"I'm sorry for your loss ma'am" he said. You didn't respond to him, you had no words to say.

"Do you need some help with your bags?" He asked.

"No I'm perfectly fine" you said as you shook his hand away and began to walk off to the small town which you once called home.

As you walked down the long street you saw everyone watched you, their eyes all filled with hate. The town was almost dead silent until a gunshot erupted, you could feel the bullet just brush past you.

You looked to your left to see a gruff male with a rifle in hand.

"McGavin... Couldn't even fire a sling shot properly, now look at you, can't even fire a gun... If you want to blow my brains out then I'd suggest moving to the right a little" you said in a cocky tone.

"You bitch-!" He yelled before a lady exited the house. You remembered her as a skinny blondie but the years of being married had obviously gotten to her.

"Oh Mary Ann, you really let yourself go" you commented about the fuller figured woman causing her to let out a gasp.

The town was now filled with howls and hollering, all of there mean comments directed at you but you didn't care, you'd dish out a full banquet of revenge upon them all at some stage.

As you walked down the street you noticed the blonde male following you, he only spoke after you left the chaos of the main street.

"I'd suggest you not to stir the pot if this town hates you, you were nearly shot" he said, a small amount of worry coated his calm voice and you laughed in response.

"Nobody told you?" You asked.

"About what?" He replied.

"I was forced to leave this town at the age of eight after I murdered the mayor's son Jimmy Jones..." Yo said as you turn to face the sheriff.

He looked at you in shock as he  heard such a confession come from such a young and refined woman.

"You don't think I could have done such a thing do you?" You asked him.

"No ma'am, it doesn't seem like something a young girl would do" he replied.

"My point exactly, now I must head to the house, I need to start unpacking so the house is pristine when my husband comes" you said before walking to a decent brick house at the end of the street.

👗👗👗

Those bitter first words were undeniably the same as the words over his chest, right on-top of his heart. It was a sigh of fate that you two were meant to meet.

A few weeks had passed since then and no matter where he'd go he'd always find you in some way. From what he had learnt, your name was (Y/n) (L/n) and you were an opulent dress maker that lived in France with your aunt and uncle and that you had moved back to your small hometown to start up a small business.

Everyone in town would talk about you like you were a monster in human form, a creature that brought pain and misfortune, a woman with a heart of stone or ice but when he looked in your eyes he could see a poor soul who seeked a peaceful life, a poor girl wearing a mask to hide away her emotions to all those who seeked to destroy her. It's like he had known her for all his life. Like he had watched all the times you had been kicked down and thrown around as a child.

Now he stood at the front door of your home. He knocked on the door.

"(Y/n) are you home?" He asked.

"Yes come in, if your here because June told you I stole from her shop then she's lying!" You yelled.

"I know, I saw the stolen goods at the back" he said as he walked in

"My Mama would do such a thing?" He heard another female exclaim before gasping. He walked into the living room to see you sitting at the coffee table with a younger female that held your sketch book in hand.

"You want me to wear that!" She nearly yelled at shock.

"Of course, do you think I would have gone to all the effort to sketch something I'd tell you not to" you calmly replied as you took the book back before looking towards him.

"Then what brings you here?" You asked him.

"I just wanted to see you, is there anything wrong with that?" He replied.

"Well you've chosen the right time, my husband is preparing some afternoon tea as we speak. so take a seat" you said and he complied, sitting on the chair beside both you and the ginger haired female.

"Honey we have another guest so could you please grab another plate and cup" you called out.

"I'm not that hungry so there's no need to spoil me with your hospitality" he replied.

"Nonsense, it would be impolite to not let you eat" you insisted before focusing on your first customer, Betty Marshalls.

"I'm sorry, where were we?" You asked her.

"Could you maybe-" she was about to speak before you cut her off.

"Oh that's right, I haven't shown you the fabric yet" you said as you pulled out a basket with various snippets of different fabrics. You hands dove in with absolute determination to find the right one before pulling it out.

"Now this one, it screams elegance" you said as you showed her a piece of black silk with red oriental patterns.

"Um isn't this outfit getting a little risque..." She shuttered which caused you to give her a stern glare.

"You asked me for something eye catching, so that is what I'm going to give you" you growled.

"But if my mama saw-" she was going to say before you stood from your chair and leaned towards here and gave her a harsh poke on her chest.

"You are twenty years old for Christ sake, your Mama is a delusional, psychotic mess that wants you to suck on her teat for the rest of your life! I'm sure as hell that she's only keeping ya because she lost her son in the Civil war! So if you want to have at least a speck of a chance to marry Harry Conners and live your own life I suggest you let me do the designing and keep ya big mouth shut!" You yelled out in a banshee like screech, causing the poor girl on the receiving end to sink into her chair with a horrified expression on her face.

"Bit harsh don't you think?" Tim piped in. You let out a sigh as you slumped back into your chair and rubbed your face with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I just get a little too revved up sometimes" you sighed to the two.

"It's... It's alright" Betty squeaked out like a little mouse.

"I know how much you love your Mama Betty... I'm still a little emotional about my mother but what I'm saying is true, your mother is a two faced bitch... You may see a wonderful lady who wants to protect you but she's doing more harm then good... I know because I saw how she manipulated your older brother" you explained to the poor girl.

"Honestly the only good thing about her I can point out is her chilli con carne..." You continued as you remembered how good the hot pot mixture was whenever you managed to steal a little at various town gatherings.

"Actually... You could pay me by telling me her recipe... I've been trying to cook it for my husband for years but I just can't seem to make it the way she does" you said as you leaned in towards her.

"No... I can't just tell you!" she exclaimed.

"O come on... No one will know, I'm only going to make it for me and my husband" you said.

"No"

"Fine then the initial price of sixty dollars it is" you sighed as you grabbed your sketch book and began to rework the design before handing it to her again.

"I've just made it a little more subtle but I'll let you choose the fabric this time, ok?" You asked.

"Yes, but are you sure your going to make this before the fair?" She asked.

"Of course four days will be a breeze" you said before looking to the blonde male.

"Sheriff Mountain Tim, this will be a secret amongst us, I can't have anyone knowing about this... Especially June" you said as you twirled your slender finger in a circular motion before placing it over your lips.

"Of course ma'am" he replied as a smile appeared on his lips, despite your cold exterior he knew you were a compassionate woman deep down. He just couldn't help but fall hopelessly in love.

"Oh honey what took you so long?" You asked as a man approached the coffee table with a large tray of savouries and sweets. He had dark hair and eyes that were typically associated with Asian descent but his skin and the way his features were contoured were more European.

"I was just making sure that the food was suitable for our guests darling" he said as he put the tray down before kissing you. Tim couldn't help but feel the jealousy stab into him like a knife. He knew that you were the wife of another man but he couldn't help feel that I should be him.

The rest of the afternoon you all sat down and ate and drank. You talked about your years in France and how you had met you husband Han Cresswell during a family vacation to Vietnam at the age of sixteen and that you both married a eighteen. Mountain Tim couldn't help but feel jealousy stir inside of him, threatening to boil over. He just couldn't help but feel that he was more deserving of your love.

👗👗👗

"Honey I'll stay home with you if your really that ill" you said as you sat beside your husband on the bed.

"No I'll be fine, I just need to rest up... You go out and enjoy yourself at the fair" he replied before letting out a horrible cough.

"Are you sure... I'll stay if you aren't feeling well" you replied before a knock on the bedroom door alerted you to see the ginger hair girl who had appeared without much warning.

"God don't scare me like that Betty" you exclaimed in shock as you held your chest.

"Sorry..." She muttered.

"How hard was it to shake your mother off?" You asked, she only gave you a disgusted expression as she showed you a crinkled and  yellowing dress that had enough frills to suffocate anyone in a three foot radius.

"Oh god, I'm guessing that was her tacky old dress" you nearly choked out in disgust and she nodded a yes in response.

"I'm sorry honey but I need to help this poor girl out..." You said before kissing his forehead and standing up.

"No it's fine" he said as he gave you a smile before you guided her to your dressroom.

Betty's eyes were filled with wonder as she saw the mannequins and fabrics, mirrors and draws as well as everything in-between. You were like the fairy godmother that would make her a Cinderella.

You pulled out at dress for her and showed it to her. It was a stunning black of the shoulder dress with silver detailing, the bottom of the dress went down to her ankle and had a slit up one side that would allow her to move freely while keeping the slim figured design.

It took forever to get her out of the tacky dress but once she had the new dress on she couldn't help but look at herself in suprise. It's like it was the first time she had seen herself with administration of her form. You quickly grabbed a brush and undid the horrible twin braids and brushed her hair before draping her hair over her right shoulder and pinning it on the left to hold it in place. Her natural wavy hair gave it the bounce it needed.

Now she was a completely different person. She looked like a starlet.

"Such little changes can make a big difference" you sighed, you could even say she looked more beautiful then you. She opened her mouth but no words could escape, she was speechless.

"Now you wait down stairs, I'll be ready to go soon" you said as you shooed her as you grabbed one of your dresses.

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Throughout the afternoon you sat smugly as you watched all the ladies look at her and feel like shit comparison. Of course you had June confront you and go absolutely mad. Screaming on how you turned her daughter into a witch, which made you laugh before responding with a few simple words

"You'll see the real witch in the mirror... You daughter wants to live her own life now"

As night fell you sat and watched couples dance away and Betty was not dancing with Harry Conners but instead with dashing stranger who's charm couldn't be compared, it reminded you of when you first met Han all those years ago.

You were finally pulled out of your thoughts by a familiar voice.

"What are you doing sitting here all by yourself tonight?" The blonde asked. You looked at him, staring deep into his blue eyes.

"I just wanted to see how everyone reacted to Betty's dress, my husband would of come but he got sick" you explained.

"What about you?" You asked him.

"A sheriff's duties are never over, I've been patrolling the town all afternoon, everyone seems to be here but who knows if some thieves were to show up" he replied.

"So what brought you to this place in the first place?" You asked.

"I've been wondering through America for most of my life, one day I found this little struggling town and I decided to help out, I don't consider this place a home but I'll stay as long as the town needs me" he explained and you gave him a nod as you continued to watch everyone dance with their partners. Mountain Tim noticed this and extended his hand.

"I know it's wrong to ask a married woman this without her husband's permission but would you care to dance with me?" He asked and a smile appeared on your face as you took his hand.

"I'd be delighted, I'm sure my husband would be fine with it" you replied as you stood up.

👗👗👗

"I really appreciate your offer but I think I'll be fine walking home myself" you insisted to Mountain Tim.

"Are you sure? I couldn't bare the thought of you getting hurt" he replied.

"I'll be fine, my move isn't that far away, but thank you for the offer" you said.

"No need to thank me"

"Then can I tell you at least that I appreciated your company tonight, I'll admit it was daunting to be somewhere full of people that hate me..." You confessed.

"I'm glad I was, I don't see why the town could hate a beautiful woman such as yourself" he commented causing your face to turn a light shade of pink.

"I hope you have a safe trip home" he said.

"You too" you said as you began to walk.

Mountain Tim watched you fade into the distance and let out a sigh before lifting his shirt to reveal the bandaged wound he had, his blood slowly seeping through the layers of cotton gauze pads and bandages. He wished you had taken him up on the offer, he could of just followed you anyway but that would only draw suspension. He knew what he had done will add fuel to the town's fiery hatred towards you but after all, love makes a man a fool. Love makes a man do crazy things.

You felt sick as you felt your guys turning, something was off but you simply thought it might be your suprise to his compliment. You walked through the dark town that was only illuminated by the moon. When you got closer to your home you notice something was hanging from the large tree out the front.

With each step closer fear began to solidify until you realised what was hanging from it was a body, your husband's body. You ran quickly and screamed in horror. You tried to untie the end of the rope that suspended your husband's body but you couldn't.

You looked around for something and found his small dagger on the ground near his body. You picked it up and noticed the crimson liquid that stained the blade before you desperately sawed at the rope for what seemed like minutes. You cried out in fear and pain as you desperately hoped that you could save him. You occasionally ran the blade over your hands by accident as you tried you hardest to cut the rope.

Eventually the rope gave in and his body fell with a thud. You ran over and screamed out his name and cradled him in your arms as you prayed for him to still be alive, but it was no use... Had been dead long before you had arrived.

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"So... Everyone thinks I killed him" you sobbed into your hankerchief.

"I'm afraid so (Y/n)..." Mountain Tim responded.

"But... I loved him" you cried.

"I know, I don't think you did it but I'm investigating, I have to set my thoughts of you aside and look at the facts" he explained as he leaned forward and wiped the tears on your cheek with his thumb. Your attention caught was quickly caught by the blood dyed bandages you could only just see as the front of his shirt slightly draped as well as a tattoo over the left side of his chest, they seemed to form words but you couldn't make them out in that particular angle. For some reason your intuition was telling you something was up with whatever lied underneath the bandages.

"Why are you in bandages?" You asked.

"You shouldn't try to get involved with my personal matters, besides you need to tell me what you know" he replied in a stern tone.

"No, I'm not going to tell you anything until you show me what your hiding under those wraps" you responded in a peeved tone.

"You seem eager to avoid the subject" he responded.

"And so do you... You know I don't have the drive to commit murder" you replied.

"I never said I believed you did it, nor that it was a murder..." He replied.

"It was... As a matter of fact I found my husband's dagger at the crime scene with someone else's blood on it..." You explained. Then it clicked in your mind. The bloody dagger, Tim's injury and the time frame. He was the only one that hadn't been at the fair for the entire afternoon.

But rather then burst into tears or go rampant you sat quietly and looked at him straight in the eyes.

"What would bring a man such as yourself to take another's life in such a slow and painful way?" You asked him in a monotone voice. He simply slipped further into the lounge and let out a sigh as he shook his head.

"I'd be lying if I told you that I suspected you would figure it out" he sighed.

"I learnt a lot more in France then just sewing sheriff" you hissed.

"So what drove you to murder my husband?" You asked as you folded your arms.

"(Y/n), jealousy can drive a man to do crazy things" he explained as he took his hat off.

"So what did you want? Was it money?" You asked and he simply let out a chuckle in response.

"No, nothing materialistic ma'am" he said before you were pulled in towards him with a rope.

"Just a lonesome man such as myself would kill to have a passionate woman such as yourself to call their own" he cooed before planting a soft peck on your lips.