#well. no. it IS almost done. probably gonna finish it tomorrow

[raiiny-bay]

wip

[supercasey]

10,750 words, I am absolutely fucking insane, wtf

[orcelito]

On the clock is the perfect time to write

I'm at almost 5k words now for ITNL 14

[flippinpancakes64]

Hello, I absolutely love your work. iv re read your stuff so many times that it's getting concerning.

Can I request the cullens x artist reader who made a painting of them I just think that would be cute

The Cullens with an Artist! Reader

Thank you?!?! I suggest seeking mental help for rereading my bad stories tho

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

We all know that he is an artist too

He made Bella a whole song on the piano

As someone who can play the piano, that’s not easy

So he definitely loves that you’re also artistic

For you, he’s a muse

I mean, how could he not be

Literally the definition of perfect

So obvs you sketch him a lot

When he finds an almost finished painting one day of him, he is floored

He can never seem to wrap his mind around the fact that you are just as obsessed with him as he is with you

He hangs it up

Even if it’s not finished

If you insist on finishing it, he will begrudgingly take it down and give it back

But as soon as it’s done it’s all his

Alice:

She’s also an artist

But more with fashion

And design

She’s not so well-versed with the classical arts like painting or sketching

So she always loves seeing your paintings

She’s a coexistence girly

She loves to just be doing something while you’re painting

You know just sort of existing in the same space at the same time

The day you give her the painting, she is so surprised

It was so difficult for you to hide this from her

Especially with her gift

She absolutely loves it

She hangs it in the main room of the Cullen house

She wants absolutely everyone to see it and acknowledge how talented her s/o is

Jasper:

He loves the arts

They’re relaxing to him

Some of his favorite classes he’s ever taken in all of the schools they’ve been at have been art classes

He’s not good by any means, but he loves it anyway

Art dates with him are a must

He would love that tiktok trend where you and your partner trade paintings every couple of minutes

Never misses an opportunity to tell you that he loves your work

He honestly almost started crying when you showed him your painting of him

You made him look so happy, so peaceful

He’s used to being perceived as a monster

Definitely hangs it up

But only in his room

He wants to be the only one to see it

Rosalie:

She’s more of a technical, sciencey person

Not to say she doesn’t like art

Just that she doesn’t necessarily enjoy making it

She can definitely appreciate good work tho

And she loves everything you make

She buys you new supplies all of the time

If just one pen ran out of ink in your favorite set, she would buy you a whole new set

When you give her that first painting though, she’s obsessed

She wants at least 20 more by tomorrow

But actually, she knows that she’s beautiful

But something about the way you capture her is just so different she loves it

Emmett:

He’s not an art person either

He’s a bit of a meathead

But he can appreciate art

Probably not as deeply as other people can

But he know when it looks good

And he genuinely thinks you’re the best artist ever

He will gladly put all of your little doodles in the clear pockets of his binders

And hang them on his locker

When you give him the painting of him he’s actually dumbfounded

Like awestruck

What do you mean the best artist in the world just made a painting of him?

Get ready to be cuddled for the rest of the night

Esme:

Resident artist

We already knew that tho

I’m pretty sure it’s said that she’s the one who made the grad cap piece?

Idk

Either way she loves art

Pottery dates, painting picnics, date nights at the art museum

She loves it

So if you were to ever paint her and give it to her?

Yeah she’s gonna start crying

She just loves art, she loves you, and you put them together and she’s so in love

She hangs it in the main room

It doesn’t matter if the colors clash

And it’s never coming down

Carlisle:

Another appreciater of the arts

I mean, he probably knew Da Vinci on a personal level this guy is so old

So it’s no shock

Whenever he’s home and hanging out with you, he loves to watch you paint or draw

Especially if he’s doing some paperwork

I just feel like he would like the company while he’s working

Now I don’t see Carlisle as the type of guy to necessarily enjoy pictures or paintings of himself

The only portraits he has in his office are either him in a crowd or family photos

So when you give him a portrait of himself, he’s a little shocked at first

He doesn’t want to seem narcissistic, but damn you made him look good

He hangs it up in your shared bedroom

Even though he knows he will likely never have guests who would see it, he wants to make sure it’s hidden

He just doesn’t want people to think he’s vain

But he secretly loves it so much

Vampire! Bella:

I think I’ve talked about it before but this girl would have loved deviantart

Rip Bella you would have loved fan art of your favorite characters

But she totally had an artsy phase

I don’t think she’s necessarily good or bad

She just prefers to look at art rather than make it

So that’s where you come in

She loves just watching you work

Every once in a while she paints with you

But she always feels inferior when she looks at what you made vs what she made

So she usually just sticks to admiring

The first time you give her a portrait of herself, she doesn’t even know what to do

She’s still getting used to actually perceiving herself as beautiful

And then you capture her like she’s a goddess?

She needs to lie down

She loves it tho

[melancholic-guts]

student council president and the student council media officer!

pairings : Kim Minji x gn! reader

genre : fluff!

a/n : this is my first fic, hope you like it!

parts: part 1

warnings : none (?)

Being the member of the student council was atrocious, - especially as a loner who had little to no friends, probably 4-5 friends who were all - well the same as you, unlike you tho, you had a 90-98 score average, making you the smartest of the group.

You also had a crush on the student council president, Kim Minji. She always eyed you as you did your projects, making advertisements for the school, and others. Keeping a steadfast glare on you, your hands, shaked as they edited the poster you were gonna submit, clicking the mouse as you added decorations.

Next Day

As you walked through the hallways of the school, you reached to open your locker, but, a tap on your shoulder emerged, making you jump, as you moved your head to your back, you found her. Kim Minji, smiling at you with utmost sincerity, her soft eyes boring into yours, a warm feeling engulfed your body, your stomach having butterflies flutter inside them,

ahem.

“y/n? hello?” Minji spoke softly, she probably called your name 3-4 times, before you realized and answered, “yeah? w-whats wrong?” you stuttered out, heat rising to your cheeks as she was almost too close to you, “well, i just wanted to ask if you finished the poster yet.. its almost 4 days before the deadline.” your eyes widened, forgetting to press submit last night as you were pulling an all-nighter, god..

you responded with, “y-yeah, yeah, i just need to finish some stuff- and i’ll be done..! yeah..” You regretted stuttering, how could you stutter infront of a pretty and polite girl like her? god, you’re messing up your chances, you thought.

“Oh.. alright then.. good luck!” She responded with, enthuasism in her voice, she smiled cheekily as she returned to her group of friends, well - popular, group of friends.

As she walked away, you couldn’t help but think you had a crush on her, tho, the warm feeling engulfing you had turned cold by now, - the butterflies that once fluttered, flied out of your stomach.

how could a loser like you have a chance with her?

3rd Period

The bell ringed, waking your half lidded eyes as you gathered your materials, shoving them into your backpack as you walked out of the class. Walking towards your locker, you opened it, as a note fell down to the floor, picking it up, you opened it carefully, it wrote,

“hey, y/n, if you’re free, would you like to meet up at the park afterschool, i’ll be at the swings, waiting.

sincerely,

xxx xxxxx.”

weird.. the name was blacked out with black ink.. you shoved the note into your coats pockets, leaving it as a reminder if you forgot, which, you would never.

as school had already ended, you stormed through the halls to the exit door, as it was raining, you had to ask your friend for an umbrella, since, they always brought an extra one just incase.

“hey, could i borrow an umbrella?”

you softly spoke, a smile painted on your face.

“sure, make sure to return tomorrow, yeah?”

they responded, handing you the umbrella

“thanks, i promise i’ll return it safe.”

you said, taking the umbrella and opening it.

“have a good day, then.”

they replied, as they walked to their car, exiting school grounds

as you walked with umbrella in-hand, you went onto your bike, placing the umbrella in a modified-in pocket on your bike, perfect for rainy days and sunny days -

you now rode your bike to the park, tho it was hard to see due to harsh weather conditions - you managed to make it out alive without crashing.

you waited at the park’s benches for awhile, waiting for the rain to stop - and it did.

you now walked to the swings, finding her.

your body instantly froze in fear, your words turning into a stuttering mess.

“hey, what did you want to meet up for?”

she spoke, raising one of her eyebrows with a confused look.

“i was about to ask the same thing, didn’t you give me a letter?”

you responded, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket.

“ah.. i guess we got played..”

she said, clearing her throat after the sentence.

“yeah.. um..”

you responded akwardly, eyes meeting the floor.

“well, while we’re still here, why don’t we continue? consider it as a friend date..”

she said, smile creeping up her face, her cheeks, visibly red.

“sure.. i mean, yeah, we can do that..”

you idly said, stuttering mid sentences.

“y/n.”

minji spoke, her tone monotone.

“huh?”

you said with a confused look, eyes meeting hers.

“i like you.”

ᯓ★ signing off, exulansis. all rights reserved. please don’t plagiarize and translate.

[steddieas-shegoes]

The first time Dustin tried to get Steve and Eddie to meet, Eddie refused.

“You expect me to be nice to Steve Harrington? The King of Hawkins High?”

“I told you, that’s old news,” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Last year isn’t exactly old news, Henderson.”

So Dustin let it be.

— — — — —

The second time they didn’t have a choice.

Eddie was wanted for murders he didn’t commit, and Steve was well-versed in the ways of the Upside Down.

When Eddie almost died, it was Steve who was able to carry him through the gate.

When Eddie was in the hospital for three weeks, it was Steve who sat by his side every night so he wouldn’t be alone with his nightmares.

When Eddie got out, it was Steve who brought him to his appointments and helped him get settled in the new government-provided house for him and Wayne.

When Eddie thought about it, Steve was probably the nicest guy he’d ever met.

— — — — — — — —

But Steve ended up having to go back to work when things got fixed up.

His parents left him the house, but otherwise cut him off.

Groceries and gas don’t pay for themselves.

So he saw him for an hour here or a few minutes there, always checking in when he dropped Dustin and Mike off for D&D.

Eddie started to wonder if Steve only hung out with him because he had like, survivors guilt or something. He had been so kind and caring, but clearly the clock ran out on that.

But to Dustin, it was just a reset.

Steve hadn’t changed, just his available time.

And it was time to do something about it.

— — — — — — —

They say the third time’s the charm, but in this case, it wasn’t.

In fact, Dustin almost gave up when this result ended in Eddie telling Steve to go fuck himself.

He didn’t know what happened, and he never found out, but Steve looked hurt, and Eddie shut himself in his room for three days.

— — — — — — —

Dustin was sick.

The flu was running rampant through the streets and school halls of Hawkins, leaving no person left untouched by the worst nausea and body aches known to humankind.

Also, Eddie’s dramatics may have been rubbing off on him. Just a little.

So he couldn’t go to Hellfire, and without him, they couldn’t finish the campaign.

But in his drug-addled mind, he thought of a resolution. Potentially. But bribery would have to be involved.

So he called Steve.

“Steve.” He turned up the pitifully low rasp of his voice to make it seem like he was dying. “I need you to cover me at Hellfire.”

“Why? So Eddie can tell me to go fuck myself again? No thanks.”

“Dude. Please. I’m too sick. Everyone’s been wanting to finish this campaign for a month.”

“Can’t they reschedule when you’re better.”

Well, yeah, probably. Eddie had been way more open to rescheduling since everything happened.

That would ruin his plan, though.

“C’mon, Steve! I’ll owe you!” He coughed to add to the drama of it all.

“Fine! Fine.” Steve sighed. “I hope you know you’re gonna lose.”

“Nah, it’s a team effort. Everyone will help you.”

“Sure.” Then, because Steve was Steve: “Need anything, Henderson?”

Dustin almost felt bad about what he was making Steve do. Almost.

“No, mom’s making me a broth soup to try to sip on.”

“Okay, call tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

If Dustin wasn’t as sick as he was, he probably would have tried to stay awake to call tonight.

But he fell asleep within minutes.

— — — — — — — —

“I’m sorry, you’re what?”

Steve rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “Filling in for Dustin. He’s sick.”

“You can’t do that.”

“He said I could.”

“He doesn’t run Hellfire, does he?”

“Shouldn’t he? Since you graduated?”

Eddie glared.

“If you two are done bickering like old ladies fighting over the same man in the nursing home, we have a campaign to finish,” Erica said from her seat, looking at her nails instead of at them.

“You heard Lady Applejack,” Eddie gestures towards the table.

Steve sat in the largest chair at the end and leaned back.

Everyone was staring at him.

“You’re not that dense. You can’t be.”

Steve looked up at Eddie with a smirk.

“Is there a problem?”

“That’s the DM seat. I’m the DM. Therefore, my seat.”

“It’s big enough to share. I like the view from here.”

“You can see all my notes from here!”

“Exactly.”

Eddie’s face was so red, it was a wonder he hadn’t exploded yet.

But he didn’t continue arguing. To Steve’s delight, and Dustin’s if he were there to see it, Eddie sat down on the edge of the chair. Steve scooted over a little, but they were pushing each other and being immature and stupid.

They both fell on their asses and Lucas finally spoke up.

“Can we just reschedule? This isn’t gonna work.”

“No. We’re so close. Dustin wouldn’t have sent Steve if he wanted us to reschedule.”

Eddie looked at Steve, searching his face for something. Whatever it was, he must’ve found it.

“Alright. Steve’s in my lap. Let’s go.”

He clapped and pulled himself back into the chair, patting his thigh and smiling at Steve.

“The whole game?”

“It’s this or Dustin’s spot over there.”

Steve wasn’t having that. He deserved this spot.

He stood up and sat down in Eddie’s lap, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered at being close enough to smell the shampoo Eddie used. Eddie’s hands settled on his hips to hold him in place while he leaned around to check his notes.

“Let’s begin!”

Luckily, Steve didn’t have to do much. The rest of the group kind of played for him, knowing he was just a warm body at the table.

And he was certainly warm.

Eddie’s hands had been finding new places to touch on his sides or legs or back or stomach all night. It was distracting. It was annoying. It was intoxicating and addicting and Steve never wanted to leave.

He was completely zoned out, barely registering he was supposed to be an active participant in this fucking game when he felt a light smack on his thigh.

He let out a whine.

And then reality came crashing in.

Everyone was staring at him with raised eyebrows. Eddie was completely still under him. He was mortified.

But he still didn’t want to get up.

He kind of just wanted to turn around and bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

As soon as he has the thought, his body is making it happen. ‘Your wish is my command,’ it’s saying in excitement.

Within seconds, his body is turned facing a shell-shocked Eddie, legs using the space between Eddie’s back and the back of the chair to wrap around his waist, and his face burying itself into his neck. He let out a much quieter whine, and felt his whole body relax.

A hand was on the back of his head, keeping him in place, and he sighed.

He could feel vibrations, like Eddie was speaking, but his head was cloudy and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was saying.

It didn’t really matter anyways. He was cozy and safe and relaxed for maybe the first time ever. Unless Eddie physically removed him from his spot, he wasn’t moving.

Time passed, but Steve couldn’t take a guess at how much.

“Stevie? You awake?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna get comfy?”

“Am.”

He felt Eddie laugh more than he heard it, but he just snuggled further into Eddie’s neck, bunching his shirt in his hands.

“Okay, I’m just gonna pick you up and go to the bedroom. It’ll be better to sleep.”

Sleep? Was it that late? Where was everyone else?

“Shhh. It’s okay. Just squeeze your legs around my waist and hold on.”

Steve followed his instructions to the letter and he could’ve sworn he heard Eddie whisper “good boy” into his ear, but that could’ve been wishful thinking.

The next thing he knew, Eddie was sitting on the edge of his own bed with Steve in the same position on his lap.

“Wanna get in comfy clothes?”

Steve shook his head.

He was so tired.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno. Week?”

“A week?! Steve…”

“Shhh. Sleepy.”

“No shit. You haven’t slept in a week.” Eddie sighed and then somehow managed to get them both settled in bed, Steve’s body almost entirely on top of Eddie’s. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

“Mkay.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, but he was already almost completely asleep.

— — — — — — —

“So he just…cuddled him? Right there at the table?”

Dustin couldn’t believe his plan worked and he wasn’t even there.

“It was awful,” Erica spit out.

“It was weird,” Lucas added.

“It was disgusting,” Mike said, pointing a glare at Dustin. “I wish I had the flu so I could’ve missed it.”

“And has anyone checked in on them since?”

Two days had passed and Dustin was finally able to keep solid foods down and his fever broke more than 12 hours before. His mom was even going to let him call Suzy later.

“Uh. Should we?”

“Lucas! Dude! They may have turned on each other.”

“Yeah, more like turned each other on,” Erica mumbled.

They all stared at each other, disgusted at the thought of their friend and babysitter being close.

“Gross.”

But Dustin smiled anyway. His plan finally worked.

[lucajayms]

i sincerely apologize for the rant

pre bullets gerard plsplsplspls!!!! they have an office crush at cartoon network then she moves away without telling anyone and they replace her (CUBICLES BEST SONG EVER) so then he just keeps wondering what may have happened, until mcr are playing like in another city during revenge era then mikey sees her in the crowd before a show and he goes to gerard right before going onstage and its like hey gerard remember that girl you talked about 24/7 in 2001, shes here tonight. and gee just freaks out while trying to play down the whole performance becase hes scared she wont like the whole fake blood/gay/screaming thing. then they finish the performance and he goes to find her and shes like all happy bc she knew he was gonna do much better things than to work at a shitty office. and shes a big comic book artist and does really weid like blood and vampire stuff so shes so happy that gerard also does weird blood vampire stuff. and then theyre happy and then the umbrella academy happens and yea

yea youre free to ignore this, i just have too much free time to imagine shit like this 👍

HELP I LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH!

-

CUBICLES

-

gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

-

masterlist

-

warnings: swearing!

-

"Maybe you could draw her more like this to bring out the background more so she's not just stiff," I instructed him. Gerard is a very talented artist, he just has a little bit of trouble deciding what to put where.

"But I feel like if she was a little different, due to her design, she'd go flat," Gerard argues, putting his pencil where he was describing.

I sigh as I place my hand delicately to my chin, trying to see what he's talking about. The deadline is soon and he's not done pitching these characters. "Honestly, Gerard? Whatever feels right. You'll get her."

"You sure?" He asks, seeking confirmation in my words.

I smile, nodding my head, "Yeah. Deadline is tomorrow, just do whatever feels right!" I say before I'm off to my cubicle to continue my project.

I knew he was looking at me. For weeks now, it had become a pattern—one I could almost draw if I could figure out how to capture that lingering gaze in ink. He thought he was subtle, keeping his distance and asking me barely relevant questions about some “project” or “character design” he’d been working on. Gerard was charming, though; there was no denying that. Quiet, a little too good at staring at his desk, and adorably oblivious to how easy it was to read him.

“Hey, uh, (Y/N)?” I looked up from my sketchbook, where I’d been mindlessly drawing a graveyard scene—something I had an odd fascination with lately. Gerard was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing that awkward half-smile that looked better on him than it should.

“Gerard,” I said, glancing up with a smirk. “To what do I owe the honor?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I…uh…just wanted to see what you were working on.”

I flipped my sketchbook shut, even though I knew he was dying to see what I’d been drawing. “Just some stuff. You’d probably think it’s too creepy.”

“Try me.”

Maybe it was because I wanted to test him, see how he’d react to what was under the surface, but I opened the book back up and turned it to face him. His eyes widened as he took in the vampires, blood, and dark cemeteries I’d sprawled across the pages.

“You…actually drew all of this?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my cool. “It’s not much. Just whatever’s in my head.”

He laughed, this soft, surprised sound. “Whatever’s in your head is amazing.” He paused, his eyes lingering a second too long.

I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “Well maybe not everything, Way.” I tossed my pen onto my desk, feigning nonchalance. “Can’t have too many weirdos like me around. Bad for the office’s reputation.”

And that's why I left.

Maybe I should’ve told him I was leaving. I hated the idea of going without a goodbye, but part of me figured I’d see him again. He’d get over it. Life had a way of carrying people in different directions, and honestly? I couldn’t stand the thought of another month behind that desk. I needed to be somewhere I could let these ideas out, somewhere that didn’t expect me to keep my weirdness behind a closed sketchbook.

The day I left, I watched the office fade from my rearview mirror, fingers tapping the steering wheel as a familiar guilt crept in. I didn’t leave him my number or my address or even a hint of where I’d gone. Some part of me hoped he’d figure it out. But after that, there was just silence.

Gerard

She left without a word. Just…gone. I tried to keep going like I didn’t notice, told myself it wasn’t a big deal. But the absence gnawed at me, creeping into every sketch and unfinished character. (Y/N) was gone, and I had no clue where she’d gone or why. I stopped asking questions after a while, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The thought became like an echo in my mind, constant and inescapable, pushing me to drown it out with anything I could find.

And I did.

One show after another, one drink, one line, whatever I could find to keep the silence at bay. The stage helped a little—at least there, I had the lights in my eyes and the noise blocking out the mess in my head. I’d stand in front of the crowd, hands dripping with fake blood, trying to exorcise whatever pieces of myself felt missing. But then the high would fade, and I’d be left in a dark room, trying to ignore the question that refused to die.

Where did she go?

I kept the band going, kept pretending it didn’t matter, kept letting the weight build. It wasn’t like I had any choice. The shows were packed, and the screams of the crowd felt like both a relief and a punishment. They had no idea. No idea that some days, it felt like I’d never get off this damn ride, that maybe I’d crash and burn right here. But something shifted in 2004. I couldn’t explain it—maybe it was seeing my friends’ faces or feeling the burn of another empty night. But I knew that if I kept going like this, I’d lose everything. I’d lose myself.

I finally made the decision to clean up, and in August 2004, I was clean. Free. My body hated me for it, and my brain wasn’t much friendlier, but I had to get clean. I couldn’t keep living on the edge of destruction. Every day after that, it felt like I was shedding pieces of the person I’d become just to survive. By the time I left, I was…well, I was alive. And that had to be enough.

It had been nearly a year since I’d gotten clean, and for the first time, it felt like I could really breathe on stage again. I could look out at the faces in the crowd and see them. Really see them, not just the blur of movement and lights I’d been numbing myself to. This was what I’d always wanted. This was where I wanted to be.

"MANHATTAN!" I scream into the mic and the crowd before more goes wild. "We are going to FUCK SOME SHIT UP TONIGH!"

And as I say that, Mikey plays the beginning of Give Em' Hell Kid. The set goes without hiccups, the crowd is perfect, and the most I've seen in a few weeks. Right as we leave the stage before the encore, Frank grabs me by my collar.

"Holy shit, Gee," He starts, and concern bubbles in my stomach. Did I do something wrong?

"What? What is it?"

He shakes his head vigorously, "I don't know if I'm tripping, but I swear to God I saw the girl you keep drawing in the crowd."

Fuck.

"What?!" I exclaim.

"Thirty seconds to encore!" One of the stagehands yells.

"Frank, where did you see her?" I ask, frantic. There's no possible way she could be here tonight. Why would she be here tonight.

"Our left, by the barricade. I think?" He explains, looking up to recount exactly where he saw her. My heart thuds against my ribcage as Frank’s words sink in, and I feel my throat tighten. (Y/N)? Here? After all these years?

"Ten seconds!" the stagehand yells, clapping his hands. Mikey shoots me a quick look, and Frank gives me a small, reassuring nod. There’s no time to think or even process—I’m barely holding onto the last traces of composure as we rush back on stage. I grab the mic, trying to get my focus back on the crowd, but every nerve in me is lit up, wondering if (Y/N) is really here tonight.

“MANHATTAN!” I shout again, forcing energy into my voice, hoping it’s enough to cover the wild surge of emotions that’s slamming through me. “YOU READY FOR ONE LAST ROUND?”

The crowd screams, and the band jumps into Helena, the encore I should be ready to pour my soul into. But all I can think about is her—her face, the way she used to sketch, her laugh. The lights are blinding, and I try to keep my focus on the crowd, but my eyes keep searching, desperate to find a glimpse of her. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but by the end of the song, I swear I see her—a flash of her hair, bright eyes, her face half-turned away in the crush of people, but unmistakably her.

The song ends, and we give a final shout before exiting the stage. As soon as we’re out of sight of the crowd, I turn to Frank, breathless.

“You’re absolutely sure it was her?” I ask, gripping his shoulder.

“Fuck, I don't know how accurate your drawings are,” he says, his voice serious. “Bit it was her, Gee. I’m sure of it.”

“Holy shit,” I breathe, running a hand through my hair as the adrenaline surges through me again. "Where do I even start looking?"

Frank raises an eyebrow. “I’d start by getting your ass back out there before she disappears again. You just finished the show. You’ve got maybe five minutes before the crowd starts spilling out.”

I don’t waste another second. I dart down the steps, half-running, half-pushing past crew members as I head toward the audience exit. It feels like the longest, most insane few minutes of my life, weaving through the backstage area until finally, I’m in the thick of the crowd, scanning every face I can. And then—I see her.

She’s lingering by the side of the barricade, glancing around, half-smiling to herself like she might leave at any moment. She’s a little older, a little different, but I’d know her anywhere. I take a deep breath, feeling my hands start to shake, and then I call out, loud enough to cut through the noise.

“(Y/N)!”

She turns, her eyes finding mine, and for a moment, it’s like everything around us goes still. Her face lights up, and I swear I feel that same electricity that ran between us in the office all those years ago.

"Oh my god, you guys did so good!" She laughed, too, shaking her head. “Gee, look at you! Rockstar Gerard. I always knew you’d end up doing something wild, but I never expected…” She gestured at my blood-stained shirt and smeared makeup. “This.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, heat creeping up my face. “Yeah, well, it’s, uh, a little different from Cartoon Network, that’s for sure. But I never thought I’d see you at a show.”

“Oh, please,” she grinned, giving me a playful nudge. “I knew you’d be doing something big. You were always too talented to be stuck behind a desk, remember?”

I laughed, surprised by the surge of relief that came with her words. “Guess it’s been a while since anyone told me that.”

She softened, and something flickered across her face. “I'm sorry I disappeared. I had to move, and things got in the way, and…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged, a little awkwardly. “I never thought we’d run into each other again.”

“Same here,” I admitted, looking down. “But I’m glad we did. Even if it’s, uh…” I glanced at my blood-streaked hands, shaking my head. “Like this.”

She laughed, a bright, genuine sound, and I felt my nerves ease a little. “Honestly, I kind of love it. I’m doing comics, Gee. Lots of, you know…gory, bloody, vampire stuff. Seems like we’re both into weird stuff now.”

“Every time I go into a comicbook store, I look for your name.” I say, feeling a familiar spark of admiration light up in my chest.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, but her smile told me she was proud. “I kept drawing, kept pushing for it, and here we are. I got some stuff out that's been somewhat successful, but you—you’re the one really living the dream.”

It felt surreal, standing there with her, years and miles from where we’d left off. She was still (Y/N)—the girl who got me, who somehow saw through everything. But she was different, too. Confident, sharp, like she’d grown in ways I never got to see. And she was right here.

We fell into silence, the crowd thinning around us. Finally, I took a deep breath. “You know, after you left…I wasn’t great, to be honest.”

Her brow furrowed, and she gave me a sympathetic look. “I figured,” she said quietly. “It was a pretty messed-up time for both of us.”

I nodded, knowing she got it. “Yeah, I got pretty lost for a while. It took me…a lot to get back on track, but I’m good now. Clean, you know? And I’m just trying to keep my head on straight, one show at a time.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. “Good,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “That’s what you deserve, Gerard. You don’t need anything dragging you down.”

I felt something click into place then—a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in years. “Thanks, (Y/N). Really.”

She grinned, glancing around like she was taking in the whole scene again. “Hey, I think we’re due for a major coffee catch-up. I want to hear everything.”

I chuckled, feeling that old sense of ease wash over me. “Deal,” I said, grinning back. “But only if you show me your sketchbooks. I wanna see all the vampire blood and gore.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “You got it. Only fair, since I’ve got a feeling you’ve been drawing me for years anyway.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and together, we walked out into the night, talking like no time had passed at all. And this time, I knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

(Y/N)

What a fucking life. Leaving Gerard like that in 2001 did something to me, you know? Fucked me up. I felt really fucking bad.

But it's okay. We're good. And by good? I mean my boyfriend is the fucking lead singer of My Chemical Romance. Like, who gets to say that?!

After their final tour ended, Gerard was bugging me more and more about his comic that he was writing and that he desperately wanted me to illustrate for it. Apparently, he had been working on it for around three years, and he wasn't getting anywhere by himself.

"I don't know, baby. I got deadlines," I always say, but God, who could say know to that pretty face of his.

And so I finally agreed to illustrate The Umbrella Academy.

And boy, did that change my life.

[hoshigray]

A Pricked Hand to Hold

Just thinking about h*lding h*nds with Miguel for the first time bc I'm still fucking soft for this man (like it's so bad).

An: Yup, it's been three weeks, and my infatuation for this man has yet to falter (or that movie in general bc I've seen it like 5-6 times already, and can't get tired of it). This was meant to be a little smthn, but I just wanted to get my soft aggression out of the way. Also, tysm for 1k followers again!! Like fr, y'all are too sweet :') Sacrificed sleep to get this done, sooooo hope you guys like it!! If there are spelling/grammar errors, my dumbass will take care of it tmrw bc I need to take a fckin nap right tf now ahhhhhh— Also! Gonna make an ATSV masterlist later today, so I'll be sure to link it when it's done!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - h*nd h*lding (barf) - the reader is implied to be in college (at least age 20) - you and Miguel aren't together [yet] but the pining is strong in this one! - Lyla and Jessica teasing you lovestruck idiots lol - you accidentally prick yourself with your lead pencil, but no blood or injuries - ayo you and Miguel almost kiss tho??

Wc: 2.1k

As usual, it was a busy day at headquarters. Many anomalies have been captured for Margo to send back home, Spiders helping other Spiders fight off evil-doers and placing them back in their universes, and Pavitr having a scare nearly revealing his identity to his girlfriend, Gayatri.

Then there's you, sitting at a table doing your homework that needs to be finished for the lecture tomorrow. But you're not alone. In front of the table are three others discussing matters of their own. Lyla is giving new information about another anomaly that needs to be captured before going home, and Jessica's leaning on her motorbike listening to her pixel friend. Right next to her is another taller person listening along as well.

Miguel O'Hara — leader of the Spider Society and the man you've been pining for a while now.

You've been working here for a few months, taking in Margo's shifts or helping Lyla relay messages to other Spiders across the multiverse. At first, you've tried to keep it simple and only see it as a job. But the more you work here, the closer you get to others...and your boss, Miguel, is no exception.

Things started short and blunt with him between you two — just simple greetings and exchanges of the necessary information. But then there was a time when the man was in HQ for far too long, probably sacrificing too much sleep and time to eat that day. So, you got him something from the cafeteria and a little note telling him to "Take care of yourself, leader!" before going home.

From that day on, you and Miguel got closer slowly but surely. Not only does he appreciate you reminding him to take breaks or grab something to eat, but he also checks up on you whenever it's your shift, talks to you on his breaks, or eats dinner with you whenever he has a chance (or when he's not stressed out).

And how you talk to each other is much more comfortable and personal. Sure, you're still respectful of his position and are aware of his duties, but it's always a guilty pleasure when he spends his little free time with you. Unfortunately, you've developed feelings for the tall and brawny Spiderman due to this.

You know how complicated it is to have feelings for someone, especially within the work field, so this is something that you have no faith in whatsoever. But for some reason, you can't help but think something between the two of you is starting to bloom...and based on his actions, maybe Miguel feels the same way as well? Lyla and Jessica tease you, saying it's plain to see that even Pav fangirls about you two.

".../n."

However, for a man like him, is such a thing possible?

"Y/n."

Your thoughts vanish as you turn to the person calling for your attention, just to find it's from Miguel. The two women are nowhere to be found, probably tending to other matters you didn't catch because of your overthinking.

"Yes!" you stutter a reply. Oh God, I hope I didn't make him call on me so many times...

"Done with your homework?" He asks while coming to your side of the table.

You give him a nod, fidgeting with your mechanical pencil. "Yeah, I took care of the stuff for my classes tomorrow. Now I just got a paper to finish by Friday...What about you? Gonna head out soon?"

"I would, but I gotta stay here in case Jess needs backup for the mission. She just left to fix up her bike before she goes."

A chuckle sneaks past you, and Miguel swoons at the sound of it. "Are you sure you wanna do that? Didn't Lyla keep bothering you the last time?"

You can tell he reminisces the time you recall; his sigh and a shake from the lead confirm so. "Yeah, well, when is she not bothering me."

"Heard that." The woman appears in front of him quickly before disappearing again, leaving Miguel a little puzzled before a slight scowl paints his face. Yet it's not so bad when he sees you laugh at the interaction.

"I swear," your giggles wear down, but your smile remains. "It's like you two are siblings or something. But that just means the pestering comes from a place of love."

He hums at your words. "Yeah, love..."

For the past few months, you've been a reoccurring theme in Miguel's life that he thought he'd never experience again. From the day he met you, he figured keeping his distance and maintaining an appropriate work relationship would benefit him. But he was a fool to challenge your beauty and welcoming aura whenever you entered the scene. Especially your kind gestures, starting with the food and your little note for him.

It was apparent then that avoidance would do more harm to himself than good, so he spent his days getting to know you more, understanding you more, appreciating you more...and worse, loving you more.

An emotion such as love has been something that's only brought up painful memories and anguish. And for that reason, Miguel has chosen to dedicate his life and being to doing something he's good at — his job protecting the multiverse. Because, in his eyes, it's the only thing he seems capable of. Not love.

...However, whenever you look at him, speak to him, or smile at him, Miguel can't fight the twinge of his heart longing for something — longing for you. And he knows he isn't the only one who thinks so since Lyla constantly ridicules him about his "schoolboy crush," just like a sibling.

Nonetheless, he still doesn't go far from the talks you share with him or the times you eat together in a friendly manner. Because that's what he and you are comfortable with, and he wouldn't want to break it. Yet he can't help but wonder what would happen if he was just a little more selfish.

Be more selfish and pursue you...without losing you.

"OUCH!!"

Without hurting you.

Miguel's thoughts are immediately halted when he hears your hurtful cry. You drop your pencil and grab your finger as you wince through the pain. And he wastes no time coming to your proximity to examine what happened. "What!? Something wrong?"

"Ahhhh, yeah, I'm fine," You reassure him with an attempted smile. "I just accidentally pricked myself with my pencil."

"Let me see."

The words take a long to register before the man takes your hand in his, the back of your hand resting on his palm while he surveys your fingers. He then sees a tiny circle indent on your middle finger. "I don't see any pieces of lead."

"Oh, thank goodness," you exhale in relief. "Because I don't think I'd survive tomorrow if I did. I got three lectures that day!"

Miguel chortles at your comment, and it has the beat of your heart quicken. "So sorry for you."

Your smile is still prominent. "Thank you, Miguel."

"Don't mention it."

Silence follows those words, yet they're substituted with gazes between you and the man. The twinge on your lips slowly dissolves the more you lose yourself in his burnt amber eyes. The same goes for Miguel, who still has your hand in his.

The internal turmoil in his mind doesn't ease at that fact, incapable of deciphering whether to let go. And when your hand slowly reciprocates the hold — turning it for both palms to face each other — his breath hitches.

"Miguel..." his name appeared in a whisper, only for him to hear. Your breathing goes shaky when he replies with his fingers intertwined with yours. And you notice him take a tense gulp, easing your nerves to know that he's also nervous.

He knows he shouldn't be this close to you as it could jeopardize the relationship you have spent all these months building and maintaining together. However, this is the first time he's been so close to you, touching you. And his heart pushes him to want more.

He knows he shouldn't...but curiosity is an intriguing dance. That's why he slowly leans forward to you.

And you go rigid by the notion...yet your eyes are drawn to his lips, and you follow suit by going inward. Eyes close, letting the moment take place for itself.

"Ready, Miguel?"

Nevermind.

Both eyes open immediately, and locked hands are withdrawn from each other. Miguel puts on his mask quickly, but you could still see a slight flush of pink on his cheeks and ears before they were covered up. You straighten yourself and look to the other side of the table to see Jessica on her motorbike entering the scene.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

"Oh—" the woman spots you two before Miguel stands straight up, and she doesn't try to hide the smile that creeps on her face. "Oh. Was I interrupting something?"

"No." You two say in unison. Jess only lifts a brow through her yellow goggles. You continue with an explanation while you pack up your stuff. "I accidentally pricked my finger with my mechanical pencil, so Miguel checked it out to see if I had any lead on it."

"Ooh, yeah, those aren't fun. Basically like a splinter." Before Jessica could say more, Lyla appeared in everyone's line of sight.

"Good, you two are still here." She jumps around between Jessica and Miguel. "The anomaly we discussed earlier has jumped to another dimension as predicted; better get them now so we can go home."

The two nod while you get up from the table with your backpack. "Good luck out there, guys." You address the older three before exiting for the night, and they all say their goodbyes to you.

For a few seconds, your eyes linger on Miguel. Despite the mask covering his face, his gaze was intense and palpable. Without saying a word, you let your eyes say your final words before turning to leave.

Miguel still watches you leave until he's unable to spot you through the dark hall. And unfortunately for him, he can feel two pairs of eyes on him. He mentally prepares himself before looking at the two women who harbor shameless grins. "What's with the faces?"

Lyla and Jessica only share a look amongst themselves and shrug before answering him. "Oh, I don't know, Miguel." The pixelated woman darts close to the man. "What's with your face?"

"Wh-What are you—"

"C'mon now, Miguel." Jessica cuts him off. "Seems like something more was going on than just a pricked finger."

He sighs. "Well, you're wrong. Because that's all it was." The two share another look with each other as their smirks go higher.

"Oh~, my darling Miguel," Jessica changes her voice to a higher pitch and daydream tone. "I wish you luck on your mission and that you return to see me tomorrow~."

"Don't you worry, my wonderful Y/n," Despite Miguel's eyes narrowing at Lyla's terrible impression of his voice, she still acted out the role. "I will return to you unscathed and have you in my loving arms in no time~."

"I don't talk like that." The two women chuckle at his blunt statement. "How old do you think I am?"

"Old enough to look like a man but still scared to talk to your lil' crush." Jessica crosses her arms with a matter-of-fact attitude, her smile itching broader when Miguel rolls his eyes through the mask.

"Ay, por Dios, can we please open the portal already?" The poor man can only take so much teasing from the two, making him feel like he should've left with you instead.

Lyla giggles one last time before Jessica uses her watch to open a portal to the desired dimension. "Whatever you say, lover boy." The portal opens, and a flash of colors and shapes contrasts with the dull room. Jessica is the first to go, Miguel following right behind her.

Even when going on his mission, his mind can't stop thinking about you and the moment you shared together earlier. It was a risky thing to have happened, and he scolds himself for letting such a thing happen. Miguel knows he isn't a person for love, for it's something meant to be destroyed by his very touch. You are no exception; the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He loves you too much to put you through that.

But then the compliance and willingness you've expressed in holding his hand surely meant that you wanted something more, right?

If Miguel were selfish enough, he'd use that as a hint. A hint to look forward to what other things you'd allow him to express to you.

If he were selfish enough, he would plan to approach you tomorrow in the right way.

If he were selfish enough, he'd test out the waters more and finally let this "love" flourish into something better.

[imtrashraccoon]

Uh, this one I had planned from the beginning and I honestly love how it turned out. It definitely got away from me though.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Dust - Vibe Check

Word Count: 1,865

As you entered your apartment, you closed and locked your front door. For a moment you debated putting the deadbolt in place before just doing it, as you never knew what could happen nowadays.

With a sigh, you slipped off your shoes and hung up your coat. Today had been exhausting and your back was killing you from sitting in those office chairs for so long. Still, you could relax now, at least until you had to return to the dreaded grind tomorrow morning. The moment you turned around though, you gasped.

Dust was sitting on your couch.

His skull was propped by his arms and he was hunched forward in a way that couldn't be comfortable for long. He was sitting so still, that you couldn't tell if he even knew you were there or not.

"Hey... Are you okay, buddy?" you asked carefully.

He shifted and glanced up at you, although he was still clutching his skull with his gloved hands. Did he have a headache? There were dark grooves underneath his eye sockets reminiscent of eye bags that humans got when they didn't sleep well. His mismatched eyelights seemed quite as well and almost glossed over, like he wasn't quite focusing on you, or anything else for that matter.

His gaze seemed to pierce through to your soul and yet, he said nothing. It was almost as if the person you knew as Dust wasn't actually there at the moment and you were looking into the hollow eye sockets of a husk.

"Oh boy... I'm gonna guess that you've had a rough day so far."

He didn't respond.

You shifted uncomfortably under his steady gaze and looked around for anything that might solve the mood of Mr. Spooky Scary. "Do you...mind if I just go get changed out of these work clothes? I'll be right back, okay?"

You didn't expect an answer and didn't receive one either. So, you decided to just give him a bit of space for a few minutes while you settled down a little now that you were home. At least he seemed passive at the moment and not hostile like you'd previously witnessed.

Once you were in comfy clothes, you re-entered the living room and found Dust in much the same position you'd left him in. You elected to unpack your bag and put things away though before trying to interact with him further.

Although, you couldn't help hating the silence and decided to try to engage in conversation with him. "I had a bad day too. I mean, it probably wasn't as bad as yours but still... I get it," you said quietly.

No response.

"One of my coworkers neglected to finish a report last week and the client practically raised hell until we got it done. So the big boss has been on us all day."

You sighed and shook your head, "It's frustrating getting punished for a problem an idiot caused that I had no involvement in."

Dust was still ignoring you, or at least, you couldn't tell if he was actually listening or not. Maybe you should try cheering him up? Although, you'd have to do something to shock him out of his current staring contest with the floor first.

You had to be careful not to startle him too badly though as you generally quite liked being alive. Plucking a small throw pillow from its place on the couch, you hesitated for a moment before actually following through with your "prank."

You lightly smacked the top of his skull with the pillow; not nearly hard enough to hurt of course, just to get his attention.

"Vibe check."

He was startled more than you'd expected and sort of jumped to get away from your rather pathetic assault. His eyelights flickered wildly before focusing on you and his expression morphed into one of annoyance.

"what are you-!?"

You hushed him with an outstretched finger and pursed your lips in a thoughtful way. "Hm...your vibe seems...annoyed and bewildered," you said in the most serious tone you could muster.

"no kidding! do you have no survival instincts or something?!" Dust growled.

You tilted your head and pretended to think for a moment. "Huh... Considering Axe once asked me pretty much the same question, no... I think they're probably broken, at least when it comes to skeletons anyways."

He stared at you in disbelief before collapsing back against the backrest of the couch. "well that explains a lot..." he muttered and ran a gloved hand over his face.

You frowned slightly as you studied him. It really bothered you to see him, or anyone for that matter, upset like this. He'd come here on purpose though so that must mean he actually wanted to be with you. However, you were a little confused why, as he hadn't been exactly nice in the few interactions you'd had so far with him.

Sitting down on the couch next to him, you reached over and gently put your hand on his arm. "I'm sorry for scaring you like that just now, Dust. If you need to talk about whatever's bothering you, I'm here, okay?"

He shook his skull and remained silent.

You stayed there for a few seconds but when he didn't respond further, you decided to let it go. You'd tried, but if he didn't want to tell you, then you couldn't make him. Just as you withdrew your hand though, he seemed to realize that you'd actually touched him and his mismatched eyelights flicked over to you.

"how do you do that?"

"Do what?"

He vaguely gestured with his hands in the space between you two. "that...thing... how..." He seemed to be having a hard time articulating his thoughts all of the sudden. "how do you make your intent so...gentle...?"

Now you were also confused. "I don't know? Is it not usually like that?"

He stared at you blankly like you'd just asked an incredibly dumb question. "no...it's not. most humans only utilize it to attack other people."

"Oh."

"did someone teach you or something?"

You shook your head slowly. "No...? I don't have magic so I wasn't ever considered for mage training."

"so you just do this? like all the time and you never noticed? in fact, not even a monster noticed before now?" His tone of voice sounded skeptical but there was also a twinge of disbelief.

"I suppose so..." You crossed your arms when his jaw fell open slightly in shock. "What? I don't have any monster friends besides you and Axe, okay? I'm basically a shut in except for when I need to go to work or go shopping."

"wow...you're actually crazy..." He shook his skull and lightly massaged his temples. "my headache is only getting worse just listening to you..."

"Oh, is that what's bothering you then?" you asked, purposely ignoring his insult.

Dust sighed and frowned at you. "it's one thing i guess...among many others..." he muttered.

You gave him a warm smile in return. "If it'll help you feel better to tell someone, I don't mind."

He muttered something unintelligible and quickly looked away.

"Sorry?"

"fine... just...give me your hand back..." he grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow but held out your hand again.

He hesitated and then reached over, wrapping his pinkie finger around your own. You didn't make any comment and just waited patiently.

"do you know what lv is?"

His voice sounded rather hollow all of the sudden, like all previous emotions had bled away, and you felt a small chill pass down your spine. You did know what LV was, or at least you vaguely knew, thanks to general magic education in school anyways.

"Yeah," you murmured. "Levels of Violence, right?"

He nodded slowly. "do you know what happens to someone with too much lv?"

You didn't like where he was going with this, but you had basically promised to listen to whatever he had to say and weren't about to back out now.

"I'm afraid I don't... They never covered it in school beyond how bad it was to get."

He let out a bitter sounding laugh. "figures..."

A few moments passed before he spoke again. "it's like an addiction... once you have some, you want more, and more, and more... and if you don't get more...well, you go through withdrawals."

You grimaced at the mental picture his rambling brought on. It sounded awful to go through and you couldn't help the immense wave of concern for him that washed over you.

"So, that's why you came here?" you asked.

"yeah..." he murmured, although his voice sounded a little hoarse all of the sudden. "my skull feels like it's gonna explode and my idiot colleague was being annoying."

"Can I try to help you?"

He looked over at you again with surprise almost plastered across his skull. It disappeared quickly and he regained his trademark neutral expression.

"sure, whatever, knock yourself out..." he said with a shrug.

You went to stand up but hesitated when you realized his pinky was still linked with yours. He noticed as well and quickly pulled his hand away, ducking further into his hoodie as he did so. You restrained yourself from teasing him over this school kid behaviour, for now anyways.

First thing on the agenda was to make the room darker and you turned out the lights except for the one in the kitchen for now. It wasn't too dark outside yet, although you didn't want to potentially trip over something when it did get.

"Do you want some water or maybe tea?"

"water's fine."

"And do you prefer an ice pack or a hot bean bag?"

He seemed to mull this over for a moment. "ice pack would be better," he finally said with a shrug.

You disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the items. The ice pack was easy to prepare and the glass of water was even easier. After you'd wrapped the ice pack in a soft cloth, you returned to the living room with the water.

Dust glanced up when you approached but said nothing. You sat down and gave him the items, which he excepted and downed half the water in moments.

You couldn't help but stare at him as he did so. Where did the liquid go? Was he like a bottomless pit or something?

He quickly noticed your staring and shot you a weird look. "what?"

You felt your cheeks heat up from embarrassment and shook your head. "Sorry...I was just thinking is all," you muttered.

A moment later though, you had a question. "Would a head massage be of any benefit for you?"

He seemed actually intrigued by this and pondered it over for a moment. "can't hurt i suppose."

"Then just turn a little so I can actually reach you, okay?"

You spent the next few hours just sitting together in relative silence. Dust was surprisingly mellow considering your first encounter and he basically just tolerated whatever you did. When supper time came, you got up to go make something for the both of you.

He was gone when you turned to ask if he had any particular food preferences though.

[cyanide-mustard]

Chapter 8 ~ I don't have the words to describe (how much you mean to me)

On Ao3:

Chapter 8: James Falls

Summary:

James has always been a little clumsy and prone to falling

Notes:

AN: Guys I’m finally writing a chapter from mostly James’ perspective! When I started this chapter, like a month ago, I thought it was gonna be the hardest thing in the world, now that I'm editing I have no idea what I was so worried about lol. I also learned that wife beaters are also called wife pleasers and I just have to laugh at how fitting that is for Jayce.   This chapter has no translations for James. Let me know what you guys think! :)

James wakes up with the sun shining through her room. She feels better the past couple days than she has in weeks. 

Has she felt safe and secure with Jayce and Viktor? Absolutely! 

Has she felt secure and comfortable in her ability to understand and speak Piltovian? Absolutely not

It’s only been a recent development that she’s been able to be articulate enough to let her personality shine through. This had led to Viktor and Jayce learning that James is a yapper, (literally by trade, being an interpreter and all). Jayce (Yapper #1) and Viktor (Yapper #2) were absolutely ecstatic to learn this and James (Yapper #3) was involved in every yap session from that point on. 

Her life in Piltover is new, getting thrown into a new city, a new universe, and not speaking a word of an unknown language was terrifying. However, someone blessed her by throwing her into the paths of the two kindest men she had ever known. Life Jayce and Viktor may be new, but living with the two of them felt like exactly where she should be…. Well there was something off. Sometimes there was a feeling that she was missing something, but she could never place what it was. It felt like there were two pieces of a puzzle missing and she was searching under the couch to find it.    

Emerging from her room, she gulps when she sees Jayce, still in his loose pajama pants and white (almost see-through) wife pleaser, making breakfast. 

James takes a seat at the barstool. 

“Where’s Viktor?”

“He’s just finishing getting ready, I’m going to change once he’s done” he says while plating his recreation of the breakfast they ate the other day in the restaurant, 

“Thank you, it smells delicious”

“Anytime,” he says with a proud grin, “Speak of the devil,”

She looks up at their bedroom door, only to be absolutely starstruck by the sight of Viktor in a white loose fitting button up shirt, his usual tie was foregone today. The first three buttons were still undone so she could see the wonderful curve of his collarbone and the middle of his chest. The sleeves were rolled up just below his elbow and the way the veins slightly popped on his arms and hands made her want to drool. The shirt tucked into…jeans. Viktor was wearing a pair of wide jeans secured by a belt that did nothing to hide his waist and James just had to sit there, trying to pretend like she wasn’t coming up with the most inappropriate scenarios in her mind. Speak of the devil indeed. 

That’s when the first piece snapped into place. That’s what she was missing. She was missing the feeling of Viktor’s fingers in her pussy, curling in on that soft part of flesh inside her while his thumb worked circles on her clit. 

She was only brought out of her own head by the hand waving in front of her. 

“-mes?”

“What?” She knew her cheeks were probably bright pink by now.

“I asked if you and Jayce were still planning on going to the market tomorrow? Are you okay?”

Jayce was no longer in the room. When had he left? 

“Ummm yes…to both”

If she was having a hard time even holding a conversation with him, how would she last a day at the lab. 

She stared down at her plate. Only looking up when she heard Jayce’s footsteps enter the room again. 

When she looked up the last piece clicked into place. 

Jayce was the opposite of Viktor today. He wore a tight fitting dark green shirt with sleeves that stopped just above his elbows. The shirt was tight around his chest and James liked to imagine that if he breathed a little too hard that it would pop open. The column of his neck was open for her to see and it was all she could do to stop herself from sinking her teeth into his throat right there and then. Along with the shirt, he wore a thick belt and a pair of straight leg pants that reminded her how thick his thighs were. She could probably get off just by rubbing up and down his thighs. 

She was going to burst into flames on the spot. 

“James, are you okay?! Your face is red” he touched the back of his hand to her forehead “and you’re incredibly hot! Are you running a fever?”

Her face flushed even more at Jayce's unintended compliment.

“No I am ok, I think I just need to change or something, it is very hot today”

“It’s barely 20 degrees” he mumbled confused but James wasn’t listening, she was already back in her room.

James missed Viktor’s satisfied smirk. 

She strips her pants and long sleeve shirt, pulling out a skirt and more summery shirt to put on instead. With all pieces clicked into place she can now see the whole picture, and it’s a lewd photo of her fucking Jayce and Viktor. She holds her head in her hands.

“Oh my god, I want to fuck both of them” she whispers, just loud enough for herself; wanting to speak it outloud to confirm it to herself but not for anyone else to hear. She always thought Jayce and Viktor were attractive, thought it since the moment she met them but there were always more pressing matters that took majority of her thoughts and then she tried to banish any of those thoughts once she realised once they were together romantically. Today had just been a reminder of how attractive the two of them were.

“James? Are you okay? If you’re not feeling well you can stay home?”

She makes a beeline to the front door not looking at the two boys again. 

“No I am good, let’s go” 

She has her shoes on and is practically out the door before they have even blinked. 

At the lab, James spends her time finding what the limit is to how red a person’s face can turn and if she can turn into a tomato. Whenever Jayce places his hand on her shoulder, she blushes. Whenever Viktor calls her over, which he seems to say in a honeyed tone, she blushes. When Jayce tells her a stupid joke, she blushes. When Viktor asks for her opinion on something, she blushes. She’s blushing so often she wonders if she’s actually starting to run a fever. She’s fidgety the entire time from how painfully turned on she is. A little after lunch she goes on a walk by herself to clear her mind. Which was nice until the skies opened up and it started pouring rain, leaving her drenched. 

When she sets foot back in the lab, the boys take in her appearance. 

“You’re soaking wet lásko” Viktor said in a low tone. He was correct in more than one way, although he didn’t know it, but this pushed her over the edge. 

“I know, I do not feel well, especially now that my clothes are wet. I have decided to go home”

Jayce reaches for his bag.

“We’ll come with you” 

“No!” she says alarmingly fast. “I mean, thank you but could I maybe get two hours to have a shower, maybe take a nap, have some time to myself?”

“Of course, we will leave in a couple hours and have dinner when we arrive,” Viktor passes her a small tarp, the best thing they have in the lab to protect against the rain, to cover her head on the way back, “Here, take this. It won’t keep you warm but at least you won’t get…wetter”

She stills at that last word but seeing the corner of his mouth lift up in a soft genuine smile keeps her moving. 

James races home, opening the door and stripping out of her wet clothes, moving herself to the bed. She didn’t lie when she said she wasn’t feeling well. It was just that she wasn’t feeling well because her body was on fire with arousal. They didn’t even do anything, she created these perverse fantasies of her friends who ARE DATING EACH OTHER all on her own. Her friends who took her in and have been nothing but kind to her and now she was imagining both of them fucking her. 

“God I’m disgusting” she says but continues bringing her left hand to her throat, imagining it’s Viktor’s, and her right to breasts, imagining that one is Jayce’s. “Viktor” brought his hand down to her other breast, teasing her nipple while “Jayce” slowly moved his hand down to her hips. She would beg him just to touch her more, beg both of them for the relief she craved. Beg Viktor for his sharp tongue on her clit and Jayce’s thick fingers inside her. 

“Oh fuck,” Letting out a string of moans.

Her climax built fast and broke slow, her fingers grew tired and made lazy circles around her clit. 

She laid on the bed for a minute, catching her breath and processing her thoughts. She felt guilty, being into both of them but as long as she didn’t act on her emotions the guilt wouldn’t grow. Plus it was just sexual attraction, it would fade with a couple days (or weeks), it wasn’t like she was in love with them or anything. No definitely not, they were all just good friends. 

She got up to clean up the mess of herself and clothes. She took a shower, put on comfy clothes and promptly fell asleep in her bed. 

James woke up to the sound of the kettle boiling and the aroma of something hearty being cooked. She was eternally grateful that both boys' cooking was always delicious and rich with spices, even though she would never complain even if it wasn’t. 

Before she could even get out of bed, Jayce was walking in with a warm cup of mint tea, and if the spoon was any indication, he remembered she liked a spoon of honey in her tea. Following in behind was Viktor with a bowl of freshly grated ginger and a spoon of garlic. 

“Eat this lásko” Viktor said as he pressed the spoon to her lips, his instructions she followed promptly. “good girl”

Her ears turned pink at his muttering. 

“How are you feeling?” Jayce asked earnestly.

“Oh um… better now” she did feel slightly better but not for the reasons Jayce probably thought.

“You look better”

“Are you saying I looked bad?” she was baiting him with a raised brow.

“No no, I just meant-”

Viktor interrupted with a cackle

“There’s our James, she’s definitely better now” he turned walking back to the kitchen, “dinner will be ready in 5”

Jayce stayed behind in the room, placing his hand on her knee.

“I was worried. You didn’t look bad, you never do, you just seemed…off. I was just-” the concerned expression on his face let her know that he was thinking of when she shut herself out from them. She remembered the way he looked at her at the library, and though he was upset with her, she could see he was mostly concerned, “you know we want you here?”

“Yes” she takes his hand, standing up and walking into the other room, “You know I want to be here right?”

Jayce grins, showing the small gap in his teeth that she thinks is adorable. 

Viktor brings her bowl to the table and places it in her usual spot, a small spoon to the right of the bowl and her water with a lemon wedge in it.   

A small thought passes through her head, so small until it grows and strikes her so suddenly that she has to remember how to breath. This is what it is to be loved.

The small spoon, the mint tea with just the exact amount of honey she likes, her favourite spot in the lab, the charcoal in the living room so if she ever wants something familiar it’s in their home, and so much more.

Viktor knows how much she can get in her own head sometimes and he knows just how to get her out every single time. Jayce knows to look out for her cause sometimes she forgets to drink water for days or when it's time to go to bed. 

Just as she knows that her words reassure Viktor, and sometimes just sitting next to him while working will make him feel better. Just as she knows to check on Jayce, because he’ll remember to take care of everyone but himself. 

She then feels two very strong emotions at the same time. The warm feeling of being loved and being in love, and the sick feeling in her gut that she won’t be able to keep this love for as long as she’d accept, until her heart stops beating, or as long as she’d like, the end of the world itself and maybe not even then. Until the stars in her eyes faded when she looked at them, which would be never. 

She takes a breath, looks at Jayce and Viktor, then decides that thoughts of the end of the world can wait. For all she’s concerned, when she’s here with them, when they see her soul as she sees theirs, every moment is infinity.

Translation for Viktor:

Lásko = love

Notes:

Please let me know what you think! Any love or feedback is always welcomed!

Taglist: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore

[dee-the-red-witch]

how did you get past “just being gnc”? asking for me, i’ve been in that mindset on and off for years. if you don’t mind sharing

I... okay, look, that's like a question with two other subtextual ones rolled up into it in a donut all at once. And I have an all-day road trip tomorrow, so I don't have a ton of spoons to spare, but I'm still gonna try and tackle all three. And I'm gonna hit the subtext questions first, because they're important and play into it. 1. What's a good way to come out as trans?

There fucking isn't one. For anyone of any gender. There is no perfect way for anyone to come out. It will always be awkward, there's always going to be some kind of price to pay, and you are never going to know that full price up front. It's also just about always less than the price of NOT coming out, though. 2. What's a good way for *ME* to come out as trans?

Okay, this one ties into my own story some, but the shorter version? I don't know. I can't tell you. Because I don't know your details and what's going to work for you or how. What I can tell you is that nobody is going to magically guess it for you, no one's going to give you permission to do it, and you're gonna have to start it yourself. There's folks that will absolutely help later down the line, but you have to initiate and start things, even if it's babysteps. Case in point... 3. ENOUGH SUBTEXT, DENICE, how'd YOU get past just being a guy?

It's complicated. I'd been in denial since the late 90's. so there was a LOT of personal bullshit, and art, and other work, and everything, packed up in and around my gender like mad. Like a wad of gum with a bunch of other stuff stuck to it- and sometimes when a piece finally got pulled free, part of the gum came up with it. Bad analogy, probably. Still. When I finished writing, and laying out, and publishing my first book (and practically screaming HI! IT ME! AM TRANS! in the afterword and other bits, because that's what happens when I write a historical horror novel with a GNC-transmasc-ish protag) I felt empty. Hollow. For months. I was trying and struggling to get a second book off the ground, and having this weight start settling over my head. Only it was like three months early for my usual denial ideation episode. Meanwhile, on facebook, my friend J who was dealing with the tail end aftershocks of a nasty divorce from an even nastier asshole. And of course she was going off about a very rational distrust and dislike of Men and some of their behaviors in particular, and I just had that goddamn black wave of ideation set in on me in full and was mentally internally screaming "But I'm not a fucking man!" and I did the one thing I'd never done in twenty plus years of dysphoria, denial and ideation. I said it out loud. Nobody in the apartment to even hear me. But I said it. And repeated it. And so help me, that depression/denial/ideation wave that I knew was going to end with me hurting myself or worse started immediately fading. I started switching my pronouns over to they/them on my social medias almost immediately. Like I said. Baby steps. But it was enough- one of my partners noticed the update and flat out asked me about it the next time she was over, and that's how I ended up coming out as nonbinary to both her and the rest of my immediate family. And a few days later online all over as well. Realizing I was a girl took a bit, because enby felt right, but not all the way right. I'd started t-blockers already because I knew I had dysphoria issues (just no idea how serious they were) and then started E. All of which was made easier by being in an informed-consent state and having a doctor who had zero issues with prescribing them, and more than a little bit of a mad scientist nature. Three days into Estrogen I just had this one weird moment of driving and hitting a sunny patch of road and suddenly I was happy and laughing in a way I'd NEVER been. That's when it started really clicking for me. When I realized that what had been holding me back was a lot of internalized shame and conditioning that I needed to unpack and get rid of. That's all where I started. (and yes, it meant a whole extra round of comings out and updates and everything, but well, here I am.) I hope that wall of text helps some? But yeah. Take baby steps. Things move from there as you figure it out. But you can't figure it out while you're holding yourself back.

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed after his first f1 qualifying session, australia - march 17, 2007 (transcription under the cut)

Lewis: "I was fairly relaxed. I think I probably surprised myself, how relaxed I was. There is a lot of pressure on me from the outside, the world, and from everyone in here, from the team, but at the end of the day I put more pressure on myself to succeed. I wanna win in this business. I'm not here to finish second, and so… But there's a certain way you have to do it. You can't go in all guns blazing, wanting to qualify on pole in your first qualifying session. You need to go step by step, and I think fourth, you've got a good pit strategy. We are quite ready, and so I'm looking forward to tomorrow." Interviewer: "Are you starting to feel at all the pressure of all that extra expectation?" Lewis: "Probably the biggest shock is just how much attention you get. When I leave the paddock or when I'm in the paddock, everyone's looking, and it's obviously just trying to just have tunnel vision and try not to make too much eye contact and get distracted." Interviewer: "What was the first exchange you had with Fernando Alonso after that session finished?" Lewis: "Immediately. When we finished we were on the weighing scales, and he was just behind me, and he tapped me on the back and said congratulations, and same for him. He did a great job. I think we've both done the best job we probably could do for the team, and I think we've both, again, got good strategy, so we're in good step." Interviewer: "What is gonna be the approach? What is gonna be the mindset? We're all familiar with your GP2 style of competing and racing. Do you carry that sort of style into Formula 1?" Lewis: "I think so. At the end of the day that is my style, but it's a lot harder to overtake in Formula 1, let me assure you that. So all these people said, there's no overtaking in Formula 1. It's extremely tough. You lose so much downforce, and the thing is when you're able to carry so much speed through corners, you just lose that aero balance and you're almost tiptoeing when you're beind someone, and it's so easy to come off and make a mistake." Interviewer: "You've dreamt about the day, you've dreamt about the opportunity. What do you expect the first few laps, certainly, to be like?" Lewis: "I hope it's similar to what I've expected before in GP2. I'm pretty sure… No. I'm sure that all the drivers are extremely professional, as they were in GP2, and so there should be quite a steady first lap. Hopefully we get a good start, but it's all about having a clean first lap, and then carrying that on and just keep on pushing. I'll be pushing 110% all the way." Interviewer: "Well it's the best qualifying performance by a British rookie driver on his Formula 1 debut in well over fifty years, so that's one target achieved. What is the target for the race?" Lewis: "Target for the race is obviously to score as many points as possible, but… I'm trying to take things step by step, so scoring as many points as possible. Whether that means a podium or not, we don't know, but if I'm out of the top three, still, if I get points that'd be great. But a podium, then a win. It's got to move on from that way." Interviewer: "It's going great so far. We wish you the best." Lewis: "Thank you very much."

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

esmp2 fwhimmy perchance 🔥

so sorry about the wait! /gen please have some silly domestic fwhimmy for the inconvenience :>

Jimmy huffed out a breath, setting the final measuring cup on the counter. He was finally able to start the baking! He’d been prepping the ingredients for these cookies for almost twenty minutes, and he was just about tired of looking at baking supplies for the rest of his life. But, he had to do this. Lizzie had requested these cookies as payment for their last trade, and he couldn’t just say no. Besides, it gave the sheriff the perfect excuse to drag fWhip into the kitchen with him. 

“fWhip! Are you going to help me or not?” Jimmy leaned out of the doorway to call. The goblin had said he’d be done with his jewelry project about an hour ago, and he’d probably gotten distracted in the process. 

“Coming, sorry!” 

The soft thuds of padded feet hurriedly making their way down the stairs grew louder as the man approached, finally appearing at the bottom. “Sorry! Got caught up in what I was doing. Need some help?”

Jimmy snickered as his prediction was proven correct. “Yeah, everything’s all set up and ready to go.”

fWhip grinned, rubbing his hands together cheekily. “Perfect! These are gonna be the best cookies ever, I swear it.”

Jim rolled his eyes at his husband’s confidence. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

They decided to divide the baking into two parts to split between them. fWhip would be in charge of the dry ingredients, while Jimmy the wet ingredients. While fWhip stirred together the flour, baking soda, and salt, Jimmy got to dump the sugar into the mixing bowl, which he found silly. Why was sugar considered a wet ingredient when it was obviously dry? Baking confused him endlessly. He much preferred cooking- it was a lot easier!

It was only when he reached for the butter that Jimmy realized his stupidity. The sheriff slapped a palm to his face, letting out a small groan. He’d forgotten to get out arguably one of the most important ingredients. But, that was fine. He could just grab some from the fridge and leave it on the porch railing to soften in half the time with Tumble Town’s summer heat. 

Yet, when he opened the fridge’s door, he found no butter in its usual compartment. Jim made sure to check the rest of the fridge, double check the butter compartment, and recheck the rest of the fridge, just in case. He found nothing. 

The man closed the fridge door, with a groan, looking over to find fWhip having watched the whole debacle. “I’m so stupid,” he shook his head. “We’re out of butter, we’ll have to wait ‘til tomorrow to make these.”

fWhip’s brow furrowed. “Can’t we just head down to the store and grab some more? It’s, like, five minutes away.”

Jimmy almost considered it more a moment before remembering. “It’s Sunday, the general store closes at noon on Sundays,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

fWhip hummed in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that’s a bit of a problem,” he admitted, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. “What about oil? Or shortening, even? Would those work?”

“Nah, those don’t work the same as butter, they’d be more like pancakes than cookies.”

“Well, gold’s the same color and kinda the same shape as butter,” fWhip snickered. 

Jimmy rolled his eyes, a smile growing on his lips. “We’re not putting gold in the cookies, hun. How would that even work?”

“Like this!” Before Jimmy could stop him, fWhip was already running off, presumably to grab some gold from his jewelry-making station. Oh God, this was gonna turn out horrible, wasn’t it?

Jimmy was just finishing going through the five stages of grief, wondering why he ever married this freak and if divorce was too soon to consider, when fWhip returned. The goblin brandished a gold ingot, roughly the size of a cup’s worth of butter. “Recipe time!”

Somehow, the gold allowed them to get far enough in the baking process to portion the cookies out on a baking sheet. Jimmy was skeptical, yet couldn’t deny that when they came out of the oven, they were beautiful. Each cookie had a shiny look to them, reflecting the setting sun’s light across the kitchen. 

At the sight, Jimmy couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Lizzie’s gonna love these.”

[hellverse]

wrote a little thing (emphasis on little) about dean trying to provoke cas and cas being, well, a little slow about it. check it out on ao3 or below the cut if you wanna, xo

Dean was bored. So. Very. Bored. He was convinced that if there was anything left to learn, they would have learnt it by now. Sam had already clocked himself out about an hour or so ago, which in his mind, served as a pretty good sign that they could be done for the night. They could just continue this tomorrow. Or later. Or simply at any other time but now. Because right now, Dean just wanted to drag Cas to their bedroom, and certainly not for sleeping purposes. It wasn't like he was touch starved, the two of them spent plenty of time passing up on some good night sleeps, trading them for early morning coffees and midday naps. But sometimes, Cas would get into one of those stubborn, help-the-world moods, where nothing else seemed to register. One could call it dedication, Dean, however, liked to think of it as the evil reverse viagra he had to defeat. 

And of course, as Dean’s luck would have it, they had been stuck in a bit of a loop recently. Although he was pretty sure Sam could handle it on his own, if he wanted, or passed it on to someone else, he and Cas were insistent on helping. At the end of the day, Dean knew he would’ve made the same decision, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He felt somewhat normal for the first time in, well, a while, and wanted to stay in their little bubble just a little longer. Sue him. But...duty calls. 

Dean was sitting with his legs stretched, crossed at the ankles, staring at the ceiling, when he turned his head to take a peek at Cas. The angel was burning holes into some book, concentrating at such a level he almost looked like a statue - an immortalised bookworm. Cute. Hot, even. There was something about the way his face looked, how serious he was, how his brows were just a little furrowed, and how the line between them was starting to show itself. It certainly reminded me of Dean of something. 

“Cas," no answer, "Cas!” 

The angel lifted his head in Dean’s direction, keeping his eyes on the book for five seconds longer before eventually looking at him. Cas smiled, something small and sweet dancing at the corners of his mouth. It was making Dean even more antsy, just thinking about how different his smile could be if he were to just- 

“Did you want something?” Cas interrupted before he could even finish his thought. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I did. Um, are you gonna be, uh, done soon?” 

"You can go to bed if you're tired, Dean, I don't mind staying here on my own," he said almost matter-of-factly. 

If only that were the issue , Dean thought to himself. Admittedly, he could just tell Cas what he wants, it's not like the angel couldn't return to this later, after all, he's not the one who needs sleep. The issue, however, would be that Dean wouldn’t want him to leave. He never does. And although they haven’t ever discussed it, he has a feeling that Cas doesn’t like it either. Call it a hunch. 

As much as Dean couldn’t focus on the research, he also knew, believed really, that he had enough brain power left in him to come up with a plan. Okay, maybe less plan, more technique of how to turn Cas away from reading and more to, well, him. 

While the wheels were turning in his head, he must've been staring at Cas pretty intensely, as his blue eyes suddenly left the page again, locking with Dean's own. He could see the other glance down for just a second, where his thumb was resting on his lower lip, before speaking. 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm wonderful," Dean quickly answered, smiling, purposefully dragging the thumb across his lip. 

Cas stared at him for a second, wheels of his own probably spinning in that pretty head of his. Eventually, however, much to Dean's dislike, he turned back to the book. 

The thing about Cas was that he could be a little...unaware sometimes. Especially when his mind was focused on something else. And what is there for Dean to do, if not have a little fun with it? He wasn't opposed to some light teasing, provoking, especially when he could watch Cas slowly get the point of what Dean was suggesting, watch the little light bulb go off behind his eyes. 

Even with the anticipation buzzing all the way down to his fingertips, Dean wanted to make sure he would see this through. It was already past midnight, but he was sure coffee could only do some good, considering the plans he had. And besides, Cas could have some too. Not that he needed it, of course, but it had become something of a habit for the angel. 

"I'm gonna go fetch some coffee, do you want some, sweetheart?" Dean let his voice go sweet, putting a certain weight behind the pet name. They weren't exactly big on those, but when the moment calls...

Cas stared at him again, head slightly titled. Dean couldn't quite tell if he was getting suspicious or just a little ticked off by all the interruptions. 

"Sure, I'll take some if you're going."

Dean beamed at him, as he got up from his chair. Before going to the kitchen, however, he decided to see exactly what Cas was reading. And by 'see', he really meant lean down and pretend like he had a reason as to why he's gone over to Cas' side of the table before getting the coffee. Dean positioned himself on the left of the angel, resting the palm of his hand on the table, and putting the other hand on Cas' back, lightly drawing circles on the skin with his middle finger, right above where his shirt that Cas was wearing began. 

"Which book is this?" Dean asked, slightly turning his head in Cas' direction, but not looking at him. 

"The, um, it's about-"

"No," he chuckled, "I mean the number, how many have you read?" 

"Oh," Cas smiled, "I think this must be my fifth if I'm remembering correctly."

"Ah, well, haven't you just been such a hard worker today?" he placed a quick kiss on Cas' temple, before finally making his way to the kitchen. 

"Such hard work should be followed by a good reward," Dean whispered to himself. 

When he returned with the two coffees, Cas was still in the same position. Figures. He shuffled towards him, placing both of the mugs closer to the middle of the table, so as not to disturb the books placed in a half circle around the angel. 

"Hey," Dean muttered quietly, letting Cas know he was back, just in case he was too focused and didn't hear him come back. 

"Hi, Dean, thank you," he smiled.

It was moments like these, where it was just the two of them, the world quiet and calm like a field covered in snow, no wind and no footsteps, that convinced Dean he would never not feel the way he does now. Even before the confessions and first kisses, there was something about the way Cas would smile at him. It always went hand in hand with a pinch between his ribs, somewhat painful and warm. He kind of expected it to change, now that he knew the other felt the same, now that he had stopped telling himself it would never happen, now that the two of them were different. And yet it hadn't, not really. It knocks something in him loose every time, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad. 

Cas put his book down, interrupting Dean's thoughts once again, presumably to take a sip of his coffee, and Dean simply couldn't pass up that chance. He leant down, gently placing his hands on either side of the angel's face, and kissed him. The immediate jolt at the base of his spine served as a great reminder of what he was after. Cas kissed him back with no hesitation, something lazy and content in the way his lips were moving against Dean's own. That alone was enough for him to rethink his ways, thoughts of just grabbing Cas by the hand and dragging him to their bedroom flooding his mind. But again, where was the fun in that? More than anything, he was craving to see that light bulb moment, when Cas' eyes turned a darker shade of blue, knowing that the buzz in their stomachs and fingers matched each others. 

Dean decided to stay set in his ways, but that didn't mean his self-control was intact. He deepened the kiss, urgency colouring his own quiet sounds, tongue brushing against Cas' lower lip. He could feel one of the angel's hands, the one resting on his waist, softly grabbing at his shirt. 

He ended the kiss with a sharp inhale, eyes closed for a second longer, til the ground beneath his feet felt solid again. 

"Dean.." the rasp in Cas' voice almost made Dean lose his footing again. A beat of silence covered the room, letting Dean focus on the pulsating feeling in his cheeks. 

"What was that for?" Cas looked serious but only in a confused, have-I-missed-something kind of way. It took Dean everything he had not to jump him again. Instead, he just flashed a quick grin at Cas and winked. 

"Nothin', blue eyes, 's just because," he said, giving Cas one last peck on the lips.

He could feel Cas' eyes follow him, as he walked back to his side of the table, right across from Cas. When he looked up, he could see the slight twitch in the angel's eyebrow. For a celestial being, especially one that has seen a lot of what the world has to offer, he really couldn't be any more oblivious sometimes. 

Dean sat back in his chair, the warm coffee cup in his hands matching the warmth in the pit of his stomach. Cas was back to reading again, though Dean could tell he was a little more fidgety than before. He smiled to himself, as he lifted the cup to his lips. He could pretend he was reading, but even that seemed like too much work. After all, he was more than happy to just watch Cas. With the angel already slightly on edge, it was only a matter of time before he was glancing up at Dean every few minutes. 

"Dean...," Cas finally broke after about 30 minutes.

"What?" Dean answered, playing it up just a little bit to sound offended. 

"Why are you staring?"

"Can I not look at my very handsome boyfriend?" he smiled. If there was a gun to his head, he'd have to admit he even fluttered his eyelashes a little.  

The term 'boyfriend', similar to pet names, wasn't something that the pair used very often, but sometimes, well, there was just no way getting past it. Dean didn't necessarily mind the word, just needed some time to get used to it, he thought. 

He could see the slight blush forming in Cas' cheeks. The angel lowered his head, about to return to his task, before looking back up at Dean through his eyebrows for a split second. A look nearly bordering on 'knock it off', but not quite. 

The glances continued, almost like Cas was trying to catch him in the act, like something he did would give away whatever it was that he was thinking. Dean, of course, only saw that as an opportunity to continue his little show. 

By this point he had already finished his coffee, the ring finger of his right hand sliding in circles around the rim of the cup. It wasn't exactly a conscious action, not until he saw Cas glance at his hand. After that, he made it a point to look Cas up and down the next time his eyes wandered back to Dean. The angel only squinted at him.

He had noticed Cas finish off his own coffee not too long ago, so after a few minutes of pretend daydreaming, he got up, hand under his shirt, the palm of his hand resting on his ribs. This time around it wasn't so unintentional, his shirt pulling up slightly, exposing the skin. If Cas could burn holes in him, he was sure he'd be all burnt up by now. But who was he to complain? 

He slowly made his way to the kitchen for a second time, washing up the cups, and sorting out a few other things while he was there. It was nearing 4 am, and as entertaining as it had been, Dean was ready to actually get things going. 

He walked back into the library with a purpose, heading straight to Cas. The angel didn't even have time to blink before Dean was already in front of him, arm stretched out as if he was asking him to dance. Cas put his hand in Dean's, suspicion in his eyes almost completely masked by the gentle amusement. 

Dean barely waited for him to get on his feet before grabbing Cas by the waist with one hand and dragging him closer. Cas just smiled, head tilted to the left ever so slightly.  Good , Dean thought,  better access . 

"I think you should be done now," Dean muttered before scattering light kisses on Cas' neck. 

"Oh, should I?" the angel said, amusement now clear in his voice, Dean humming against his neck.

Dean lifted his head only to give Cas a look that in his head couldn't have looked anything short of hungry. That must've finally filled the missing gap in the angel's mind, as Cas' face finally mirrored the expression that Dean had been thinking about for hours now. The split second of surprise bled into understanding, and his eyes darkened. Maybe it wasn't so much a light bulb going off, as it was a light bulb exploding.

"Oh," Cas whispered.

"Oh," Dean echoed, teasing, whilst it was still his turn. 

"I think you might be right," Cas said, as he stepped forward, hand resting on Dean's chest, softly pushing him back, "I've done enough work for today."

Dean let the angel guide him until he felt his back hit the pillar, the coldness of it seeping through his shirt, a nice distraction from the heat of his own body. Though that didn't last long, as Cas pressed against him, hands sneaking under his shirt, much like Dean himself had done earlier. Cas slid his hand up and down Dean's sides, his fingertips occasionally sinking into Dean's skin. 

He launched forward, only to have Cas swiftly pull back like he was already expecting it. As soon as Dean let his head fall back, resting against the pillar, Cas leaned closer to him again, lips almost touching and whispered:

"I understand you've had your fun, but what about me?" voice sweet, smiling, moving further back and then closer again in waves. 

"Cas..." Dean breathed just as quietly, his throat dry, "Cas, once we get to the bedroom you can have all the fun you want."

"Oh," Cas immediately pulled back, "well, if you say so, Dean." 

As soon as the sentence left Cas' lips, Dean knew. He knew that Cas wouldn't let up until Dean was bordering on incoherent, and, oh, he just couldn't wait. 

[pbaz7]

so so so so so incredibly excited (my day was once again absolutely awful so im hoping for a pick me up happy chap :) )

warning: suggestive content

W.

From the other end of the line, Elle’s cheery voice replied, “Good morning, Azzi.”

she does remember that az is taken... right?

“Pai…my girlfriend is asleep

ALMOST OUTED HERSELF LMAO

There was a slight pause before Elle answered, a hint of disappointment in her tone

knowing her this bitch probably chose to not hear the "pai"

Later that day, after they’d woken up, brushed their teeth, and taken a long, warm shower together, they’d ended up right back in bed. The morning had melted into the early afternoon as they laid around, playfully rolling across the sheets, teasing each other, play fighting and stealing kisses in between laughs.

this is so gross (adorable) i hate gay people we should ban them (im literally a lesbian im just annoyed that im single)

Elle (Comms Class):

THE PARENTHESES AFTER THE NAME IM DEAD. SHES SO INSIGNIFICANT AZ MIGHT FORGET LMAO

Without lifting her head, Azzi mumbled against her skin, “You’re gonna win the bet.”

well no fucking shit sherlock.

You’re gorgeous Az can’t really blame her.”

I mean who wouldn't want the Azzi Fudd to be fair

“I’ll be subtle. Just a little something to remind her that you’re taken.”

Paige doesn't really know subtle...

“Your version of ‘subtle’ isn’t subtle at all.”

LMAO STOLE MY WORDS

Well, Paige was driving.

Azzi's her passenger princess of course

“you mentioned your girlfriend yesterday. What’s she like?”

6 foot, blonde, insanely attractive, great hands, star player for uconn women's basketball. sound familiar?

“And what does she look like? Is she as tall as you? Blonde? Brunette?”

hotter than you. taller than you. blonder than you. better than you.

“Why do you want to know?”

clock it azzi

“does she ever get jealous? You know, with how much time you spend with Paige?”

is she blind? we learned she was deaf last chapter when she didn't hear Paige being the freak she is. is this ho Helen Keller reincarnated?

But, I mean… Paige is Paige Bueckers. Gotta be a little intimidating.

oh elle. if only you knew.

if I were your girlfriend, I’d definitely be keeping an eye on Paige.

this is Hermione trying to make a move on Ron in half blood prince at the bar lmao

“She doesn’t mind Paige,”

guys I can't take this anymore. id personally scream at Elle or just start violently making out with Paige in front of her

but I’d rather not talk about my personal life anymore. Let’s just focus on the project.”

FUCKING CLOCK IT.

“I can see why someone would… want to be around you all the time.”

she knows subtle less than Paige jeez

Azzi blinked, her stomach tightening as Elle moved a little closer, leaning in with an expression that was far too intense for comfort.

SHE HAS A GIRLFRIEND. YOU KNOW THAT. DOES SHE HAVE MEMORY LOSS TOO?

💗: Not done yet, but I might need you to come sit here while we finish.

Paige is fuming somewhere. also it's so sweet that she can just like text p and she come to her rescue and protect her

💗P: Something’s wrong though I can tell

she knows az so well she can see her emotions thru a text message

P 💗: I’m omw

Paige leave the weapons at home please

“Hey, pretty girl.” The words lingered between them for a moment, the intimacy clear.

elle is about to start tweaking im scared

Paige immediately noticed and glanced over. Without a word, she pulled off her hoodie and handed it to Azzi, leaving herself in a snug-fitting black t-shirt that clung to her toned frame and her silver cross glistening from the light.

was gonna comment on p being sweet but then like the description of p was so hot so idk what to do here guys

“Everything okay over there?” Paige asked,

Paige is having too much fun lmao

“I haven’t even started,”

im so scared but so excited

“You’ll be lucky if you can even walk to practice tomorrow.”

I VOLUNTEER. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

I’ll make sure everybody can hear who you belong to,” Paige whispered, her teeth grazing Azzi’s earlobe before pulling back slightly.

holy fuck.

“You like that, don’t you baby?”

I need elle to walk in

her thighs pressing together as her need for Paige became overwhelming. “P-Paige baby…” she started, her voice barely audible.

the overwhelming urge I have to shapeshift into Azzi fudd

“You’re so obvious, baby,” Paige murmured, her voice low and teasing. “She can see how desperate you are for me.”

I am literally. I can't. I. yeah.

imagining the necklace dangling above her, its chain brushing against her skin as Paige—

poor elle honestly she's basically watching porn (jk I literally could not care less)

Elle, at this point, didn’t need any more hints.

finally.

“do you want to come over here so we can go through the final slides together?”

why is she still flirting.

Paige let her hand trail along Azzi’s arm and then down to her thigh.

elle is like um guys..

“I never would’ve tried anything if I knew it was you Paige. I’m sorry.”

but it's ok to try stuff if its not Paige?

the door barely clicked shut before Azzi grabbed Paige by the shirt, pushing her firmly against it. Her lips crashed against Paige’s, her kiss full of pent-up frustration and desire.

poor azzi had to endure not only elle hitting on her but p literally teasing her for hours

“What you did wasn’t funny.”

it definitely was

“I’ve wanted to rip your clothes off for the past hour,”

never read something so relatable

“I’ll let you go first,” Paige said smoothly, her voice low and dripping with confidence. “Because I promise, Az, you won’t be able to move when I’m done.”

I don't think im ever recovering.

You looked so good in there,"

let's be real tho... doesn't she always look good?

"Be patient, baby."

Paige doesn't know what that word means lmao

"I won’t make you this time, baby,"

THIS TIME? AUTHOR OH HOW YOU'VE ROBBED US

Paige’s control wavered, her breathing quickening as she clenched the sheets beneath her.

you robbed us two chapters in a row. I better see a continuation of this next chapter.

good lord author. I felt so many emotions but most of them were "oh my god I hate elle" and "oh my lord Paige is so fine"

this definitely made my day better, I love you!☺️

-🍉

i’m so glad i made your day better 🥹

you struggling more than azzi was in the chapter with your reactions lol 😭

i pinky swear i won’t rob you next time you’ll love it 🙂‍↕️

ilysm and i hope you have a amazing day tomorrow 🍉

[akantonelli]

i think you know exactly what ship (🐨⛳️) i'm gonna send you a request of for the angry confession prompt thingy :D

- 🍁

(7 and/or 10 please, i think they work quite well together)

angry confession prompt

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” 

“The part where you want me,” Oscar replied to Lando’s exasperated, almost angry tone with the same intonation. He’d held feelings for Lando since his karting days, when he’d seen the older as an inspiration (though there was less than two years between them). Those feelings - what he’d played off at the time as puppy love at most, and a crush on something of a celebrity - hadn’t faded. They’d followed him as he’d climbed through the junior ranks of the sport, and still hadn’t left him as he’d graduated to Formula 1, as Lando’s teammate of all things.

The fact that Lando wanted him didn’t feel real, the fact that he was telling him that after one of his worst recent performances only made it worse. This was just some kind of cruel, sick prank, and Oscar couldn’t let himself have hope. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lando asked, the anger slowly dissipating and being replaced with hurt. Oscar didn’t like it. He didn’t want to feel responsible for hurting Lando’s feelings, but he had to protect himself. There was a race tomorrow and points on the table, and he was starting from tenth - worse than he had in the Sprint. He needed to focus, he needed to be able to show the team that he wasn’t just a One Time Thing.

As a result, Oscar just shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Getting into this wasn’t going to help his mindset.

“Oscar, look at me.”

His teammate spoke so gently, though, and it was impossible to deny his simple request. He was almost always looking at Lando with his stupidly lovesick eyes, and even if he was trying to protect himself he couldn’t help but soften as he turned back to look at him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He repeated. The hurt was there again, but it didn’t seem like Lando was hurting for himself. It almost felt like he was hurting on Oscar’s behalf, and that almost felt worse. He didn’t want to be pitied.

“Not good enough, am I?” Oscar said matter-of-factly, giving Lando a half-arsed smile as he spoke. He didn’t want Lando to sympathise with him for his answer, but it was the honest answer. Lando was lightning - narrowing in on P4 in the Championship. He was consistent in his drives, with strong podium finishes almost every weekend since the upgrades had come to the car. Even when he qualified poorly he drove like hell during the race to make up for it. He was spectacular, he was everything Oscar had always hoped to be - and continued to hope to be. 

Oscar had done well in Qatar, but since then? All he’d had was excuses. He’d proven he could learn new circuits quickly, so why hadn’t he been doing that lately? Why had he been qualifying worse than his teammate? Why had his race pace and tyre management all but evaporated? 

“Oscar…” Lando said quietly, and Oscar forced his smile wider still. 

“You could have anyone in the world, Lando. Maybe raise your standards a bit?” 

The longer the conversation went on, the less and less it felt like a prank. Surely, by now, Lando would’ve admitted to it. Surely things were getting a little too personal for him to continue if there wasn’t some truth behind his words. Oscar licked his lips, taking in a deep breath through his nose, and he turned away from Lando again. He wasn’t saying anything - probably thinking about Oscar’s suggestion - and that felt like a good enough time to get out of the conversation. He needed to get away from Lando before his mind pointed out that maybe he’d fucked up the one shot he’d ever have with the guy. More importantly, he needed to get away from Lando before his emotions caught up with him. He’d admitted that he wasn’t good enough, and even if he wasn’t trying to shield himself from being on the wrong end of a prank he knew it was true. Saying it aloud hadn’t quite sunk in yet, but he could feel the dagger he’d plunged into his own chest starting to twist. Nausea hit him first, the telltale sign that insecurity was starting to eat him from the inside, and he had to get away.

Lando didn’t let him.

He tried to walk, but he felt a hand gripping at his wrist. There was no one here but them, and Oscar wasn’t sure if he liked it that way or not. People being around would’ve made Lando far less likely to intervene like this.

“I think you’re perfect, Osc,” Lando said. His voice was a whisper, but the emotion in his voice spoke volumes. There was so much care and love behind his words that he couldn’t deny that the feelings between them were requited any longer. Lando liked him - really liked him - and all Oscar wanted to do was run away. After a moment of silence, Lando spoke again.

“You didn’t say you didn’t like me back.”

“That’s not the point…”

“That’s exactly the point. It’s not for you to choose who I like, or for you to dictate my standards. I like you, Oscar. You’re a bloody talented racer, too, but that’s got nothing to do with it. I like you for your dry sense of humour and that cute bit of hair that sticks out all wavy. I like you for how hard you work, and how determined you are. I like you because no matter how shit of a weekend you have, you always bounce back with a smile. I hate the fact that you think you aren’t good enough for me, because you are universes out of my league. Forget me, you could have anyone in the world. I guess, part of me hopes that anyone might be me.”

The silence came back again, but this time Lando didn’t break it. Oscar was forced to bask in Lando’s kind words, letting them wash over him as they stood under the fluorescent lighting in the back of the garage that Lando had caught him in. Lando’s fingers were still wrapped around his wrist, and Oscar had a decision to make.

He could force Lando to drop his hand and walk away, cementing the fact that he didn’t believe he was worth Lando’s affections. Or he could take a risk, let his walls down a little bit, stop hiding behind his own insecurities and let Lando in.

It was difficult, and it seemed ludicrous. They were racers, they constantly took risks that could end up with their lives ending in a fraction of a second. The only risk here was that the relationship didn’t work out and things became a bit awkward. Despite the fact that it wasn’t life or death, it seemed so much more terrifying than deciding where to brake in the wet at Monaco.

Slowly, very slowly, Oscar flexed his fingers. As he moved them he twisted his arm to force Lando to let go of his wrist. 

There was a brief moment of dejected heartbreak on the other’s face, but as Oscar moved his hand to press his palm against Lando’s, their fingers intertwining, it was replaced quickly with a smile. Both their cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as Lando squeezed his hand tightly, and Oscar found that all of his insecurities had quietened down significantly. 

He could get used to this.