#these intermissions last for as long as i want them to last :-)

[dannystheone]

more lee deadpool!!!!! i love how u write him and wolverine sm<3

aww thank you so much! It took me a second to think about what I wanted to write lol but here it is!

this is just a little somethin somethin nothing special lel

and sorry this took so long to come out I haven't been feeling motivated to write and I've been taking dress to impress on roblox very seriously LMAO

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FROM THE MOVIE/ Cursing, shenanigans, fourth wall breaks, nastiness, mentions of alcohol, mentions of BDSM

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE!!

A Who Dun' It Mystery! (Lee Deadpool/Ler Wolverine)

Logan wakes up to find all his beer gone from the refrigerator without knowing who took it! Can Logan withstand all of Wade's antics to get a straight answer?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"RAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

Birds flew out of their nesting places and whole houses shook on their foundations from the roar uttered on this peaceful morning. Squirrels, bugs, birds, pretty much the whole cast of Bambi ran for the hills to escape the terrifying beast.

Aside from one simple sleeping man and his adorable companion. That simple sleeping man was none other than Wade Wilson, otherwise known as the Merc with the Mouth, Marvel Jesus, People's Sexiest Man Alive in 2010- although in my opinion he was snubbed for 2008- and his adorable companion was Dogpool, of course.

Now, sleeping soundly, dreaming of Vanessa, Thor, and a certain web-slinger- Deadpool snored contently while the angry footsteps of the terrifying creature stalked to his bedroom. The angry creature better watch where he steps because Wade turned his room into a snow globe last night! And no, not the kind from the gift shop, although I'm sure if you ask politely, the gift shop worker would be more than happy to help you make this kind of snowglobe with a crisp 20 dollar bill-

The door was thrown open with a slam; the terrifying creature was revealed to be The Wolverine! Now is this story the one where the boy gets the monster at the end? Maybe an intermission of some kind-

"Shut the fuck up." Logan stalked toward Wade on his bed, careful not to step in a certain spot of something on the ground, and grabbed the papers Wade was reading aloud. Logan flipped the papers around to see the cover page, 'A Who 'Dun It Mystery!' Written by dannystheone''. Logan growled and threw the papers to the side of the room. Wade put his hands up innocently and looked at Logan.

"Someone's delightful this morning. Did you finally catch the bad kitty you chase in your dreams boy, huh? Or did you find my stash of catnip? Do you have more dog energy or cat energy? Let's ask the audience." Wade turned towards the camera, but Logan grabbed Wade's jaw and forced him to look him in the eye.

"Who the fuck, in this godforsaken household, drank the last of my beer?" Logan asked with a deathly calm. Wade lifted an eyebrow at the suggestive hold Logan had him in and spoke with his cheeks squished in his grip.

"If I answer the question, that'll take up one of your three wishes granted by the great and powerful Genie-Pool! And no, we're not using Robin Williams's rights for this one, but we can use Disney's. Would you like to use the wish to answer that question? Remember, one of my rules is I can't make anyone fall in love with you, even me, pretty boy~" Deadpool blew him a smooch as Wolverine snarled and pointed a finger in his face.

"A real. Fucking. Answer. You fucking moron. Who the hell drank my shit? Or I'll get the answer out of you." Logan threatened. Wade giggled like a girl, fanning his cheeks at the suggestive implications. Well, what Wade interpreted as suggestive anyway.

"Oh, you naughty little honey badger! Now I'm starting to think of what you'll do if I don't tell you~ Do we have a Tek Knight-type setup somewhere in the house? I should really invest in something like that-" Wolverine's temper got the better of him as he unsheathed his claws and thrust them forward. Deadpool jumped as he sacrificed a unicorn plushy to take the brunt of Wolverine's claws. The unicorn's fluff puffed out everywhere as Logan's claws stabbed the plushy.

"Nah ah ah! No claws in the house mister! We can't make all the furniture in the house red to cover up the bloodstains that come from claw-related incidents- although that would certainly be on brand. Could you imagine a couch designed by the guys who made the Deadpool X-Box controller? I might need to patent this million-dollar idea." Wolverine stared at him incredulously as he sheathed his claws. Deadpool looked to the broken unicorn plushy with a sigh and tossed it to the side.

"Jesus Christ, you're a yammering idiot. Your ADHD has ADHD, for God's sake. Will ya just tell me who drank my fucking beer already? I'll only hurt them a little bit..." Wolverine was clearly exasperated, but Deadpool had energy for days when it came to messing with his Wolvie-bear.

"Mmmm, I dunnooo... what do I get if I help you? A gratuitous turn-down service, perhaps? Almost as gratuitous as that lovely callback~ I hope you all at home reading this enjoyed that-" Deadpool said lovingly.

"Alright, that's it," Logan said aloud. Wade was cut off as Logan threw his legs over Wade and straddled him damn near on his ribcage with his arms pinned to his sides, effectively trapping him.

"Woah woah woah big boy! Establish the safe word first before you engage! We went through the BDSM guidelines together! You disregarding everything the BDSM subreddit taught us makes you no better than P-Diddy!" Deadpool looks to the camera. "Too soon, you think? I think it's in good taste."

Wolverine rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly started wriggling his fingers in Deadpool's ribs. Deadpool was currently wearing a white t-shirt with cartoon cats all over it and classic white boxers with red hearts all over them. His usual attire that gave him a little protection from Wolvie's tickle attacks was at the dry cleaners after the last job he had.

Logan realized very early in his 'relationship' with Wade that sometimes Wade needed to be tickled to be cooperative. He had no idea why, he had never met someone like Wade before so he assumed the weirdness and the absurdity of it came with the territory.

Additionally, with the no blood rule in the house and an elderly woman as their other roommate, this was the closest thing to 'violence' that Wolverine could use to take his aggression out on Deadpool. Wolverine had to admit, it felt good sometimes to take it all out on him like this. Logan's fingers scribbled and scratched in Wade's ribs, Wade immediately breaking out into peals of laughter.

"L-Lohohogahahan!! Wahahait wahahait wait!" Deadpool was caught by surprise, and thank GOD he was wearing his mask because he was blushing redder than the material his mask was made of. It always caught Deadpool by surprise when Wolverine randomly tickled him like this, only because it was so out of left field for his character. Almost as if this isn't a regular thing that would occur in the MCU and only occurs in the minds of degenerates on the internet.

"I WIHIHISH thahat wehehere the cahahase!! If ihihihit wehehere, I wohohouldn't behehe gehehetting tihihihickled rihihight nohohow!!" Deadpool yelled at no one in particular. Wolverine sneered as his fingers dotted Deadpool's ribs with an accuracy only experience could give. He wasn't feeling playful this time around, he just wanted an answer to where his beer had gone and he feared this was the only way he could get it.

"You wouldn't be getting ti-... be getting this treatment if you would just tell me who drank my damn beer. You always make it hard on yourself." Logan sighed and continued to tickle the merc. Deadpool swished from side to side on his bed as well as he could with a whole hunk of Hugh Jackman and adamantium skeleton on him.

"Awhahahaha!~ Yohohou stihihihill cahahan't sahahay thehe wohohord?! Yohohou're sohohoho cuhuhuhute!~" Wade teased, causing Logan to bristle and dig his fingers in further as retaliation. Even when Wade was in the throes of being tickled, he still managed to fluster his Ler. It was a superpower at that point.

"I got a different word I can say. Who the hell drank my goddamn beer?" Wolverine snarled, Deadpool still twitching and shuffling from side to side as the tickles came from either side of him.

"Nohohohot a wohohord! Thahahat's ahaha sehehentence! Haharvard DOESN'T wahahant yohohour lohohocation!" Deadpool laughed more genuinely now from his own joke than the tickles he was receiving. Logan growled from not having his question answered again and forced his fingers into the small spaces of Wade's armpits and vibrated his fingers into them. Wade shrieked and started belly laughing now.

"How about you tell me the location of my beer, huh? Think you can do that, Bub? Did Al drink it? Did you? Answer me!" Wolverine shouted over Deadpool's loud laughing. Deadpool tried squeezing the spaces that held Wolverine's fingers, but it just made the fingers tighter and closer to the skin, so either way it sucked.

"I dohohon't drihihink beheheer! I ohohonly drihihink thehehe fihihinest Aviahation Gihin!-" Wolverine's hands were lifted from Deadpool as Deadpool turned to the camera with a bottle of Aviation Gin appearing in his hands. -"Which you can now purchase from any local liquor store near you, including the Limited Deadpool Edition. Thank you for choosing Aviation Gin. Sincerely, Ryan Reynolds." Wade put the bottle back from its mysterious spot where it was before and assumed the exact same position he was in before with Wolverine's hands back in his armpit spaces.

"Then who the hell drank it? This can aaaall be over as soon as you tell me who did it!" Wolverine asked again. You would think he was beginning to lose his patience, but Logan was actually calming down from his previous place of anger now that he had an outlet to take it out. Wade was the unfortunate (or fortunate, whatever floats your boat) recipient of that, however.

"I cahahahan't! I wahahahas swohohorn tohoho sehehecrecy! I swehehehear!!" Deadpool sounded genuine this time, but Wolverine wasn't having it. Logan took it a step further and took his fingers to slide them up Wade's signature mask and started fluffing his fingers over his neck and the bottoms of his ears. He knew this was a secret spot that wasn't touched very often and found it by mistake, so it should be doubly effective here.

"Yeah? Well, I've done plenty of interrogating in my day, breaking down my victims and having them submit. S'aaall a matter of time now..." Logan attempted to sound intimidating but to Wade, this was just silly.

"PFFT! Hahahahaha! Ohohokahahay, whahahatever yohohou sahahay, Fihifty Shahades Of Grehey! Ohoho I'll suhuhubmihit ahahalright! Ihihif thahahat's whahahat yohohou wahahant!~" Deadpool couldn't help but laugh at his own hilarity, which just pissed Wolverine off.

Logan took his fingers from Wade's neck and took them down to his collarbones, to which Wade exploded. Wade was weird in the sense that his ticklish spots were never consistent. One spot would barely get him to laugh in one tickle session, and the next session that same spot would break him. Only ever adding to just how bizarre he was.

"You'll submit it you don't want to die first. Looks like you already got one foot in the grave from how hard you're laughing. Who swore you to secrecy huh?" Logan started gently pinching Wade's collarbones, which drove Wade up the wall. His legs started kicking and his head started whipping back and forth (with Willow Smith just out of frame).

"NOHOHO nohoho no! Okahahay okahahay stahahahap!! Ihihihit wahahas DohohohogPool! Wehehe rahahahan ohohohout of wahahater sohohoho I gahahahave hihihihihim the beheheheer!!" Deadpool spilled his secret, causing Wolverine to stop.

"You did what? You gave my beer to the sock puppet?" Wolverine got off of Deadpool, standing up and off to the side to let the merc breathe. Wade held a hand up to his chest while he caught his breath and turned to Logan.

"FIRST OF ALL- the gorgeous munchkin's name is DogPool, or- alternatively, the Messiah, if you'd like."

"Never calling him that-" Logan interjected.

"-Second of all, I only did it to be the best caregiver I could possibly be, without going to the store or getting any sort of grocery delivery service. Have you seen what a DoorDasher will do to your food if you don't tip? It's enough to make a 4-Channer fall to his knees, and that's saying something." Deadpool hauled himself up into a sitting position at the edge of his bed while Wolverine stood with his hands on his hips.

"You're ridiculous, you know that? Why couldn't you give it water from out of the tap?" Wolverine asked, sounding genuine. Deadpool gave him an incredulous look even through the mask.

"What kind of Fantasy/Disney/Fairytale-Land do you live in where we're rich enough to have drinkable tap water or rich enough to own a Brita? You think any of the money from the movie actually made it into our pockets? Ryan, Hugh, and Shawn pooled all the money the movie made together to fundraise Ryan to get back on his feet after the absolute disaster that was 'IF'. Regular tap water isn't good enough for my ray of sunshine, so I chose the next best option." Deadpool picked up DogPool sleeping right next to his bed and offered him to Wolverine to hold.

"Don't you want the best for the little chicken noodle?" Deadpool asked sweetly. Wolverine quirked an eyebrow at the dog with the tongue sticking out of his mouth. Dammit, it was so ugly and pathetic looking it was somewhat... cute. He didn't know how the dog managed to do it, but whatever his tactics were, they were working. Wolverine rolled his eyes and gave the dog's head a pat. Deadpool squealed at the display.

"Yaaay! My kitty and my puppy making up. Oh, we're all happy, aren't we? And yes Wolvie, your next six-pack is on me when I do eventually go to the store. Those 1000 bottles of baby oil aren't going to buy themselves. Two jokes in one fic folks. How we feeling about that? Go ahead and tell Danny in the comments or reblogs below." Deadpool said, putting DogPool back on his oversized bed.

"You're going to the store immediately if you know what's good for you." Wolverine threatened. Deadpool stood up from his bed and looked at Wolverine sympathetically.

"Oh, honey bear... when have I ever known what's good for me?" Deadpool asked in a loving tone.

Wolverine answered with a deadpan expression and merely unsheathed his claws quickly with a loud SNIKT.

Jumping with a loud yelp, Deadpool hurriedly ran out of his bedroom, hopping over the puddle of mysterious liquid on the floor before leaving the house for the grocery store.

[bilbao-song]

okay at long last (i wanted to do this at least a little sooner but by the end of last night i was so sleep deprived my brain was not functional): jeffrey in boston on the 23rd!!! (really in-depth PARAGRAPHS of rambling below the cut so you only have to look at it if u want to, otherwise just enjoy the photos lmao)

so. hmmmm what to say about this lmao (the first two paragraphs are probably least important here if u don't want to read All Of That)

all of this was like.....................a dream. like i know talking about this makes me sound like Insane Person Whose Life Revolves Around Concertgoing (although that's kind of just the truth tbh) but being THIS close was like...THE dream to me. or at least the most realistically attainable dream we got there a liiiittle after the opening band had started (they are pretty great btw? i approve. like i'm genuinely excited to see them lol) and i'm not sure what the problem was tbh!! we arrived at a perfectly reasonable time but then everyone got corralled into a giant line that like, looped around itself and wrapped around the block. so that took like ~25 minutes to get through. anywayyy i got one of the ???people who work there (there's a word for this that is escaping me atm) to help me find my seat bc things were of course a bit chaotic by that point and well...........that was a positively magical little jaunt as we got closer and closer and i just kind of lost my mind. my seat was in the third row riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight in the middle. like, perfectly in the middle. it could hardly have been any better :'))))

so! i sat there by myself which felt a little strange bc although i do like doing things on my own i have just never done this before. the only other concert i have been to where i sat basically by myself was like, a thing i got to go to bc someone gave me their extra ticket (air supply! which was fun but like, i only went bc it just came up. no disrespect to air supply lmao) and even then the person next to me was like, super nice and also clearly entertained by my dedication to older music (always exquisite to encounter someone who genuinely wants to hear about ur interests. like once you manage to convince me you're asking out of genuine interest the floodgates are OPEN) but anyway!!! the strangers in the elo mosh pit did not talk to me. this was fine but i was a tiny bit surprised bc everyone has been pretty chatty at the other ones i have been to...as an aside i was repeatedly given the impression that the people directly behind me were kind of mean (consistently not shutting up during the opening act, loudly making rude comments about them, just kind......whining a lot lmao) so i'm 100000% good with not talking to them lol

ANYWAY...onto the important part. sitting through the little intermission was excruciating and kind of went by too quickly bc i kind of did not want the concert to start bc the sooner it started the sooner it was over </3 but it was fun to be sooo close bc i enjoyed watching the crew set everything up and adjusting things and putting jeffrey's little table directly in front of me and whatnot 🥺 but then it started and it was like..............surreal. it quickly became clear that i really had chosen like the absolute perfect seat bc a) the two people in front of me were really short. thank god (the jackasses behind me were also at least a little taller than me so i'm happy for them and was not sorry for standing in front of them in my huge shoes) b) jeffrey directly in front of me. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) again this was like. SURREAL to me in a way bc it's just!!! the best yet and also 💕🥹💕🥹💕🥹 of course. i have been at least slightly pleasantly surprised by my seats at each one i've been to on this tour but even here i experienced that bc i did think i would be off to the side at least a tiiiiny bit...but no it was actually perfect. exquisite. like, i'm really truly not one of those overly-idolizing/Lose Your Mind Over Proximity To Famous Person types but well. i mean if you have read this far i'm sure you are already well aware of how i feel about him lmao

moving forward......bringing this up makes me feel weird bc it sounds so......well. you know. but ummmmm eye contact was definitely established repeatedly 🥺👉👈 looking at me and smiling adorably...........like, this is no exceptional credit to me or anything bc like...what else is he supposed to look at. i was very directly in his field of vision and significantly taller than the two people in front of me lol so he would have had to go to great lengths not to look at me at all. but ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my god???????? it was also kind of hilarious bc it did very muchly keep triggering my insane reflex to look AWAY from people when they make eye contact with me so i had to keep consciously correcting that bc like ????? HELLO lmao. but it was just!!!!!!!! very sweet!!!!!!!!! he was very smiley and adorable. typical...........i could opine on this further but i shan't at the risk of sounding insane. but like this alone was worth it to me sdjkhsjkhsd. felt Nice!!!!!!!!

anyway hmmm what else. well it was just spectacular but u already knew that. his voice has sounded remarkably perfect at each of these shows and that really stands out to me bc i just love that :') i also just love that he's repeatedly absolutely killing it, most importantly just because like, of course!! yay!! but also bc for awhile there was like, a cluster of very weird naysayers within the general community (which involved some kind of disgusting behavior imo but i won't go into detail about that bc like, why rehash it when it's both negative and profoundly ridiculous) and every single concert is just a really beautiful little I Told You So to those people which is SO satisfying to me bc i love to see that sort of thing getting thoroughly shut down and also slightly in part bc i love when i'm right and rude people who i don't like are wrong but that's as snarky as i will allow myself to be in an otherwise very happy post. <3 but i like. idk i just knew. and everyone else who isnt absolutely bonkers did too but well. etc etc etc

as a final note!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! idk i loved it. and i'm so glad that i get to go to the phoenix one as well bc although i'm already getting a little emo about this (........i was already a slight mess after the one in indianapolis tbh) i do think that's like, the only thing that's keeping me from losing it entirely lmao. i feel super lucky to have done all of this and i am having a very very very very very good time

[snowbatsims]

VAMPIRE INTERMISSION #3

Finally, Rune and Morten woke up.

Rune didn't really sleep that well, so he's doing a dark meditation on top of it...

While Morten woke up fairly well-rested, and is just kind of annoyed. Like, what the hell. They're a coffin sleeper now??

He does not know how to feel about this.

Well, well, well. Look who decided to shoot Rune a text as soon as he opened his Social Bunny: Andreas Ojo, his old ex.

He hasn't heard from this man in actual years. Probably because Andreas was a total cheating bastard, but it has been a while, and they've both moved on since then.

Right?

ANDREAS: Rune! Oh man, it has been so many years, and now I suddenly spotted you on my social bunny feed. Would you like to come over for like, a cup of... uh, blood or something? No I'm not a vampire, but I know you are, so hey, let's at least catch up a bit. RUNE: Alright.

It looks like he lives in Henford-on-Bagley these days. Rune does wonder what he's up to, and against his better judgement, he agreed to go.

RUNE: You rang? RUNE: Boy, how many years has it been now? You've gotten all grey already! ANDREAS: Quite a few, yes. Maybe even twenty. Hello!

RUNE: Soooo.... how has life been treating you? I see you at least managed to get out of that shack at the bluffs! ANDREAS: Ah, yes... yes. Well, it wasn't quite rags to riches for me, but at least I can say I got myself out of that hole and found a nice place to live here comfortably. RUNE: Oh, good!

ANDREAS: But I gotta say.... I have been craving more. RUNE: Like what? ANDREAS: Time. Money. Adventure... ANDREAS: You.

RUNE: Woww, wait, hold up there. RUNE: Me??? ANDREAS: My feelings for you never went away, just please- RUNE: No. RUNE: No no no, we are absolutely not rekindling that trainwreck of a relationship. ANDREAS: Aw, come on- RUNE: No. I'm over you. I'm sorry.

RUNE: And besides, you're married. ANDREAS: 😰 RUNE: Supernatural hearing, remember? I can literally hear your current wife and kid inside the house. RUNE: I know what you're doing.

ANDREAS: I could always divorce her... RUNE: No!! ANDREAS: If I become a vampire, I could outlive her. We could- RUNE: Still no.

RUNE: Listen here Andy, I only showed up for a visit, for a bit of catch-up, and maybe hang out at a local bar or something, as mere friends... RUNE: After all, it's been twenty years since I last saw you, so of course I'd hoped you had changed at least a little since then. I'm not here to unknowingly help you cheat again. That's not happening. No. ANDREAS: Aw..... not even a little smooch? RUNE: No. Please respect my boundaries on this, alright?

ANDREAS: Fine.... Fine. ANDREAS: But listen, I've been thinking.... I recently heard one of my oldest sons died in a fire. He was about to get married and everything... ANDREAS: It truly makes me realize how fragile life itself is. To be snuffed out so early... RUNE: I thought you just had a daughter? ANDREAS: Ah yeah, but I also had three children with this woman called Billie Jang, before I got together with Masami, the vampire who caught us in the act. You remember that, yes?

RUNE: All too well... ANDREAS: Yeah. ANDREAS: Anyway, I'm thinking about my son Rolf. He's dead now. I don't want to die too, there are so many things I haven't gotten around to, I-- ANDREAS: ....... ANDREAS: I want to be a vampire. Alright? RUNE: ....

RUNE: WHAT??? ANDREAS: It's just a simple bite and then some of your vampire blood, isn't it? Come on, man. You know me. RUNE: It's not "just a simple bite"!! RUNE: And besides, I have never done this before, and just- No. I cannot turn you. ANDREAS: Ah. RUNE: Being a vampire isn't even all that it's cracked up to be!! And I just never had the choice in the first place, having been born like this. RUNE: You'll be forced to be nocturnal, you can't eat food anymore, the sun will hurt and you won't have as many opportunities. You'll be mostly closed off from the mortal world, Andy. Didn't you hate sleeping in coffins?? ANDREAS: Not a problem. I've thought about this for a while now and I don't think I'll mind this stuff all that much. I'll still take all that, over not having enough time to do anything at all. RUNE: Er... alright, suit yourself?? But I really don't want to be the one to sire you like that. It does not feel right. ANDREAS: Fine. ANDREAS: I just thought you still loved me. RUNE: Andy- ANDREAS: Can't I at least have a hug before you leave? RUNE: I guess...

RUNE: ... RUNE: Promise me you won't try to become immortal, alright? ANDREAS: .... RUNE: Andreas Ojo-

RUNE: (idiot.....)

CONTINUE ->

bonus chapter ->

[tramontane-fire]

oh and I just got a text from a recruiter about a contract in ND so at least I'm wanted for my medical skills??

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Okay this one's been stuck in my head all day but I have absolutely time to write it so please share this vision with me

Try as they might, Steve and Robin couldn't get tickets to Chrissy Cunningham's arena tour, but they could get tickets to a festival she was playing.

The last thing Steve ever wanted to do was go and stand in a muddy field for sixteen hours while they waited for the headline act. But he was pretty sure Robin was in love with her favourite musician, and he wasn't about to deny his best friend a chance at love.

So he helped her make personalised t-shirts because honestly all the other bands in the line-up kinda sounded like they sucked.

His read, "Only Here for Chrissy" on the front and "I'm Steve" on the back and Robin's read "Chrissy, Will You Be My Girlfriend?" on the front and "If Lost, Please Return To Steve" on the back.

And it turned out, as they stood against the barrier in a not so muddy field, on a lovely, warm, but overcast, May day, that even bands that sucked could be fun. Even if it was only because they spent their day with earplugs in, so their eardrums wouldn't combust, bitching about each artist's lack of ability to put notes or an outfit together.

During the lunchtime intermission, the pair made friends with the lesbian couple next to them, Kayla and Jess, who were also eagerly awaiting Chrissy's set and similarly liked to mock those who committed crimes against sound and fashion. Steve was glad to have met them, they were really nice, and he felt better about leaving her to use the bathroom or to fetch food, knowing Robin was in safe hands.

He also felt better about letting her wander off, not that it stopped him from stressing out when she and Kayla had been missing for over fifteen minutes. He spread himself out to keep their places against the railing with his back to the stage, watching the crowd intently. Jess wasn't quite as chatty once they were alone, but she seemed content enough, bobbing along to the band that'd appeared on the stage.

Steve didn't turn back around to face the stage until he spotted the girls heading back towards them, he gave them a wave and turned around to look at the guys who hadn't been attempting to destroy anyone's hearing and was met with the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Pretty face, long curly hair tied up in a bun, muscle tee showing off his many tattoos, piercings and chains and glittery Docs; Steve felt himself owl blink and blush.

God's gift to mankind was kneeling centre stage, guitar in hand making the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard as his fingers flew over the strings, and it was only when the rest of the band kicked back in that the man looked up, winked directly at Steve, and then jumped back to his feet, spending the rest of the song bouncing around the stage.

Steve only realised his mouth was agape when Robin finally arrived next to him and elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him the same look she did whenever he was embarrassing in the club. He watched the rest of the Corroded Coffin, according to the backdrop, set in awe. Screaming and clapping along when they wished everyone a great day, throwing picks and drumsticks into the crowd and taking a bow; patting each other on the back as they wandered offstage.

As soon as it was quiet again, Robin wanted to know what the hell was wrong with his face and honestly, he couldn't answer her. He didn't even believe in love, not for himself at least, and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight. It didn't stop him from spending the next couple of hours watching the faces at the sides of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new favourite guitarist, though.

As soon as Chrissy hit the stage, Steve got lost, between filming the set and watching Robin trying not to hyperventilate when Chrissy spotted her t-shirt, pointed to her, and giving her a coy little wink, blew her a kiss.

"An old school friend is here with me tonight, and I'd like him to help me out with this next track. Especially for the beauty in the front row, this is Girlfriend!"

The crowd went wild as the beat kicked in, but Steve was still watching Robin because it looked like she'd stopped breathing altogether. That was until she gasped loudly and started smacking Steve in the way she always did whenever she got overly excited; pointing wildly at the stage, and it was only when he looked over he saw Corroded Coffins guitarist bouncing up and down next to Chrissy.

Instead of the black muscle vest and skinny jeans he'd been sporting earlier in the day, he had changed into pale blue board shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that read "Hey Steve!" written in black sharpie with a giant winking smiley face underneath that could only really be seen when he swung his guitar around his back to copy Chrissy's dance moves.

The song ended, and the friends hugged, Chrissy waving him off the stage and calling out, "Eddie Munson everybody!" letting the crowd go wild for her friend before launching into the rest of her set.

By the time Chrissy had actually left the stage, Robin looked exhausted, having screamed and sung and danced herself out. They hung around a bit, said goodbye to Kayla and Jess, wishing them a safe journey home, and they were just taking one last look at the now empty stage when he heard someone yell his name...

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase three: intermission.

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: jungkook hasn’t had any drinks so far, but he’s the rawest he’s ever been.

alternatively, jungkook has three separate conversations while he’s at the club.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

Yoongi always finds some way to piss Jungkook off.

Your husband isn’t sure if he’s just that easy to piss off or if Yoongi really is an extremely annoying person that gets on everyone’s nerves (his especially), but regardless, your friend always finds some way to set him to the edge.

Jungkook almost bended a fork with his teeth when you called out baby along with your subsequent request for him to pass the sauce, but even before he could reach for said container, Yoongi (who was sitting on the other end of the table) dashes over to your seat to give you sauce and piss him off in the process.

He almost grabbed Yoongi by the hair that one time when you were on your last shot on your film camera and you wanted to take a photo of them, but right at the last second of you taking it, Yoongi told him there was a cockroach by his feet which immediately made it look like Jungkook was bowing to him. He’s already ripped up the picture as soon as you got it developed, but the anger at the seemingly surface-level tricks he pulled on him always ate at him.

Jungkook only texted Yoongi awhile ago, and while he wasn’t expecting an immediate reply given the time difference, he almost wished the latter didn’t even respond in the first place. 

you’re hwayoung’s godfather

look after her while i’m gone

The two of them have been civil, maybe even friendly at best, since yours and Jungkook’s month-long break before Hwayoung came along; Jungkook doesn’t expect much from Yoongi except for the bare minimum — the problem is that Yoongi himself wants to go above and beyond.

i know that

i don’t need you to be gone for me to look after hwayoung lol

Jungkook huffs at the insinuation, brows immediately knitted as he tries to focus his eyes on his phone that seems to be the brightest source of light in the dimmed, packed club.

?

He can admit to himself (to you too, but never to anyone else especially Yoongi) that he can sometimes go overboard looking in between the lines. It’s this nagging feeling in Jungkook’s brain that he needs to analyze everything from all angles when it concerns you and the people who are fond of you. It’s this irritating quirk of his that he himself hates because he can’t be placated at the thought of something, someone, getting in between the two of you.

Especially if it’s Yoongi, even if he’s already sworn up and down that he’s moved on from you.

Most especially Yoongi, who’s close to his family in more ways than one, now that he’s left for the meantime.

i’ll take care of y/n too dw :)

Jungkook seethes at that, his thumbs already moving on their own accord to type out a reply he barely has the consciousness to discern. He can’t bring himself to read in between the lines now; now, when he’s apart from you and Hwayoung and there’s neither a husband nor father figure at home, and now, when everything dawns on him that everything that’s happening now is real.

go fuck yourself

Everything in and out of Jungkook’s reach is real. The fight you had two days ago was indeed real, and what reminds him of that is your messages that only detail about Hwayoung and nothing else. Yoongi being h*mself which is an annoyance within its own, is real and is proved by the laughing reaction that he only attached to Jungkook’s very genuine, very offensive profanity.

Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to entertain the possibility that Yoongi’s only messing with him as per usual. He doesn’t have the energy to detangle the complicated knots in his mind that all point to him being the reason for his own undoing.

The only energy that your husband has at the moment is to switch apps, regulate his breathing, and head straight to the live footage from the security camera in Hwayoung’s room. Jungkook feels sane again (maybe even the feeling greater than contentment, but not more than happiness) when he sees the two of you pop up on screen, your laughs immediately drowning out the blaring music.

“My pretty girls,” he mumbles under his breath, his thumb twitching to switch between apps again and finally have the courage to actually talk to you about what happened and not just fawn over how Hwayoung’s breezing through her milestones while he’s been gone.

He hasn’t had anything to drink yet, and while he’s relieved at that, there’s a sense of cowardice that creeps up in Jungkook’s throat. He feels pathetic and unsurprisingly, characteristically weak when it comes to you.

Your husband settles for pushing the button that makes the security camera ding, indicating that he’s indeed watching you and Hwayoung, before he screws his eyes shut in fear that you’ll only scowl at him through the screen.

You don’t.

Instead, you only smile lightly. You’re tired and you’re filled with pent-up sentiments because you can’t exactly gossip to Hwayoung how her dad has been frustrating you to no end lately, and yet, you still smile for him because she’s watching.

There’s a knot that forms in his throat when you prop Hwayoung in front of the camera and coo at her to wave because he’s watching. There’s this unmistakeable sting behind Jungkook’s eyes because he’s reminded yet again that everything’s real; that unlike him, you’re not weak. 

You’re filled with so much love as evidenced by the way you look at Hwayoung with no fear at all of messing everything up, and it makes Jungkook choke over nothing. You have your fears too, but not one of them comes close to the degree that his doubts are in — perhaps you do have a fear of losing everything just like he does, except the resounding difference is that you’re not a coward like him.

Namjoon’s jostled him atleast three times for the past ten minutes and he’ll succumb to his friend sooner or later, but not now when Jungkook rethinks every word he’s ever said and how he misspoke, not now when he’s made the mistake of even calling Eunsu as his muse when he can’t even grasp the weight of the word when he calls someone else that in front of his wife.

Jungkook’s still a coward, with or without a drink, but he’s in the latter state when he brings out his other phone to finally call you.

He sees you flinch silently through the security camera, gaze averting from a napping Hwayoung on your lap to your phone that’s ringing. You purse your lips in hesitation yet you don’t quiver, accepting his call but not without looking straight at the camera before you do.

You’re neither unattached nor resigned with Jungkook — you’re simply stuck in the middle with him, even if the demarcation about who gets the shorter end of the stick is unclear.

“I didn’t mean anything I said last night,” he admits straightly, sparing no time as his chest tightens.

“You sounded like it,” you frown, absent-mindedly stroking Miso’s fur who just conjured out of nowhere at the exact time your husband called you.

“At the time, yes,” he sighs heavily, the knot in his throat refusing to unravel even if he’s already baring his truth. “But at that time too, I was beyond stupid a-and emotional. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I know me being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse,” Jungkook swallows, his hand cupping the air instead of a shot glass reminding him of his stupidity. “I was out of it. I couldn’t keep everything in check.”

Your voice remains hushed, but you don’t have it in you to discern if it’s only because Hwayoung is sleeping on your lap, or if talking to Jungkook lately robs you of your will to be on the same level as him.

“You could’ve told me as soon as you felt… that way, Jungkook.”

He sucks in a breath, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries not to cry rethinking about your fight. “I did try to, but as soon as you did, you asked me if taking care of Hwayoung felt like a chore to me.”

“Does it?” you ask again, ironically coinciding with Jungkook’s point that it makes him chuckle lightly. You were always so stubborn — almost always similar to his temperament.

“I respect you a lot, Y/N. You put a roof over over our heads, you put food on the table, you have everything figured out.”

“Jungkook,” you mumble, sensing the inevitable conjunction that separates the both of you further.

“But I’m the one who knows what I’m feeling the most, not you,” Jungkook sighs shakily, voice hushed even quieter than the way you look at him silently through the screen. 

He can see you, but you can’t see him. 

“We’re both parents to Hwayoung at the end of the day but in that— in that same day, you spend more time being the working parent while I’m the stay-at-home parent,” he confides, his tone gentle and slow unlike the way his drunken nature persuaded him otherwise. “Taking care of Young-ie isn’t a chore for me. Yes, it’s repetitive. I-it could be exhausting and draining but that’s what it comes with being a dad. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s with her. I’m bound to feel this way,” he pauses, breath hitching. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right away for all the shit I said. I’ve been unfair springing all of this on you on such short notice.”

You look straight at the camera, bottom lip quivering as you wrap your head around Jungkook’s sober vulnerability.

“I’ve been unfair too,” you mutter, eyes downcast because even if you can’t see Jungkook, there’s a false image of him that floats in your mind, belittling you for not being enough. “I didn’t see it from your point of view.”

There’s only silence between the two of you, the noise of the club being expertly drowned out even through the distortion of the line.

“You can forgive me tomorrow or next week, even— but the sooner the better, of course,” Jungkook chides playfully after a few seconds, smiling to himself when he visibly sees the tension melt away from your shoulders.

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance, baby. Give me a little leeway,” Jungkook pleads, in between light chuckles and strained desperation that an honest, sober husband like him could give to you while you’re long-distance. “Give me a little time to figure out a balance. I-I can’t be the best husband and dad that I want— need to be if I can’t figure myself out.”

“I get it,” you nod, your thumb unconsciously adjusting the wedding on your ring finger that’s become slightly askew. “But you promise me that you’ll come home, Jungkook,”

“I promise.”

“You have to promise me too that there’s no one else.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook tuts warningly, his confused frown at you being genuine in nature as if you could see him in real time trying to digest your paranoia. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Promise me,” you repeat again with a short-lived whine, the stirring of Hwayoung on your lap making his heart soften and your call interrupted.

“I promise.”

Jungkook relaxes into his seat, eyes still fixed on the security app on his phone as he watches you rock his daughter to sleep, pointing to the camera every now and then to tell her that her appa’s watching. 

Namjoon and Eunsu come over with drinks, and as much as there’s a momentary wave of relief that washes over Jungkook because he’s seeing familiar people, there’s a dubiously-coated type of tension that replaces the knot on his throat.

“Ah, my pretty producer,” Eunsu hands him his drink, looking past the platinum wedding band that Jungkook hadn’t dared to take off even once the whole trip, along with his phone that displays his family in full brightness. “I believe we haven’t met properly.”

[shhhsecretsideblog]

For the birth denial asks, what about going to a play or performance and you're in labor the whole time, but you're sucking it up because it's your partners birthday and they really wanted to see it, but your water breaks/ you feel the urge to push just after the last intermission ends

Anon!!!! You beautiful person! This is my fav thing ever and I swear I’ve submitted this exact request to other birth fic writers on here before I started doing my own. So so happy to have gotten this ask. Thank you!!!!

Theatre Birth

We had booked the tickets a year ago; it was a limited run at our local theatre, guest starring our favourite actress, and it just happened to coincide with your birthday. We simply had to get tickets to see this play. So I offered to buy the tickets and we could make a celebratory night of it.

But then I got pregnant.

We completely forgot about the show with all the excitement of the pregnancy, until about two weeks beforehand when we received the tickets in the post. It was awfully close to my due date. You offered to cancel the tickets, or see if we could resell them, but we were both still desperately excited to see this limited performance while we could. I assured you I still wanted to go, it was your birthday treat and we would be fine. First babies are never early.

I didn’t tell you about the braxton hicks contractions that plagued me the day before, or the fact I’d lost my mucus plug that morning. You were too excited; it was your birthday, you had a baby on the way and you would be seeing your favourite actress that evening. I couldn’t spoil your joy, especially not for false and practice labour pains. I just had to ride them out and let you enjoy your day. I’d tell you tomorrow.

I’d managed to hide the grimaces of pain throughout the day, but when we got to the theatre the cramps were coming at such regular intervals I was forced to consider this might actually be the real thing. But we were here now and labour took hours before there would be any need to go to the hospital, so I didn’t say anything. You pulled my arm eagerly through the theatre, excitement sparkling in your eyes for this evening’s performance. Holding my heavy bump, I plastered on my best smile and waddled behind you to find the row with our seats.

The old theatre seats were upholstered in a rough red velvet that itched the backs on my legs and the size of the seats were not designed with pregnant people in mind. Needless to say I was far from comfortable. You flicked through the programme and opened your box of sweets, in a world of your own as we waited for the show to start. I shifted in my seat and rubbed the ache in my lower belly, my bump spread over the tops of my legs because the seat was too narrow to allow it to fully sit between my thighs as it usually did. Another contraction struck and I hissed through my teeth but at the same time the music started abruptly so my flinch was left unnoticed.

I’d thought seeing the play would be a great distraction from the aches and twinges, but as the waves of pain crashed with more and more intensity I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening on stage. The seat was agonisingly uncomfortable, I was sweating in my outfit, and I was regretting all my choices that had led me here. After a long hour and a half Act One eventually finished. You helped me up out of the low chair so I could make a quick dash to the toilet, with the baby so big and so active I was surprised I’d lasted the duration of the first act.

There was a long line for ladies, standard in the small theatre, but as I felt the telltale cramping of the next contraction I pulled the pregnancy card and skipped ahead of the queue. I just felt so full; my belly was tight, the baby was low, and there was so much pressure. I panted silently through the contraction as I sat on the toilet and just as it was coming to an end I felt something give and a splash echoed from the porcelain.

Oh my god, that was my waters… I thought to myself.

I sat there, a little in shock, breathing slowly to calm myself. It's okay. I’ll just clean myself up, head back to our seats to tell you, and then we could make a quick and subtle exit before the play resumed. By the time I had exited the bathroom and awkwardly shuffled along the row to get back to our seats the lights in the theatre were already starting to dim - the next Act was beginning. You offered a hand to help me get back into the chair and I don’t know why but I took it and sat back down on the itchy seat. The music started before I could tell you my waters had just broken, with everyone around us back in their assigned seats all sitting in the dark and facing the bright lights of the stage. Now completely stuck in the middle of a row I couldn’t bring myself to tell you - we couldn’t get leave now, it would mean asking about 15 people to move in order to allow my heavy and labouring body to exit the row and attracting all manner of unwanted attention. Rubbing my contracting belly, I took a deep breath. I just had to get through act two and then you and I could head straight for the hospital after the play. Everything would be fine.

~•~

It was not fine.

Without the cushioning of my waters the baby’s head was rammed against my dilating cervix. The contractions were hitting me every few minutes and I was surprised I hadn’t yet cried out from the pain. I tried to do little things to ease the pain, shifting in my seat or rubbing my belly, but the movement seemed to attract the annoyed glances from people around us. If I just stayed still and breathed through the pain, I was sure I could make it through. Occasionally you’d glance at me, checking I was enjoying the show, and I tried my best to smile through my gritted teeth.

But everything changed when the need to push presented itself. I pulled a sudden sharp gasp and my eyes widened with panic. You softly turned to look at me and your face fell at seeing the pained and panicked expression on mine.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You whispered in my ear.

“Hooo- nothing…” I breathed quietly, ignoring all my body’s cues that I might need to start pushing.

You placed a hand on my bump and felt the solid and tense surface beneath your fingers. “Are you having contractions?”

“I’m fine… hoooo… just- hold my hand.” I said, determined not to make a scene or attract attention.

Grabbing your hand I turned back to the stage, signalling you to do the same. I could do this, it wouldn’t be much longer and then we can leave quietly. Just breathe and don’t push, I told myself.

I managed to make it through half a dozen more contractions, breathing steadily and squeezing your hand whenever they hit. I could see in my peripheral vision your head turning anxiously towards me whenever I gripped your hand tight. The play felt like it was dragging on and on and on. Surely it had to end soon. The next contraction began to seize, I took a deep breath and released it slowly through the pain but the pressure was quickly building to astronomical heights. I was biting my lips to stop myself making any noise but the occasional whimper slipped through. Without control or permission I felt my body suddenly push. My fingers curled around your hand, my nails digging deep into your skin as I beared down.

Your head snapped towards me and saw my face scrunched and my chin on my chest.

“Oh my god are you pushing?!?!” You stuttered.

I could only gulp a breath as my body pushed again. The baby was right there and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My legs parted instinctively as I slumped in the chair and lifted my knees. I could feel my lips start to open, forced apart as the head pushed its way out. And yet I remained silent, with only the occasional muted grunt sounding from my throat from a baby that was desperate to be born.

“Stop… y-you can’t be pushing. You’re not in labour… are you?” You were frazzled, unsure what to do. The performers were still on stage, the show continuing, unaware of the new life that was soon to enter the world.

I let go of your hand and scrambled to pull the fabric of my dress up. Diving beneath the clothing I put a hand between my thighs and I felt through my underwear the large round shape of the baby’s head poking out. “Fuck….” I gritted under my breath.

Unable to fully speak or explain, I just grabbed your hand and placed it on the partially crowned head. “Baby’s-coming…mnghhhhhh….” I grunted and succumbed to another push, bearing down uncontrollably with a primal need to birth right here right now.

People around us were starting to notice, but I could pay them no mind. The baby slipped further and further out with every push, filling your hand that had remained between my legs. The full crown was reached in a matter of agonising seconds and then with a sudden loud grunt the head popped out.

It was only then I became aware of the silence and the fact the people on stage had halted their performance and were staring.

[dwntwn-strnlo]

jackass. [m.st.]

── ⟡˙ ̟ hockey!matthew sturniolo x gn!reader

↳ synopsis. — matt gets into a fight while on the ice

↳ a/n. — getting all my female rage out in this fic bc of ex pookie

↳ requested? — no

↳ cw. — really long, tuff guy matt, profanity, physical fighting, mentions of blood/scarring, slight angst, "y/n" used, verbal argument, un resolved ending (sorry lily 🫶)

"you can't expect to get everything you want, y/n."

"all i expect is for you to not be a fucking jackass."

running your hand through your hair, you began growing nervous. you can see that matt was growing more and more agitated the longer he was on the ice, and luckily chris had caught on enough to the point where he kept looking at you curiously.

once you got a text from nick, whom was currently in the locker room had he just gotten off the ice, you knew you and chris weren't going crazy simultaneously. he had asked you if you knew what was up, and that matt had supposedly been perfectly fine before the game.

watching matt carefully as he runs across the ice, he steals the puck and heads for the goal. finally relaxing, you stand up along with the rest of the crowd, fueling on excitement for your boyfriend.

as he nears an appropriate spot to shoot, his feet get kicked out from under him. luckily he catches himself, but he lost the puck. his eyes grow wide when he finds the kid on the opposing team who illegally knocked matt over, taking the puck back.

you started to panic as matt started to panic. it looked as if his mind was racing and then flatlined in the matter of a second. not processing it as he skates up to the kid in red, body checking him to the ice.

it takes seconds for matt to land on top of him, punching him in the nose and dripping blood onto the ice. he's only able to land one punch before chris is pulling him back up to his feet. it takes everything in matt not to push off his brother in fear that he'd get dragged into the fight.

chris drags matt back several feet, trying to get him to cool off. but the kid with the last name miraz stitched on the back comes flying forward, blood dripping down his nose and rage painted on his face.

he throws a punch to matts cheek, cutting it quick enough to hit him again in the nose before the ref pulls him back.

"matthew sturniolo, 5 minute penalty for fighting." the ref calls out over the speakers. "cameron miraz, 5 minute penalty for fighting. 2 more for instigating."

"fuck." you whispered to yourself. not sure whether or not you should be pissed or concerned. eyeing the clock, you find that intermission is in a short time, so you believe that'll be your nearest chance to talk to matt.

matt skates over to the penalty box, face still hot in anger. he pulls his helmet off and drops his head back before looking ahead again. finding chris pointing his pointer finger at him, clearly annoyed, but still washed with concern for his brother. you can't distinguish what words hes using to scold matt, but you can tell it pisses him off.

you can't seem to keep your eyes on the ice for the rest of the period, your eyes stuck on the coffee-haired boy with his arms crossed over his chest.

soon enough he's let back out on the ice, though there's only a minute and a half left. you can tell his body is less frustrated, but it doesn't shake the fact that he just hit someone.

as the clock hits its final seconds, you stand up, walking down to the locker rooms to wait impatiently for you boyfriend to enter.

as the buzzer sounds, the team starts flooding in heading off into the locker room for intermission. looking seemingly defeated by the currently tied game. this game could go either way, and that's leaving them on edge.

matt's one of the last people off the ice, following closely behind chris in silence. chris meets your eyes with a shrug before disappearing into the locker room.

you're quick to grab matt, pulling him towards you-carefully as he still has his blades on.

there's still dried, as well as slightly fresh blood on his face from where he was hit in the nose and on his cheekbone. you figured that one would scar if he didn't get it taken care of soon. his emotions looked mix, leaving you struggling to figure out what he's thinking.

"matt." your murmured, trying to get his light blue eyes to meet yours. "hey, look at me." your voice was low and demanding, but you couldn't help but let it stay laced with panic.

his eyes slowly meet yours, his lips pressed in a firm line. he doesn't want to talk, and normally you'd respect that but right now you're worried and pissed and just want to make sure that he's okay.

"what's your problem?" you bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

matt looked taken back, astonished even that you came at him like that. "what are you talking about." he furrowed his brows, eyes finally glued on yours.

"baby this is your third fight this season, they're going to fucking suspend you." you sounded harsh, but you felt as if it was necessary in the moment to try and knock some sense into him.

he crossed his arms too, mirroring your image. "why do you care if i get suspended? that's not going to effect you."

letting out a breath of air, you squeezed your eyes shut for several seconds. "because you're my boyfriend, and i love and care about you." you mumbled, "i know that getting suspended would effect you, and i don't want to see you in a position like that."

"you can't expect to get everything you want, y/n." he whispered, his voice dropping significantly. struggling to find a place in his heart to argue with you about this.

"all i expect is for you to not be a fucking jackass." you snapped.

matt's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing. trying to find the right words to say. he suddenly felt small under your hot gaze, though he was significantly larger in his hockey equipment.

pressing your lips together in a line, you started to feel bad, but you still had a point to get across. "i don't know what happened today, but you're at the point where you need to learn to walk away and be the bigger person." you said, trying to meet his eyes again, which now dart around the hall. looking everywhere but you.

"he fucking tripped me." he mumbled, looking at your for a single second.

"so?" you queried. "you play hockey for gods sake. you get tripped all the time."

he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a breath of air before looking at you again. "i'm not gonna stand here and listen to you beat down on me." he said, his voice wary. "if you don't wrap it up i'm going back and we can talk about this later." he hushed, gesturing to the locker room.

staying silent, you try thinking about what to say. clearly he doesn't want to listen to you right now, and you want to respect that. you stare at him intently, eyes drifting down to the still slightly bleeding gash on his cheek.

"get that cleaned up, and good luck with the rest of the game." you mumbled, waiting for a response before you walk off.

matt nods, and you step away, nearing the corner when he speaks up. "i love you, baby." he says.

"i love you too..." you turn your head to look at him, mumbling the same words back before disappearing around the corner.

TAGLIST

@thetriplets3 @stxrniqlo @ifilwtmfc @iha8you @oneirophobic @20nugs @gracietaylorsversions @fenoy7 @mlimmm @prettysturniolo @ssturniolo @gabbylovesreading @oh-toseewithoutmy-eyes @matthewmurdockswife @jellybeanbby @slaysturniolo @iheartshifting @mxqdii @luvsturniolo @lvrsparadise @partoftoofuckinmanyfandoms

[puckinghischier]

Shadow Puppets

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader is terrified of storms, but Nico makes sure she never has to brave them alone

notes: hi!! long time no see! this is a little self indulgent, not gonna lie. i started this last week when some pretty gnarly storms were coming through my town and i struggled finishing it because, surprise, i was scared 🫣. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

~

Storms have never been something that you enjoyed. You don’t understand the appeal of the angry rumbles and blinding flashes that litter the sky during a thunderstorm.

Ever since you were a little girl storms have been high on your fear list. Anytime you saw the purplish-gray of the sky, you were doing everything in your power to drown out the incoming storm.

Much like you were right now. You had just turned a movie on in the living room, volume high enough that you worried your upstairs neighbors could hear. Every curtain in the apartment was drawn closed, preventing you from seeing any flash of lightning that would dance across the dark sky.

Your last line of defense was usually white noise being played through a speaker on low volume to further try and drown out the rumbles that are starting to sound closer by the second. Well, it will be your last line of defense, if you could just find the wireless speaker.

It wasn’t in its normal spot in the kitchen junk drawer, nor was it in the bathroom. It wasn’t in your boyfriend’s practice bag, knowing he sometimes takes it to the rink with him when he hits the gym after a morning skate.

You had looked in both your bedroom and the spare room, the guest bathroom, the hallway closet, the various shelves around the living room, in-between the couch cushions, and you had even braved stepping out onto your small balcony to search for it before rushing back inside after a particularly bright flash of lightning.

It was nowhere to be found.

While you were on all fours on the floor trying to see if it had somehow rolled under the couch, you heard the familiar chime of your ringtone coming from the table behind you, startling you a bit.

Seeing your boyfriend’s name flash on the screen, you pick up the phone immediately, speaking a small hello into the device just as an especially loud crack of thunder rings out.

“Hey, Schatz. You okay? Just heard the storm outside, knew you were home alone and wanted to check on you during intermission. Got all of your safety nets in place?” Nico’s worried voice hurries out, slightly out of breath.

The Devils were hosting a charity scrimmage tonight, the proceeds going to a local youth hockey program. Nico had offered for you to come and watch, but you had been wanting to catch up on the reality shows he always complained about watching with you. When he left a few hours earlier, the sky was blue and there were no clouds to be seen.

You didn’t regret your decision until thirty minutes ago when your phone started blaring an alarm with a severe storm warning alert.

“Yeah, I’m okay for right now. Have a movie on and the curtains are closed. I can’t find the speaker, though. Do you remember where you last saw it?” you ask him, placing the phone on speaker so you can continue to search.

“Oh Schatz, I’m so sorry,” Nico starts, regret joining the worry in his tone. “I have the speaker with me. Put it in my game bag this morning. Went and got a few reps in the gym in before warm-ups today. I didn’t look at the forecast before I left, I didn’t know you’d need it.”

Your stomach drops at his confession, your anxiety spiking. You needed the speaker in order to fully drown out the thunder. It was something you and your mom had come up with when you were a kid to help you sleep if it was storming at night. You hadn’t tried to get through a storm without the technique since.

“It’s…it’s okay, Neeks. Really. I’ll be fine,” you start, trying to hide the anxious quiver of your voice. “It’s just a little-“ your sentence gets interrupted by a boom of thunder so loud you could feel the vibrations from the floor you were currently kneeled on.

Nico’s guilt only increases at the yelp you let out, his heart breaking further when he hears the whimper you tried to hide afterwards.

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay? I can try to see if Nicole can come over for a bit? Jesper said she stayed home, too. Or I can send someone to come get you and bring you here if you want?” he offers, hating the fact you’re in the apartment alone.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll probably be over by then, anyways, right?” you ask, needing the reassurance that it was only a short storm.

“Yeah, baby, I’m sure it’s almost over. Just turn the tv up and grab your weighted blanket. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out, another low rumble coming from the world outside.

“I love you, okay? I’ll call again to check on you next intermission. Be home before you know it, Schatz.”

“Love you too, Neeks. Play safe,” you tell him before hanging up the phone.

You take his advice and find the weighted blanket he bought you last year after a particularly nasty storm had come through when he was away on a roadie.

He read online that the pressure could help comfort people during anxiety inducing moments, so he had one delivered to your shared apartment the next day. You were extremely thankful for it, especially in moments like this, but nothing can replace having Nico here with you to comfort you during an especially rough storm.

You were trying really hard to focus on the movie, having raised the volume even more to supplement the loss of the noise from the speaker, but the noises from the storm outside only got louder and louder.

You could hear the wind whipping around the tall building you were in, adding a whole new layer to your current distress. Checking your phone constantly, you knew it was still only a severe storm, no further warnings had been issued, but you were starting to get worried the bad weather was here to stay.

Resorting to laying on the couch with eyes closed and hands over your ears to muffle the sounds, your fear had reached its peak. You felt embarrassed, wondering why you couldn’t just find comfort in the harsh weather like a normal person. Instead, you were laying on your couch in a fetal position with your hands covering your ears as a grown woman.

Another intense crack infiltrated your apartment, causing your shaking body to jump, eyes snapping open. Just as you were able to calm your racing heart, you were suddenly covered in darkness.

It felt like someone had just dumped ice water all over your body, every nerve alert with fear. You sat completely still, waiting for the warm lights to flicker back on.

The longer you sat waiting, the worse you felt.

There was no way you could survive this storm with no power. There was nothing to block out the wind and thunder. There was nothing to lessen the bright flashes of light through the curtains. You were so paralyzed by fear you couldn’t even make the short trek to the kitchen to grab a flashlight or light the various candles littered throughout the apartment.

While debating with yourself about if you were going to be brave enough to get up off the couch and walk through the dark apartment, you heard the lock on your front door unlock with a click.

Every movement in your body stopped, including the rise and fall of your chest. You held your breath and sat as still as you could, more petrified with fear than you had ever been before.

Who was coming into your apartment in the middle of a storm like this? The only other people with keys were Nico and your landlord. One of those people was in the middle of a hockey game twenty minutes away.

A new wave of fear washed over you. What if it was your landlord coming in because he had to evacuate the building? Was the storm that bad? It sounded that bad, but you were always a terrible judge at what classified a storm as bad.

Any storm was bad to you. The slightest rumble of thunder had you wanting to dive under the nearest table like a child.

The door creaked open, squeaky footsteps making their way into your apartment. You continued to lay there, unmoving.

“Schatz? You in here?” you heard a familiar accent call out, all tension in your body disappearing at the sound.

Your body springs up into a sitting position, turning your head to look behind the couch, the sight in front of you almost causing relieved tears to well in your eyes.

Nico stood by the closed door, hanging his dripping jacket on one of the many hooks on the wall in front of him. His soaking wet hair was adding to the puddle on the floor left by his jacket.

He was wearing a pair of athletic shorts and one of his Devils hoodies, the latter only slightly drier than the jacket he had just removed.

He shook out his hair, making you bite back a giggle at how he resembled a dog shaking out its fur, before looking up and seeing your alert eyes peeking over the couch at him.

“Oh, Schatz, are you okay?” he sighed as he made his way over to you.

His socks audibly squished as he rounded the end of the couch, coming to crouch before you.

He took your hands in his own, making you flinch at how cold they were.

Bringing his lips down to blow onto your intertwined hands, he mumbles out a “M’sorry, I wasn’t here, pretty girl.”

You meet his eyes through his wet eyelashes, admiring how pretty he looks right now, brain still catching up to the fact he’s here.

Staring at him while he warms his hands with your own, you remember that he was supposed to still be at the charity game right now, having only called you at the beginning of the first intermission not even thirty minutes ago.

As soon as you open your mouth to question him, you were reminded of the reason for your current state.

A blinding flash of light illuminates the dark apartment, thunder rumbling almost immediately after.

Slamming your eyes shut to try to block the sight, you try to move your hands to your ears once again, but they’re still clutched between both of Nico’s.

You feel the couch next to you sink underneath his body weight, his arms moving to come around your shoulders as he hugs your body into his.

His hand moves up and down your arm in a soothing motion, a small “shhh” coming out of his mouth as his lips rest against your temple.

“You’re safe, darling. You’re alright. I’m here,” he says softly on repeat, working you through the moment of panic.

You allow your body to sink into his, reveling in the comfort that his presence brings you.

“That’s it, just relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright?”

After several minutes of relishing Nico’s presence, you finally lean back and put a small amount of distance between the two of you.

He moves his hands to smooth down your hair and cup your face, tilting your head up so he can look into your eyes and make sure you’re okay.

As you give him a small smile, he leans forward and places a kiss first on the tip of your nose and then moves his lips up to rest on your forehead.

He pulls back, leaving your face trapped in-between his hands, speaking softly.

“Power went out, didn’t it, Schatz?”

You simply nodded, finding it hard to speak with your cheeks squished.

He starts rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your cheeks, “Scared you when it went out, huh? That why you look so startled when I came in?”

You nodded again, starting to feel a little silly with the chipmunk cheeks he’s caused you to have.

“Well, let’s go fix that, shall we?” Nico finally removes his hands from your face, standing up and reaching his hand out to help you stand from the couch.

He leads you into the kitchen, stopping at the drawer that holds a lighter and flashlights for occasions like this one. He grabs two flashlights out of the drawer, turning one on and handing it to you.

Taking his own flashlight, he turns it on and immediately places it directly under his chin, pulling a face in the shadow of the light coming from the plastic.

His actions cause you to giggle, rolling your eyes at how childish your big, ‘scary’ hockey player can be.

“There she is. Knew I could get that cute little laugh out of you,” he beams, proud of his success.

He grabs the lighter and takes your hand once again, leading you around to every candle you have placed around the apartment. You hold the flashlights as he lights each candle until every last one is lit and the apartment is bathed in golden light once again.

The two of you end up back on the couch sharing your weighted blanket as Nico becomes your buffer to the storm outside. You sit with your head resting against his chest for a little while before you remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be here right now.

You raise your head up and sit back, situating yourself so you’re halfway facing him while still being tucked into his side.

“You’re not supposed to be here right now.”

Nico moves his head back and looks at you like you’re crazy.

“What?” he says through a chuckle, amused at how random you words were.

“I mean, you’re supposed to be at the charity game right now. You called me during the first intermission, you should be playing in the third period by now,” you explain your outburst.

Nico laughs, shaking his head. “For a second I got worried you were about to kick me out, Schatz.”

“Nico, I’m being serious,” you roll your eyes. “Why did you leave the game early? Is everything okay at the rink? Did the storm damage something?”

Nico looks over at you, a fond smile on his face.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” is all he says in response, bringing a finger up to stroke from your temple down to your chin.

You move your head away from his hand and scoff, annoyed at his avoidance.

“Nico…” you warn.

He sighs, knowing you’re not going to be happy with his answer.

“I left early.”

“You…left early?” you parrot his words back to him, unimpressed.

“Yes, I left early. I told them there was an emergency here and I needed to get home to you, so I left,” he explains, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “It was just a charity game, anyways. We were playing against our own guys, not like it was anything they couldn’t do without me.”

You fully remove yourself from him and sit back on your heels. He frowns at the loss of contact as he readjusts himself to sit up straighter.

“Nico, you can’t just leave a game like that!” you scold him. “Think about how excited those kids were to see you play tonight. The fact that it was a charity game should have made it even more important.”

You cross your arms, glaring at him for how bad this could make him look.

“Y/N, you were here, alone, during a raging storm. When I called, I could feel how scared you were through the phone. I knew as soon as the lights flickered at the arena, I couldn’t leave you here by yourself,” he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You argued anyways.

“Nico, think about how bad this could make you look. ‘Devils captain leaves charity game early because his girlfriend is a scaredy-cat and can’t stay by herself during a silly little thunderstorm’” you put on your best sportscaster voice for the last sentence.

It was Nico’s turn to roll his eyes at you, shaking his head at your words.

“First of all, don’t count on a job with ESPN anytime soon,” you swat at his chest. “Second of all, I appreciate your concern about my image and my job, but I don’t care.”

“You should! You should care, Nico. You’re the captain. You need to care more than anyone else,” you cry out at him.

Nico grabs your hands in midair as you wave them around to emphasize your words.

“Schatz, I. Don’t. Care.” He pauses, trying to let the words sink in. “You know why I don’t care? Because you will always come first, do you hear me?”

Your mouth snaps shut, the intensity of the way he’s looking at you making you still.

“My job is just a game. It will always be just a game. A game that I’m thankful that I get to play every day, don’t get me wrong, but at the end of every day, it’s just a game.” He pauses again, making sure you understand him.

You don’t even flinch at the thunder that rings out around you, too caught up in the moment that’s happening between you and Nico right now.

“You, my pretty girl, are not a game. You’re the absolute best thing that has ever, and will ever, happen to me. You’re the biggest priority in my life, not hockey. I could quit hockey tomorrow and be just fine as long as I still have you to come home to every day. You’re the one thing I can’t lose. So yeah, I don’t care if I’m missing a scrimmage right now. They don’t need me. You did. So, here I am, exactly where I’m ‘supposed to be’” he mocks your earlier statement.

By the end of his speech you have tears in your eyes, not because of the storm this time.

You smile at him, an emotional tear slipping down your cheek, Nico’s hand reach out to wipe it away before you could wiggle one of your own from his hold.

“I love you, you know that?” you tell him, leaning your cheek into his open palm. “But you’re still stupid for leaving the game early,” you add at the end.

“Love you more, Schatz. Always.” He responds with a slight chuckle, ignoring the second part of what you said, bringing your face to his.

Your lips meet in a sweet, loving kiss. You rest your foreheads against one another before Nico pulls back, dropping his hand from your face.

“Now, I do believe we have some powerless entertainment to partake in,” he tells you, wiggling his eyebrows at your suggestively.

You lean in towards him once again, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh…Yeah” he leans back in, his hot breath fanning on your face with his words.

You catch his arm moving out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to remove your gaze from his face to find out what he was doing.

The staring contest the two of you had going on was starting to make you squirm when you hear a click ring out from in-between your bodies, light erupting through what little space is there.

You look down to see one of the flashlights from earlier in his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. Looking back up, you give him a confused look.

“It’s time for shadow puppets!” he excitedly bursts, moving the flashlight to shine on the wall, holding up his pointer and middle fingers to make a shadow bunny on the wall.

You burst out into belly laughs, body falling over his, head landing in his lap.

“C’mon, now, get up, its your turn,” he sits you up, handing you the flashlight.

As you look over at Nico, an expectant look on his face, you suddenly don’t care if it storms all night and the power never comes back on. As long as Nico’s with you, nothing could ruin the happiness running through your veins in this moment.

[star-hoon]

VERSION OF ME — (p. sunghoon)

"CAN YOU LOVE THE VERSION OF ME, I DON'T LET ANYBODY ELSE SEE?"

— MASTERLIST

pairing: sunghoon x fem reader (oneshot)

includes/warnings (16+):  comfort/healing from dark past! au — fluff, angst, profanity, comfort, implied reader has scars, mentions of food/eating  (let me know if i missed anything!)

word count: 1.8k [not proofread]

synopsis: you and sunghoon have been dating for a few months now and he is the definition of your prince charming. but you are finally forced to uncover what you've been hiding from him, and it makes you fear you’ll lose him.

DISCLAIMER: this fic does mention/imply reader has SH scars. it is mentioned without detail and sunghoon is comforting reader about them. *as someone who used to SH, i would never ever mean to trigger anyone. so if this could potentially trigger you, do not read/please proceed with caution.*

author’s note: omg thank you to everyone who read my 'obsessed' & 'intermission' AND for over 110 followers!

i hope you're all okay with this fic idea even its a little on the darker side. but i promise its fluffy n hoon is a sweetie. this one is dedicated to all of you out there who have overcome hardships in the past or dealing with hardships right now, with physical or mental scars. you are so strong, beautiful, and loved!! <3

VERSION OF ME SOUNDTRACK

it was yet the end of another long and arduous day at work. you dragged your feet into the doorway of your apartment, hanging up your bag on the hook in the entry way and removing your shoes that you could feel were forming blisters on your heels.

sighing, you make a beeline to your bedroom. nothing sounded better than a hot shower to change into some comfy clothes. well, maybe one thing sounded better.

cuddling with your boyfriend sunghoon. and his deep voice and hearty laugh. and his silly puns and dad jokes. and him getting so excited talking about film cameras. just—him.

you had never been one to be very clingy nor dependent with your boyfriends. you just valued your own time and pursuing your own goals, but that doesn't mean you care about them any less.

that's why when you and sunghoon started dating 4 months ago, you felt something click in that regard. he fully understood your introverted ways and wouldn't be like the previous guys and complain about feeling 'neglected' or that you were too cold because he knew exactly how it felt to need alone time/your own space and he respected it.

but even still, when you are together he treats you like an absolute princess. carrying your purse for you when you go shopping, opening the car door for you, standing on the side of the sidewalk that faces the street. he also emotionally cared for you, listening to you rant about things big and small and always reassuring you the day before you have a big presentation at work. you felt so deeply cared for and understood, it made your affection for him blossom even more every day.

today was a day that both you and sunghoon had busy schedules so you weren't going to see each other. but you missed him and wanted nothing more than his comforting presence to fill your currently empty apartment.

you made your way to the bathroom, removing your uncomfortable work clothes. as you stood there uncovered you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. you stared down at your arms, the dark marks that littered your skin. you knew you couldn't hide this from him forever.

before you could let any more negative thoughts consume you, you hopped into the shower hoping the hot water can wash away your stress and worries.

after your shower that probably lasted a little too long in some water that was probably a little too hot, you heard a knock at your front door. you peeked to the corner of your phone amidst the tik tok scrolling 10:38 pm.

considering how late it was you were suspicious so you tiptoed to the front door, glancing through the peep hole. it was sunghoon. even though you should feel giddy and excited at the sight of your boyfriend, a twinge of panic arose. you were just wearing a tshirt so your arms were fully exposed, not expecting company. you ran and grabbed the first hoodie you could find. it happened to be one of his.

you opened the front door and there sunghoon stood as handsome as ever, with a bouquet of flowers and a takeout bag. you pouted at the sight in front of you—you were the luckiest girl alive. this was exactly what you needed after a day like today.

"hi hoonie" you softly greeted him, gently hugging him and he leaned down to give you a peck on the cheek. "...what's all this?"

he spoke as he took off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen. "sorry for dropping by so suddenly, i knew weren't planning on seeing each other today but i knew you had a long day and you were gonna be home late so i thought you would want some food. it's your favorite from the restaurant downtown." you nearly started crying, how could be so sweet?

"don't be sorry. thank you, you are seriously the best hoon i missed you a lot today."

"i missed you too. just sit and relax baby, i'll plate everything up for you" sunghoon always insisted on plating food even if it was takeout. he believed it made it taste better, the notion always made you laugh.

despite offering to split the meal with him, he insisted he didn't want any saying he ate dinner earlier. but as you two sat at the dining table chatting about your day, you fed him forkful after forkful anyways.

after finishing the meal you convinced sunghoon to let you wash the dishes. he eventually complied, standing next to you at the sink drying the 3 total dishes you had to wash.

no matter how small the gesture sunghoon was willing to do anything and everything to make it easier for you. you were convinced he came straight out of a fairytale—but your fantasy was going to come crashing down.

"y/n...why do you never roll up your sleeves when you wash the dishes? they're gonna get all wet!" his tone playful.

"i-its fine hoon, these are just a few dishes anyways" you try force a small laugh as a chill runs down your spine.

"come on sweetheart lemme roll 'em up for you..."

"i said it fine-"

his hand reaches towards your sleeves, pulling them up your arm slightly. you reflexively move away from him, your mind went into overdrive.

"SUNGHOON STOP! I SAID IT'S FINE!" your arm harshly shoved his body away from yours, the glass you were holding flying out of your hand. the sound of the glass shattering on the kitchen floor seemed to echo in the room.

silence fell between you two. your eyes wide and brimming with tears, your chest heaving from your heavy breathing. all you could was cup your hands over your mouth, your eyes looking at the broken glass a few feet away from you and then to your boyfriend. his expression made you sick. he has never looked at you this way. you couldn't tell if he was scared, angry, sad. it didn't matter.

"hoon i-i'm so so sorry, i didn't mean to push you. fu-fuck the glass i'm sorry i'll clean it up" large streams of tears flowed down your cheeks and you managed to get the sentence out in between sobs.

you felt yourself spiraling. you dropped to your knees and crawled towards the broken glass. the sight of the the pieces blurry from your tears and you picked up the pieces with your hands and putting the shards in your palm.

sunghoon was more confused than angry at you, it all happened so fast he barely had time to react. but seeing you pick up the shards of glass with your bare hands snapped him back to reality. he dropped down in front of you on the floor.

"baby stop! what're you doing?! you'll hurt yourself" his voiced laced with concern. he put a hand on your arm and cupped the side of your face with his other hand, wiping the tears away with him thumbs.

you couldn't stop the tears from escaping you. you couldn't believe what you just did. sunghoon was just trying to do a sweet, innocent gesture for you and in the end you hurt him. you didn't deserve him. you knew you couldn't hide it from him forever but you didn't think it would all end like this.

he leaned his forehead to yours, searching to meet your eyes. you just couldn't look at him.

"please y/n, what's going on?" his eyes wide and he pleaded for an answer. catching your breath after what felt like countless sobs, you gently placed the shards back on the floor.

"i need to tell you something hoon."

you followed sunghoon's order to meet in your room as he swept up the broken glass. you sat on your bed as you prepared how you were going to explain all of this.

you didn't want to lose him. he was the best thing that has ever happened to you. all you could imagine was his mortified or disgusted face when he sees your arms. the thought made all your tears resurface. sunghoon sat down next to you on your bed.

"i'm sorry for pushing you hoon. i shouldn't have done that." you took a deep breath before continuing.

"i-i've been hiding something from you since we met. i knew i couldn't h-hide it forever, but i never knew how or when to tell you." you didn't know what else to say to explain. you silently pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie you were wearing.

your arms illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table. silent tears ran down your face as you exposed yourself to him. you have never felt so vulnerable, bare, and scared in your entire life.

"sunghoon i-" before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a silent embrace. one hand pushing your waist to be flush against him, and the other to the nape of your neck.

you eventually muster up the courage to pull away to look up at him. silent tears flowed down sunghoon's cheeks. your eyes widened, sunghoon never cried. your lip quivered at the sight. it was your turn to wipe the tears from his cheek as he did for you earlier.

"um i don't really know what else to say but this explains why i've always covered up my arms around you, why i never was intimate with you...even though i really really wanted to..." you let out a chuckle through your cries trying to lighten the mood.

"...i-i'm sorry i'm such a mess. i know you probably didn't want this going into the relationship. i just- i'm so sorry hoon... i get it if this too much for you."

"you don't have anything to be sorry for y/n..." he grabbed your hand to lace it together with his.

"...this is definitely not an easy thing to share. it just breaks my heart to see someone so kind, smart, and beautiful could do this to herself" he kissed your lips, one of his salty tears landed on your lips.

he used your currently intertwined hands to lift up your arms, placing gentle yet tender kisses to each mark on your arms, your breath hitching at his every touch. this was the first time anyone has been so close, seen you at the most vulnerable. and yet he is treating you like you are made of porcelain.

"this isn't too much y/n. i still think you are the most beautiful person i've ever met—inside and out. this is just a reminder or how strong you are and you overcame whatever you faced in the past. i hope one day you can open up and confide in me because i'm here for you baby. through the good and the bad, especially the bad. because i love you."

your heart melted at his comforting and sincere words, now shedding tears of joy.

"i-i love you too hoon, thank you"

taglist (open!): @laylasbunbunny @blackberryrains

ramblings: this made me so soft and healed my past self 🥺 would you guys like to see more full fics/series or oneshots like this?

thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think <3

reblogs, likes, & comments are always appreciated!!

[jqyszn]

i just imagined reader being an mc on mubank or inkigayo or smth, while the mcs are interviewing enha, reader actually has a remote control vibrator in and hoon has gradually been increasing the speed and intensity while she was interviewing them

(maybe they fuck after enha's perf cause he feels bad)

anon. i love you for this omg. first of all that’s so sunghoon coded??? like i bet you he would love seeing you squirm and holding back your whimpers while you clamp your legs together🥺 this is honestly too good to not make a drabble so here you go <3

(drabble under cut!)

pairing: idol!sunghoon x idol!mc!fem!reader

warnings: vibrator (obv), pet names (princess, baby), sunghoon being a cheeky bastard, orgasm denial, pulling out method (please wear protection😭), hair pulling, mirror sex..?, pwp???

and now, the “future of kpop.. enhypen!” you cheered as enhypen walked into the room bowing. as soon as they get in their positions, sunghoon mischievously put his hand in his pocket and switched on the remote. your body jerks as you bite your lip to seal your moans.

“so sunghoon, would you say this comeback has been a hit?” the other mc asks him.

“of course! our fans and other idols including y/n here seem to love it!” he grinned, increasing the intensity of the vibrator causing you to bow your head down not wanting anyone to see your fucked out expression.

“y/n are you alright?” one of the members asks to which you shoot your head up and nod, “yes i’m alright thank you, its probably because of the heat of this fire comeback!” you exclaim at the camera, looking back at sunghoon giving him a glare.

a quick intermission comes on giving sunghoon a chance to whisper into your ear.

“you’re doing so good princess.. you close?” he smirks against your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

“i’m so close hoon, please.” you beg, whimpering in his ear making his eyes darken with lust.

“as much as i love you baby, you can only cum if it’s around my cock. feel it baby, it’s so fucking hard for you.” he playfully moaned in your ear, guiding your hand down his body. your hand grazing over his hot and heavy boner.

“meet me in the changing rooms after our performance hm?” he grinned at you before the crew announced that you were now broadcasting again.

waiting for the performance to finish was tedious. watching him dance and sing with his charisma practically dripping off of him. even watching him from afar had you soaking your panties.

once the performance was finished, you waited for what seemed like decades, watching the other staff and members leave the room. after watching the last staff leave, you knock on the door.

“get in here.” he growls, pulling you in immediately smashing his lips onto yours, kissing you so hard and needy. “fuck i need you so bad right now. turn around.” his hand landing on your plump ass, earning a red mark.

you bend over the make up table, your soaked panties on full display for him. he licked his lips hungrily lifting up your skirt before he tore them off. “oh shit. do you see how fucking wet you are right now?” he teased, yanking the vibrator out of you replacing it with his slender fingers.

“ahh~ sunghoon!” you moan out only to be hushed by him. “be quiet. do you want everyone to know how well i’m gonna fuck you?” he cocked an eyebrow looking at you through the mirror. “no..” you answer, biting your lip almost to the point you can taste blood.

“exactly.” he tutted, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants before taking them off along with his boxers in a swift move. his raging, leaking tip hitting off his lower abdomen then standing proud.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to pound this little pussy.” he groans, pumping his length before lining it up with your entrance. “hoon please put it in..!” you begged, your hole clenching around nothingness.

“you best bet i fucking will.” he smirked, pushing himself into you, making sure you feel every inch of his throbbing cock. a loud moan escapes you, sunghoon hushing you by covering your mouth with his large hand.

“so you really do want people to hear us don’t you princess? such a dirty girl~” he cooed as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you. “don’t you dare make a sound.” he whispered into your ear seductively, removing his hand from your mouth only to pull your hair back as he pounded into you from behind.

“look at you, being fucked dumb by me. fuck! your pussy is so tight!” he grunted, pulling you hair harder.

“hoon.. i’m close!” you quietly moan, your walls clenching uncontrollably on his length.

“cum for me then princess. milk my cock for all you’re worth.” he let go of your hair, taking both your arms and pinning them behind your back.

“shit i’m cumming hoon!” you shut your eyes, feeling yourself let go all over his cock. your warm juices coating his girthy memeber deliciously.

“so.. fucking… good!” he grunted as he begins to approach his high, slamming into you like a wild beast. “ah shit!” he growls, pulling out of your cunt quickly. he pumped his wet dick, his load spurting all over your ass.

a/n: i literally finished this “drabble” within 2 hours which is insane because it’s not that far off with words as “Like what you see?” has 😭😭 maybe because i was busy…? idk but i hope u enjoyed this

[thefandomexpert]

ok. i see u complaining about how long it takes to get to shb, how are you supposed to get your friends into the fucking WONDER that is shb when they have to get through all of The Other Stuff First

I used to have this problem with Homestuck, people who wanted to skip to the trolls, or pass on the intermissions. I will repeat what I said then now:

The later stuff is mind-blowingly good BECAUSE of the setup slog. which is also fun btw, you’re having trouble selling it because you keep saying it’s a slog. it’s good storytelling! yes even arr and sb (i didn’t say it was the best storytelling!! but i’ve seen way fuckin worse!!!). You need to spend 300 hours with the characters and to watch them grow gradually for a LOT of the little character moments to even register later on, and i’m not even talking about the ascian reveals. estinien is a completely different character. thancred’s deep-seated issues have been brewing subtly since 1.0. the socio-economic political climate of the universe is SO important and SO well set up by the arr random task/fetch quests (BABY INCONSEQUENTIAL QUESTS. YEAH THE STUPID ONES IN THE INTRO PRE-SASTASHA SEQUENCES WITH THE NPCS YOU DONT REMEMBER. THOSE.) and that info is integral to character decisions made in every expansion afterwords, and is built upon consistently. the consistent build-up of the lore is, in my opinion, almost entirely the reason ffxiv’s writing stands out against other games of the genre. and it’s BOLSTERED by the fact that it’s a live service game with a shit ton of expansions you HAVE to play through single file when you start fresh. narrative games are usually 15-20 hours. ffxiv is giving you 500+ in msq alone (won’t get into how much the optional and side quests support the storytelling as well).

It’s like one of those long-running book series. you can’t ask someone to read Just the last book of animorphs and expect them to understand the narrative implications of what’s happening, or to get attached to the characters enough to care. that attachment and understanding is built by spending time and reading the other 1500 books prior. shb should not be treated as a stand-alone. in fact it’d be a bad standalone. it’s good BECAUSE there’s 500+ hours of playtime required to get there.

[haddonfieldwhore]

safe and sound - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x gn!reader

summary: matthew gets hurt during a game; you get worried it’s bad like last time

warnings: mention of injury, sprinkle of angst

word count: 0.9k

you watched with bated breath as matthew skated cautiously towards the bench, doubling over in discomfort as he sat down, and you pinched your arm gently between your fingertips. ‘it’s just a bad dream- like it always is’ you thought to yourself; ever since he had fractured his sternum during the playoffs last season, your body tensed anytime he was hit into the boards. more times than you could count, you had woken with a start from a nightmare of matthew getting injured again, only to reach over and find him asleep next to you. the thought of him getting hurt like that again plagued your mind, and you wanted more than anything for this to be a dream.

but as the game continued on in front of you, matthew still sat on the bench, you came to the conclusion that you were awake; that this was real. it hadn’t looked like a dirty hit, just an unfortunate one as number 19 found himself crushed between two of the carolina players; no love lost between these two teams. you were not at the game tonight, and as the players departed to the locker room for the first intermission you watched your phone impatiently for a text from matthew.

it finally came through, after what felt like perhaps the longest five minutes of your life, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you read the message on the screen.

he said he would be home soon and you tried to focus on the rest of the game, which remained scoreless until nearly the bitter end. florida scored but the goal was called offside and taken away, and in the end carolina scored with only 18 seconds left, leading to them winning the game.

not long after matthew returned home looking defeated and tired, his hair messy and his white shirt unbuttoned at the top underneath his grey suit he had worn to the game. his tie had been forgotten as it was absent from around his neck, and you walked over to the door to greet him, pulling him into a cautious hug.

“hey,” he hummed under his breath as he placed his bag on the ground and his arms circled around your body. your head rested on his chest as you breathed in his familiar scent, easing your anxiety slightly.

“hey matty,” you sighed, kissing his exposed collarbone softly.

“i’m not gonna break, you know,” he laughed softly, noticing your hesitation, but his body betrayed him as he winced slightly from the laughter shaking his chest. he hoped you hadn’t noticed.

you did.

“but you can, and that’s what scares me,” you protested, still holding on to him carefully. “what happened? are you okay?” you asked, your fingertips gently touching his torso.

“yeah, it’s probably just a bruised rib. they’ll evaluate again tomorrow but for now it should just be a day to day thing,”

“don’t push yourself. if you’re hurt like you were last season…“

“i’m not,“

“are you sure? don’t think i’ve forgotten that brady had to physically drag you out of bed and help you get dressed. and then you played a game after.“

“i know. im sorry baby,” he kissed the top of your head.

“i just worry about you,” you sighed, pulling away to look up at him, your hand reaching up to brush his curls away from his forehead. his hair was getting long, and he had let his facial hair grow out a bit as well; he looked beautiful, though his eyes remained sad as they looked down at you.

“i hadn’t noticed,” he teased, a smile spreading across his face as finally a sparkle of amusement reached his eyes. “i love you,” he smiled again, and the corner of your mouth pulled upwards.

“i love you more,” you argued. “i love you in one piece though, so please try to stay that way-“ he interrupted you with a kiss, and you could feel his smile against your lips.

“i’ll try,” he promised, and he meant it whether you believed him or not.

“thank you,” you kissed him softly again. “but just for the record, i will always be here to put you back together.” you gently slid his suit jacket off his shoulders, placing it over the back of the couch as you walked towards it to sit down. matthew pulled you into his side and you snuggled close to him.

“did the seattle game start yet?” he asked, and you laughed; he truly did live and breathe hockey.

“i think so, probably a few minutes ago,” you said, grabbing the remote and switching on the tv. “i still can’t believe you want to watch hockey after playing a game. you guys don’t even play them again this season.”

“yeah but vancouver is only two points ahead of us, so i want them to lose,” he explained. it made sense; florida was fighting back and forth with boston for first in the eastern conference right now, and both teams were right on the tail of the canucks who were first overall in the league.

“are you sure you don’t want to just rest?”

“i’m watching a game, not playing it,” he laughed, and his lips pressed against the side of your head as he held you close to him. “and besides,” he said with a smile as he looked at you. you who always made sure he was okay. you who probably would’ve dropped the gloves (metaphorically speaking) with svechnikov yourself for hitting him if given the opportunity. you who he loved more than anyone else in the world.

“i feel better already.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[roseofthewind]

Furina and High-Masking Autism

A lot of people don’t know how to recognize high-masking autism because its presentation challenges many stereotypes about what autistic people are like, but Furina continues to be a perfect example of it.

It should go without saying, but I love Furina as a character and this analysis is in no way putting her down. Autism is an entirely neutral trait that carries through to adulthood, and if you have a strong negative reaction to the idea of a character you like being autistic, you have probably absorbed a lot of misconceptions about autism and have some unconscious prejudice to unpack.

In the paragraphs that follow, I am going to explain several autistic traits and give examples of how Furina displays each trait.

*thinking face on*

1. Autism is, at its core, a difference in the way the brain takes in, processes, and shares information. This can make it challenging to communicate with other people who don’t share this neurotype, but a high-masking autistic person has observed the way other people interact and spent years copying them, figuring out through trial and error how to act to best fit in and get the most positive responses from other people.

Furina’s ascension speech in Act V of the Fontaine Archon Quest, where she first presents herself to the people of Fontaine, is a great example of this observation of others with the goal of masking as well as possible. Furina initially gives the speech as comes naturally to her in a very straightforward and honest manner (also an autistic trait!). After the speech, she realizes that her citizens are responding with hostility to her humility and lack of authoritarianism, so she then plays off the original speech as a ruse and immediately redoes the entire thing more assertively according to the feedback she picked up on.

(Calm down, Furina… Think. Think. What do the people want? How would they imagine a god to speak and act?)

Fontaine AQ Act V, Chinese audio: (link starts video at 3:10:07) https://youtu.be/T-AbXi5bufk?si=eQADAWw6n8Sk0PZE&t=11407

This is the kind of social trial and error that many autistic people do over the course of years so that eventually we can say the “right thing” the first time around, and it’s a testimony to Furina’s skills as an actor that she course-corrects so quickly.

Because of all the constant mental calculations, social situations are usually very tiring for autistic people, even when the social event lines up with their interests. In Clorinde’s Story Quest, Furina has no interest in Navia’s suggestion of pulling an all-nighter to keep playing D&D (I mean, Tabletop Troupe!) and wants to go home and rest.

Furina: Huh!? Oh, um… I’m not sure I’ll have enough energy for that…

Furina has shown other signs of needing to take a break from socializing– for instance, in Lynette’s hangout event quest, Lynette gets tired of all the people at her post-performance reception and goes upstairs to a quieter room to find Furina already there.

Furina offers to give Lynette tips on the best ways to slip away from an event, and Lynette misunderstands at first and isn’t interested in Furina’s advice because she thinks Furina loves everything about the spotlight and doesn’t realize how much they have in common. This goes a long way to show just how well Furina masks her autistic traits!

Furina: I see you’ve escaped the crowds to seek refuge on the second floor. Fame can be overwhelming at first, can’t it? Perhaps you’d benefit from hearing about the experiences of a veteran celebrity such as myself?

Lynette: No thanks, I’m good. Pretty sure this’ll be my first and last time in this situation…

Furina: Hey, at least let me finish! I have top tips on dealing with belligerent reporters, slipping away to hunt down snacks during the intermission…

Lynette: …Tell me everything.

Conversely, when alone, Furina will stay up late reading or doing something else that interests her and will not feel the same need to stop and rest, because when alone, there is no need to expend extra energy worrying about socializing properly.

At the beginning of the Fontinalia Film Festival limited event story, Traveler and Paimon go to Furina’s apartment and she answers the door sounding a bit groggy.

Paimon: Did you just get up, Furina? It’s already past noon, you know…

After Traveler chastises Paimon for being rude, Paimon panics and says something nonsensical about how the weather is so nice in the afternoon and sleeping in is fine, actually, and Furina responds that she’s just a bit tired because she was up late reading:

Furina: I was just up late last night reading some novels…

When focused on an interest, it’s very easy for an autistic person to lose track of time and it can be difficult to break out of the focused state and go to bed. (This is a trait that overlaps significantly with ADHD.)

2. Alexithymia is a difficulty with identifying, processing, and expressing your own emotions, and in extreme cases presents as an almost total lack of emotion. Some degree of alexithymia is common in autistic people.

I believe, in the flashback scene below from Act V of the Fontaine Archon Quest, that Furina genuinely did not realize she was upset and did not realize she was crying, which could be explained by alexithymia.

Fontainian citizen: Are… are you crying?

(If you played this part with the English voice acting and interpreted it differently, try listening to it in Chinese- Furina’s voice sounds completely confident and in control the entire time, and it’s not until the other person points out she’s crying that Furina sounds at all upset.)

Fontaine AQ Act V, Chinese audio: (link starts video at 3:22:00) https://youtu.be/T-AbXi5bufk?si=fl8xSwkQ0rRLFPQU&t=12121

I am a believer that Furina and Focalors were originally the same person, and Focalors is just Furina’s divinity and pre-archonhood memories— so if Furina is autistic, Focalors is autistic.

While talking to Neuvillette, Focalors is extremely matter-of-fact with her explanation of her plan, very matter-of-fact about the suffering of her own human self, and very matter-of-fact about her own impending death. There is no show of emotion— she just tells Neuvillette the facts. This could be related to alexithymia, but regardless it is a very autistic way of communicating that is often misinterpreted as cold and uncaring. In actuality, someone who is willing to sacrifice their own immortality, divine power, and freedom to save other people’s lives cares a great deal, even if the tone of their voice doesn’t reflect it!

Focalors: I mean, did you think I would be the sort to enjoy peaceful repose while Furina suffered?

3. The autistic nervous system takes in a lot of information that a neurotypical person’s would filter out as not being important enough to bother with- this is why autistic people are so much more sensitive to sounds, lights, textures, and any changes in the environment. Too much sensory input can actually feel painful.

There is a documented instance of the Opera Epiclese becoming so loud that Furina was overstimulated enough to yell at everyone to be quiet.

Furthermore, post-Archon Quest, after moving out of the Palais Mermonia and into her own apartment, Furina eats primarily macaroni for an unspecified amount of time— weeks or months on end. After a huge life change, it’s common for an autistic person to want anything they can control to be the same, so their brain has more space to process everything that’s different.

There is no neurotypical explanation for eating the same food over and over to the exclusion of everything else. It makes no sense to someone who doesn’t experience overstimulation and distress at too much change. Case in point, during Furina’s Story Quest, Traveler and Paimon are rather baffled:

Traveler: …Don’t you get sick of macaroni every day?

Furina: Not at all. As long as you have different kinds of sauces in, you can have macaroni and tomato sauce one week, macaroni and bolognese the next…

Notice that Furina says “macaroni and tomato sauce one week,” implying that she’s fine with just that sauce for an entire week, and then uses a different sauce for the next entire week. Still not very much variety!

Paimon: Oh, sounds like you’re really struggling to cope… Traveler: Is it because you have to do all your own cooking now?

Yes, Furina is struggling to cope, but not because she’s incapable of learning how to cook more complex dishes! She’s just too burnt out to want to make or eat a variety of things right now. Furina explains this and Paimon doesn’t believe her, but since we know that Furina’s special dish is an even more extravagant version of La Lettre a Focalors, if Furina is capable of baking at that level, she would certainly be capable of cooking.

4. Stimming, or self-stimulatory behaviors, are repetitive actions that serve to regulate or soothe the nervous system. There are countless behaviors that can be used as stims, but some common ones are rocking back and forth, hand flapping or waving, leg bouncing, skin picking or scratching, rubbing or squeezing a comforting object, dancing, spinning in circles, humming or vocalizing, or listening to the same song on repeat for hours. (It’s worth noting that stimming is not exclusive to autism— especially when stressed neurotypical people do some of these things too. Stimming can also be commonly exhibited by people with ADHD who aren’t autistic, although there are also a significant number of people with both ADHD and autism.)

One of Furina’s idle animations and also her normal attack sequence include behaviors that can be interpreted as stimming. Furina’s idle animation with Surintendante Chevalmarin involves her holding the seahorse up, waving her around, squeezing her tightly and rubbing her face on her head. Chevalmarin is made entirely of water and loves Furina dearly, and so does not mind being cuddled like a stuffed animal.

If you use all four of Furina’s normal attacks, she spins around several times and the final attack culminates with her spinning on a bubble and swinging her sword for AOE. If you use just three of Furina’s normal attacks and do not append any additional actions, Furina spins around again before plunging the tip of her sword into the ground (I do not have a gif of this). Furina also spins around when added to your 4-character party. That’s a lot of spinning, which certainly makes it seem like a preferred stim!

5. I got this far without mentioning special interests because I have so much other evidence that I hardly need to bring it up— but since it’s a much more commonly recognized autistic trait than many of the things I discussed at the beginning, I will include this part of Furina’s teapot dialogue, which does indicate that Furina engages in special interests:

Furina pretty much defines “special interest” with the above statement: it’s something that you’re interested in (to the point that it may feel like an obsession) and you have to know everything about it!

These are just a few examples of autistic traits that Furina exhibits— there are absolutely more. Furina is shown many times to have a high level of near constant anxiety despite being someone who is confident enough to perform on stage. This anxiety could come from other sources, like c-PTSD, but it’s very common for a high-masking autistic person to have chronic anxiety from being hyper-aware of avoiding potential social blunders, repressing stimming to appear more “normal,” and dealing with the increased risk of overstimulation that comes with repressing stimming.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! Even if you don’t agree with my interpretation of the character, I do genuinely hope you learned something about autism.

[vpyre]

A Quick Taste

AO3 Link

Tags: gn!Reader/Copia, submissive/needy Copia, oral sex, he’s pathetic even when he’s getting his dick sucked, some dirty talk, backstage shenanigans, some ageplay undertones (Copia’s just a little guy), some scent/sweat kink

SOMEONE can’t keep from getting horny on stage, so it’s up to you to provide some quick intermission relief.

The intermission announcement echoes through the concert hall, and you sit up from where you’d been resting on the couch, enjoying Copia’s muffled- but still unquestionably lovely- singing from the other side of the wall. There’s the sound of a door opening and clattering footsteps. He sprints backstage and darts around like a madman. He’s looking for someone. Looking for you, if the prominent tent in his pants is any indication. You smile and roll your eyes, heart full of fondness for your poor, easily excited sweetheart.

“Copia! I’m over here!” You wave him over.

He stops in his tracks, perks up, then scurries over to the couch where you’re sitting. He’s definitely hard. You raise an eyebrow at him and his ears flush pink.

“Got too, ehhh, excited during the last song.” He chuckles sheepishly, fiddling with his gloves. “Do- do you mind if I- just really quickly- uhm…”

You grab the waistband of his jeans and yank him towards you. He yelps in surprise, grabbing your shoulders to catch his balance, ears burning red now.

Smiling up at him mischievously, you start undoing the laces of his pants. “Are you wearing underwear, or were you feeling like a whore tonight, Papa?”

He bites his lip and fidgets for a moment, looking down, avoiding your gaze. “I- I’m not,” he admitted. “I wanted to see if I could go the whole show without, uh…” he paused, then mumbled, “getting hard.”

“And what does that make you?” He says nothing, glancing nervously off to the side. You grab his chin firmly and force him to look at you. “Say it, amorino.”

“…A whore.”

You smile and let his face go with an affectionate pat. “Good boy. Now…” you murmur, running your hands slowly and deliberately down his chest, down his sides, following the dip of his waist and the swell of his hips. “Let’s see that pretty cock, sweet boy.”

He whines eagerly and his fingers dig into your shoulders as you pull the front of his jeans down. His dick springs free, stiff, flushed, and already leaking. Shooting him a roguish grin, you run a finger teasingly along the underside. He bites his lip and hums softly.

“My goodness, baby. You’re absolutely dripping,” you croon. “We’ll be done well before the end of intermission, I think. Now come a little closer, darling. I’m gonna clean you up a bit.”

He nods enthusiastically and inches closer, cock bobbing up and down, dribbling precum on your lap. Oh, your lovely, needy, perfect boy. You wrap your hand around the base and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering closed as you lick gently at the tip in long, slow strokes. His precum is sweet, just like him. You savor the taste, swirling your tongue around his cockhead and pressing it into his slit. His breathing is ragged, and he moans so beautifully as you run your tongue down to the base, nosing at the soft, greying hair just above. You draw in a deep breath, nuzzling closer, savoring the heady, intoxicating scent of his sweat. You dip down to mouth at his balls, and the slight saltiness from his earlier exertions makes your mouth water. He groans, hips jolting, cock twitching as you fondle him with your tongue. When you gently suck them into your mouth, he lurches forward and whimpers out a rapturous “Oh-!” that burns through your veins and pools between your legs. Fuck, you love the sounds he makes.

You pull back with a quiet pop, then dive back in, licking hungrily at the sweat that still lingers. His blissful little sounds fill the air, a steady stream of gorgeous moans and gasps spilling from his mouth. His cock is stiff and drooling, a warm rivulet of precum rolling down the shaft and onto your cheek. Sathanas, he’s such a beautiful mess. You follow the flow back up with your tongue, ravenously lapping up every bit. You can’t help it; he just tastes so fucking good.

You close your lips around the tip and lave your tongue over his slit again and again and again, relishing every sweet drop that seeps out. He whines brokenly, drawn-out and tremulous, scrabbling at your shoulders as you take a little more of him into your mouth, tongue still working feverishly. He sounds so fucking pretty, every whimper and every cry tingling across your skin and burning through your bones as your lips and tongue stroke him faster and faster.

He fists his hands in your hair, hunched and shaking with sheer bliss as he cries, “Cazzo, amore mio! Please! Ah- sathanas! Please-!”

You can’t stifle your low groan of pleasure as he falls apart under your tongue. He’s so beautiful like this, debauched and desperate and trembling and begging and-

“Oh, amore. Amore! I’m gonna- ah! T- tesoro, I’m gonna cum-“

He spasms and shudders, a sharp wail tearing from his throat, and a warm gush of spend spills onto your tongue. You can’t get enough, reveling in the taste as you work him through his climax, hungrily drinking up every drop as he claws at your shoulders, twitching and gasping. His cock twitches and throbs in your mouth as you suck him dry.

You pull away and wipe the drool and pre from your face, utterly satisfied. He’s still holding onto you in a daze, hair falling loose around his face, looking for all the world like you’d just sucked his brain out through his dick, and you bask in the sight. God, he looks so cute when he’s been fucked stupid.

There’s a rustle of movement from the other end of backstage and you hear the ghouls chattering as they get ready to head back out. You look back up at Copia and he’s blinking owlishly down at you. Clearly his brain is still in the process of turning back on. You chuckle. He’s so painfully endearing. A pat on his thigh gives him the little kickstart that he needs and he straightens up abruptly.

“Cazzo! Oh shit. Amore, I- eh, I gotta go.” He shoves himself back in his pants, fumbling clumsily with the laces. “Th- thank you!”

You bark out a laugh. “Anytime, sweetheart. Just come find me after the ritual; I’m gonna need you to return the favor. Alright, baby?”

He stops messing with the strings, looking up at you and nodding eagerly, eyes lighting up with excitement. You wave him off so he doesn’t miss his cue, and he stumbles away with an awkward little wave, still trying to tie up his pants as he goes.

[grogusmum]

IRL

Part 3 @han_shot_first

JAVI X F!PLUS SIZE!READER

SUMMARY: Set before the events of The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. Javi and Reader are friends online, and after a year of DMing they decide to meet. (The only change is Javi and Gabriela are just friends)

WORD COUNT: 1800ish

WARNINGS: Reader has insecurities about her size and appearance. Javi is adorable, be warned. Things get spicy.

Part 2

“Girasol,” he whispers; voice husky. Your knees go a little watery not only from the want in Javi’s voice for you but for the sweet nickname, sunflower.

His warm, plush lips taste your mouth, chin, and neck. Tickling behind your ear, you had never kissed anyone with a mustache or much facial hair. It tickles and rasps over your soft skin deliciously, especially your neck, causing your shoulder to jump with a smiling gasp. 

Being pressed against the wall was also new to you like this gorgeous man can't get enough of you and needs to be as close as he can possibly get. One hand is cradling your jaw; the other travels from your hip under your sweater, where he has found that the dress is sleeveless. He hums, pleased by his discovery. You try not to feel emotional and keep the thought - thank you. Thank you for being attracted to me, even though… inside your head. But it brings up some tears that you blink away. 

The moment you open your eyes, the lights flicker, signaling you to return to the theater.

“Javi?”

“Hmmm?” He murmurs, distracted by devouring your neck.

“The next film-”

He pulls away as the lights flicker again. 

“We will pick this up back at the hotel,” he rumbles. 

Javi takes your hand and leads the way to the theater. Since you are among the last to sit, Javi looks and tugs you toward the back of the theater. He noticed your glassy eyes when he pulled away. He wonders if he overstepped.

After you settle into your seat-

“I'm sorry,” Javi looks at you with his puppiest eyes.

“For?”

“Well, I- for,” Javi struggles. “ Maybe I was too forward, and now we don't have good se-”

You smile; Javi really is the sweetest.

“Javi, I have never been so turned on in my life,” you murmur in his ear, and his face breaks into a broad smile, his eyes dancing. 

While the rest of the day flies and is more fun than you've had in a long time, every once and a while, you get a little in your head when hobnobbing with “the beautiful people.” But somehow, Javi seems to feel it every time, and he brings you closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, murmuring a sweet check-in.

Online, late at night, you would talk and talk, and you thought you felt a tension in the last month before planning to meet, but you always half-heartedly dismissed it. And when you saw his picture, you wholeheartedly dismissed it. How can someone like him…but here you both are. He doesn't even see the other women. Javi has at least one hand on you at all times. Holding your hand or on your thigh with his thumb chasing little circles during the films and Q&As, his arm wrapped around your waist during intermission. This new layer to your relationship is exciting, if a little scary. 

All you have been thinking about since the alcove is getting back to the hotel, but as Javi checks you both in, your traitorous brain starts to race; you know Javi is a good guy, he would never just presume, and if you put on the brakes he would respect that…but now that it's here. It's not that you don't want to; you want to, by the gods, do you. But what if he doesn't like what he sees when you are, quite literally, laid bare?

Javi returns with the key cards, his stomach knots in new and exciting ways. 

“It's a two-bedroom penthouse suite,”he murmurs, primarily to his feet. He can feel the tips of his ears going hot, “I got them before - but you know, if you don't - I mean, if we-”

Javi doesn't know what you are thinking. But he can easily see the anxiety scrawled across you. But he doesn't know what has you in this state—

Watching him, you can see his effort. To keep you comfortable, respecting your boundaries, and he keeps showing you he is attracted to you, all of you.

So you tell your liar of a brain to shut up for once, and your first finger goes gently under his chin, tipping his head to look at you. 

“Javi? Please take me upstairs.” 

This is when Javi’s brain short circuits.

The penthouse is, of course, gorgeous, just as Javi hoped. There’s a fireplaced living room, with the spread of chocolate-covered strawberries, soft cheeses, warm crusty bread, and the champagne he asked for on a coffee table. 

“Javi! This is, does this just come with penthouse suites or…”

“There are always, well, ‘amenities,’ but um, I asked for your favorites.”

“When?”

“As soon as you said you’d come to visit.”

“But-”

“I know it was a little bold of me, but I - sort of had this big plan to try to win your heart this weekend. But like I said, I got two rooms, I wasn’t, you know, ‘expecting something’,” All of this comes out in a rush, but Javi takes a breath and slows down, his eyes taking in your lovely face.

“‘Han Shot First’, I’ve been having feelings for you for a long, long time.”

It's your face’s turn to warm, as romantic as his nickname Girasol is, as beautiful as it makes you feel... There's something about him using your url handle at this moment - the name he knew before he had seen your picture… You fling your arms around him, and without hesitation, his mouth seals to yours. His hand goes to your cardigan, peeling it off. Before you can have another wave of anxiety, the groan Javi lets loose as his hands run up and down your upper arms and around your back settles your qualms. He presses you as close to him as he can without occupying the same space, thus defying the laws of physics.

“Girasol”, Javi murmurs. “I can't believe how lucky I am.”

His hands rove your back, hips, and backside. You keep beating back your traitorous brain, so you can just enjoy how this feels. He likes everything he's touching. 

One of his hands comes to the side of your face, holding you tight in his kiss. 

“May I undress you?”

Javi begins unbuttoning your dress, his hands so sure at every button. He pulls back the top of the dress off your shoulders, and his needy kisses travel from one to the other, stopping to enjoy your collarbones and the hollow of your throat. Then he lets the dress fall, a circle at your feet. You slip his blue blazer off his shoulders and start unbuttoning his shirt. You peek back at his face to see adoration.

You nod, and the look he gave you in the alcove returns causes a pleasant zing in your lower belly.

Javi becomes impatient and brings his arms hurriedly out of his sleeves, and pulls you against him once more, his arms wrapped around your waist. With urgent kisses, he walks you backward until your calves hit the bed. 

Giving a yip as you drop onto it, a nervous giggle bubbles up, and you take a breath, eyes closed. Mirroring your action in the lobby, Javi's curled forefinger gently lifts your face to him.

“I am enamored with every inch of you, Girasol. Every last inch.”

Against your will, your eyes swim, so that is where Javi decides to start in his worship. His hands cradle your face, thumbs brush the tears away. Pressing kisses to your cheeks. 

Your hands rest on his narrow hips as you look up at this beautiful man, this silly, passionate, delightful man.

He wants me, you think, all of me.

Your hands travel up his sun-kissed torso, the sweet curve of his belly, but just as your hands settle on his chest, he has your shoulders, pressing them to the bed. And this was that moment you feared, laid out on the bed. Suddenly Javi’s got you behind your knees with those enormous paws of his, and with a quick and decisive pull, he's got your ass at the edge of the bed and thighs over his broad shoulders, and you can feel his breath at your core. 

“Javi!” Breath quickening, you are pretty sure you almost came from being moved like that; you don’t get “thrown around”

Javi's hands run up your thighs, his thumbs massage the crease where your hip meets them  -

“Did you like that, Girasol?”

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