#it's nice to just write things and put them out there

[cuteandhughesy]

It’s You. ╰┈➤ AS37

summary: when your best friend needs a fake girlfriend for his cousins wedding, you are the girl he claims is his. after all, what’s the worse than can happen? well, after sharing a bed, an awkward conversation about sex with his family and an unexpected kiss, you and andrei are forced to confront feelings you thought you had been repressing.

[word count] 10.9k

warnings: MATURE! friends to lovers | fake dating | fluff | a lil angst | weddings | l kissing | reader is mentioned to have glasses | fade to black smut scene | drinking | mention of sex organs | mature themes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: the end of 2024, I put out a poll asking which players you wanted to see my write for (that I haven’t done yet) and svechy was one of the players you guys wanted to see! so I hope you guys love this 💋 this uses some scenes from a no-longer published fic—if it looks familiar, that’s because it is ❤️

🎵 perfect places by lorde, scared of my guitar by olivia rodrigo, must be nice by ruel, breakfast in bed by nessa barrett, carry you home by alex warren, it's you by zayn, best friends by 5 seconds of summer, delicate by taylor swift, + always been you by shawn mendes

andrei already knows that it's not the brightest idea he's ever had. actually, refrain that, it's quite possibly the worst idea he's ever had.

it's just—the idea passed through his system and fell out of his mouth before he could even blink. andrei's mother and aunt had practically ambushed him on a three way call just over three weeks ago—8 a.m in russia, 1 a.m. in carolina—which already had him in a frazzle. but then they immediately started asking about the dreaded (dreaded for andrei, more so than anyone else, obviously) plus one attached to his cousins wedding invitation.

the wedding that yes, was in fact only three weeks away. and a plus one attachment that andrei still hadn't confirmed or denied if he needed. because according to his very empty left side of the bed, and the singular toothbrush on his bathroom counter, andrei svechnikov is very much single and very much not needing a plus one.

but it just came out before he could stop it.

‘of course i'll be bringing someone to the wedding mama and tetr! in fact, i'll be bringing my girlfriend!’

and know here he is, 2 hours into an 18 hour flight from raleigh to his hometown in a first class seat that, despite its expanse of leg room, feels all too small. it's suffocating for no other reason than his own doing and sneakiness that he’s drowning in.

because you're next to him, happy and sipping on your third glass of champagne—skin radiating heat with the bubbly alcohol running through your bloodstream. you're halfway to tipsy and somehow completely oblivious to the way andrei's shoulders are still tight and ridged, something that normally subsides after take off.

as far as you know—because it's what your best friend told you, mind you—you're attending andrei's cousins wedding as his best friend. because since 2019, where you meet the russian hurricanes rookie downtown at a shitty dive bar playing music far too loud, you and andrei have been just that. best friends.

you suppose the friendship blossomed because of your common interests of sports and adam sandler movies and how the smell of coconut is one of your favourite things in the entire world. or perhaps it was your differences that had you and andrei forming such a strong friendship.

you hate rollercoasters, but andrei loves them.

you love tequila, but when andrei drinks tequila he ends up with his head inside a toilet bowl.

you would rather eat rubber than an olive, but andrei puts olives on everything he eats—much to his dietary staffs displeasure. salt is a killer people.

regardless, the both of you bonded over shitty honey garlic wings served with a side of ranch—sauce on the side per your request, to which he called you a weirdo for. whatever—and became fast friends.

so obviously three weeks ago when andrei asked if you wanted to come to the wedding so he, you and quote, 'doesn't have to be alone while he young cousins force him to play around the yard, and his distant family talks his ear off the entire weekend,' you easily complied. you booked the time off work that afternoon before leaving the office without so much as a second thought.

but andrei didn't tell you why he needed you to join him. not the real reason anyways. because what? he's just supposed to say, 'oh by the way, this weekend I need you to be my fake girlfriend because I told my family that's what we have become. boyfriend and fucking girlfriend.'

yeah, unfucking likely. and andrei knows that you're not going to kill him over his little lie. that's just not you. he's also sure that if he was truthful from the beginning with you, you would've agreed to the whole fake in love act with the snap of a finger. because you're giving and caring and so damn compassionate that it's almost sickly.

but andrei just couldn't. he kept pushing the truth back, telling himself that the moment would come and that’s when he would come clean. but now you're both on the plane to russia, wedding just a few days away, and you still have no idea that in 16 hours you're going to be sharing a bed and holding hands and maybe even needing to show a few kisses.

god, it's a mess.

"do you feel sick?" your smooth voice breaks andrei out of his stress whirling thoughts, lifting his palm off his sweaty forehead like he's been caught stealing candy. it's then when andrei realizes he audibly groaned out loud, which obviously did it’s part in grabbing your attention.

he swallows and sends you an unconvincing smile. "no, i'm fine." andrei feels sick alright, just not in the way you're picturing.

you blink like a baby deer at him from over the adjustable wall between your scoop like seats—your champagne glass abandoned on the fold away table in favour of clutching the edge of the wall between your manicured fingers.

a pout pulls at your lips before you reach out, touching his forehead with the back of your hand. "are you warm?"

andrei jerks back, worried that you’ll notice the misting of sweat dusting his hairline. "no, what? I'm fine, y/n."

you send him a skeptical look, "you look like you're about to blow chunks everywhere."

"that's gross."

"it's true," you chime. a beat passes, your gaze never wavering from andrei's wound up, tight expression, while the plane continues to easily glide through the clouds.

you take your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing on the plump skin until it will undoubtedly go raw. andrei has to stop himself from reaching over to pull your lip out with his thumb.

"are you mad about something? nervous?" you push, determined to get your best friend to spill regardless of how tightly wound up he is. and obviously you've noticed that he's been a little...off, for lack of a better word, the past three weeks. andrei is your best friend, of course you noticed.

but you know better than to push him, and that andrei will open up when he's ready—like usual. but the champagne floating around in your head has your tongue slipping, and curiosity has gotten the best of you.

"is it something I did?" you swallow, something tentative in your tone that makes andrei's belly clench with guilt.

"no," he breathes before running a calloused hand down the front of his flushed face. andrei looks back over to you, eyes flickering between your wide and sad ones, and he just breaks. "I fucked up."

ever amused by his dramatics, you quirk a brow at his distress. the drunk haze has you unable to see his actual, very real, distress. "you get the sushi from that airport kiosk after I went to the bathroom, didn't you?"

but it's then —when andrei looks over at you with a guilt ridden, pouty raw lip, that you blink. hard. a wave of hot sweat rushing over your skin as every possible problem arises in your body.

andrei mutters your name in that deep, gravelly way and you think you might be the one who ends up puking.

"what is it?" you swallow, "what happened? are you okay?"

he groans again, no less dramatic than the previous display, head falling back against the plush first class cushioned head rest, giving himself a nice view of the hard plastic roof above.

andrei thinks back to the phone call with his family—more specifically, how pleased they sounded when he told them that you were the girl he was bringing home.

you, the girl he's cared for since before he could string a cohesive english scentence together.

you, the girl who his mom facetimes more than she facetimes her own son.

you, the best friend his family has had the pleasure of falling in love with and accepting as one of their own. but left disappointed when andrei said, no, nothings there between you.

just friends.

it's too late to back out now—for obvious reasons, clearly—but also for the fact that he can't take this away from his family now. not when his mother had said she's been waiting for the two of you to fall in love.

so fall in love you must. even if it's fake.

andrei's head lols against the headrest over in your direction, and he gulps slowly, adam's apple bobbing largely. before he can chicken out and do something crazy like jump out of the emergency exit, andrei's lips part with hesitation.

"we have to pretend to be in love," he pauses, "like in love."

at first you just blink at him, face completely flat and void of emotion, and then every so subtly, your brows draw together. "...why?"

"I just," andrei hesitates like he's not quite sure exactly what to say to you. he chalks it up to the way your soft eyes are unwavering—patient, even—and that's the reason andrei just spews.

he tells you everything. from the wedding invitation with the accompanying plus one he got in the mail a year prior, and all the way through the conversation with his mom and his aunt just a few weeks ago. the taunting plus one and lack of girlfriend that just bubbled up in his chest until the lie just fell off his tongue.

andrei takes a much needed inhale, his cheeks flushed like a little boys in the summer heat. "and when my mom asked for my girlfriends name...I don't know? you were the first person I thought of."

you nod after a beat, every so slightly that andrei is not sure if he's imagining it. you fall back into the large seat with a fluttering sigh, "oh fuck."

andrei can't help the disbelief laced laughter that rumbles through his broad chest, because, yeah, oh fuck is right.

you turn to look at him, face a little less flushed than the last time you did.

"if it makes you feel any better," he continues awkwardly, scratching the spot next to his heart like a nervous habit. "my mom was really excited that we're together now."

"andrei."

he winces, "are you mad at me?"

the question prompts a flash of deja vu from meer minutes ago, when the question was flipped between you. "no," you tell him after a beat, running a clammy hand over your untamed hair. "i'm just...trying to digest it all."

"right, of course." andrei swallows and sits up straighter in his seat, "and I know i'm springing this on you very last fucking minute. but i've already figured it all out, and i've got some sort of a game plan for us."

"a game plan?"

"yeah," he nods, "I've called it the 'andrei and y/n love affair 2025.'"

"that's good," you gulp, pulling your knees up against your chest. your matching cream sweat set all blends together in this position, and andrei thinks you look like a cute marshmallow—but he chooses to not verbalize that right now, because it may just push you over the edge.

even though right now, you're surprisingly calm and it's kind of freaking him out even further.

you continue, "I hope you have this said love affair plan written down because we really gotta figure this out before we get to russia."

instinctively his chocolate eyes flicker towards the map screen, stealing a glance at the ETA of the touchdown. andrei looks back at you, "oh, we've got time."

for the next hour and forty five minutes, you and andrei go through every possible nook and cranny of your fake relationship and nail it down. from the beginning right until the very end, the plan has been polished and repeated between you over 20 times. each.

throughout the conversation you started to come a little more to. it helped that andrei asked if you were okay every fifteen seconds—which any other time may be a little annoying—but right now, you accept his persistent with open arms.

knowing that he feels bad about the situation is enough, even though you could never actually be mad at him. not over something as simple as this. the amount of times andrei has picked your drunk ass up from a variety of different carolina bars over the years—or took care of you the next morning—let's just say you definitely owe him a favour or two.

besides, it's not like you're really worried about faking a romantic relationship with andrei. most of the time it feels like andrei is already your boyfriend, just without the kissing and…stuff. now that's making you a bit nervous. but you digress.

you've both had a few glasses of champagne now, allowing yourselves to relax a bit more—which was much needed. it also allows your usual banter and teasing to return between you and andrei, hushed laughter falling from your lips under the dim lights of the cabin.

"so," you muse, a little slurred. "when did you realize you liked me?"

"you're ridiculous," andrei snorts, earning a cautious look from the old lady on the other side of the plane. neither of you notice.

"what," you laugh, "i'm prepping you for the questions." you reach over and push his thick thigh with the tips of your fingers. he barley budges.

"'nobody is going to ask me that." andrei counters teasingly, nudging you back.

"they might!" you counter, a teasing smile still tugging at your lips, a sight that has andrei following suit with his own boyish grin.

"if they ask...i'll say," he pauses, making you wait with half baited breath, tucked under the first class blankets that andrei always thinks feel like toothbrush bristles. andrei shrugs casually, "i'll say always."

your head whips in his direction from where you previously started to flip through the dinner menu—always so easily distracted—so fast that andrei gets a whiff of your raspberry shampoo. it's a pleasant smell, one that reminds him of coming home after a road trip to you sleeping on his apartment couch.

his words settle over your skin like a prickling whisper, and you blink a few times in surprise.

but then, like he didn't just say something so heartfelt and beautiful, turns towards the airplane dinner menu, humming thoughtfully as he reads the three options. "I think i'm gunna get the steak."

—

carefully, but with precision, you roll your shoulders, bones and vertebrae squeaking and cracking in—a much needed, mind you—protest.

you can still smell the lingering champagne and the scent of plane on your skin, and on andrei's as he walks back towards you from where’d he’d been in the heart of baggage claim, both of your suitcases in tow—wheels squeaking along the weathered floor tiles.

andrei looks all but awake as he raises his eyebrows in question, "all ready?"

you groan sleepily as a form of answer, raising your arms in a limb stretching pull, tank top risings and exposing your lower belly to the bustling airport. you removed your fluffy hoodie as soon as you stepped onto the hot, sticky tarmac and it's now sitting comfortably around your best friends broad shoulders, making him look like he belongs in a country club.

oddly enough it suits him—when you said that though he gave you a look.

despite the way andrei urges you along, he too is fighting exhaustion. changing time zones is always a struggle no matter how many times a year andrei does it, and this weekend trip is no exception. there's matching eye bags under both of your eyes, and even though andrei knows that his family is waiting for your arrival, all he wants to do is climb into his small double childhood bed and pass out.

and you're in the same boat it seems, ugg slippered feet dragging on the ground beside andrei as you both step onto the descending escalator—suitcases clinging annoyingly at the change of surface.

the ride down is held for nothing but the whirling sound of the machinery as you and andrei stay quiet. not only are you both on the brink of falling asleep while up right, but you're both so damn nervous about perfecting your plan that speaking about it will only make it worse.

and if you panic, andrei will panic and it will just go to shit.

so silence is good.

once you're stepping off the escalator and onto the ground level of the airport, andrei automatically places his large palm on your lower back, steadying you as you both make your way towards the large exit doors that lead to the even larger parking lot.

a parking lot that undeniably has his family waiting for the both of you. suddenly you’re wishing you guys just called and uber.

your heart flutters anxiously, feet coming to an abrupt stop at the thought of the days ahead. you're supposed to be a girlfriend from here on out, and that has your tongue molding into a sheet of sand paper.

once he notices you’ve stopped walking, andrei spins to look back at you, his brows pulled in the concerned way he always seems to have when it comes to your well being.

"do I look okay?" you ask frantically, running your hands over your oily, yet somehow also frizzy, hair.

"you look fine," andrei soothes, pulling your hands away from your head and holding both of your clammy hands in one of his. stupid giant boy. "stop playing with it though, or else we will really have a problem "

you send him a deadpan look. "you're not funny."

andrei grins despite the sleep lacing his expression. he easily tugs you back into his side as you both begin to short walk towards the doors. finally. "you're right. i'm actually hilarious."

you roll your eyes and push the door open, a wave of heat washing over your already dewy skin and making you feel a bit woozy. andrei reaches over your head and pushes it open further, holding the door and allowing you to easily slip outside.

he continues, "you don't need to be nervous, y/n. you've met my family before and they are already obsessed with you." andrei makes a noise between an amused scoff and a laugh, "my mom texted me yesterday and said she's already changed your contact name to, future daughter in law."

"jesus christ," you exhale shakily, pressing a hand to your forehead. your eyes flicker up to his, "don't say that or i'll start feeling bad."

andrei holds off from smirking, "don't feel bad."

"too late."

"hey, just stop for a second." andrei gently takes ahold of your wrist, his index finger automatically stroking the outer part of your forearm. you know he's doing it to calm you, but unfortunately it only turns your stomach flutters up to a maximum.

andrei swallows, and all signs of his playfulness from mere seconds ago fades. his eyes swim with sincerity as he continues, "if this is too much just tell me and i'll handle it. I don't care if my mom whoops me with her shoe—if you're uncomfortable with this plan, i'll make sure it doesn't move forward."

you blink before managing to give one firm shake of your head. obviously you're nervous, but not enough to ruin your best friends entire trip. not over this. "i'm fine."

he looks skeptical, "promise me?"

"we're not 5." you deadpan.

"promise me."

you sigh—a mixture of reluctance and amusement. "I promise. i'm just...nervous. and overthinking everything. i’ll be fine once I get some sleep."

andrei's response comes easily, like he doesn't even need to think about reassuring you. "that's okay. just be you." he squeezes your wrist. "seriously."

your lips part in an attempt to deflect the wave of tenderness rushing between you and andrei—some sarcastic remark about him becoming a softly, surely. but the excitable gasp from across the surprisingly calm parking lot halts you.

"andrei!" his mothers voice is full of excitement as elena svechnikov bounces on her heels. both you and andrei look towards the commotion and find not only his mother, but his father, igor, and for some reason the family dog.

your best friend grumbles under his breath. "oh god."

you squint through the sunshine reflecting on the cars and distorting your vision. "is that a sign?"

he matches your squinty expression, even going as fair to shield his eyes from the sun with his gigantic hand. "that's definitely a sign."

his mother, ever to sweetest lady—seriously like purse candy, shirt of her back, treats you like her own kind of sweet—is clutching a piece of red and black decorated bristol board. canes colours obviously. a big and bold font that says welcome home smack dab in the middle.

you're pretty sure there are even a few pictures of you and andrei accompanying the words.

andrei's shoulders fall in what is probably exhaustion and the act of giving up. his eyes flicker towards your side profile, a careful expression on his face as he asses yours.

"we got this," you mutter after a beat, squinting through the blistering sun and away from his parents—up at your best friend.

"I hope so." without another passing second, andrei interlocks your fingers together, a soft yet confident smile overtaking his face as he pulls you both across the parking lot and in the direction of his family.

you don't even register the feeling of his hand in yours until his mother is greeting you both happily, pulling you into a bone crushing embrace that has the potential to crack your ribs.

"wow mom," andrei snickers playfully, ruffling the dogs overrun head of curls as it jumps up his thighs. "you must love y/n more than me if you’re greeting her first."

elena waves of his teasing before pulling andrei into a hug that mimics the one you just received. andries father gives you a polite hug and then takes one of the suitcases andrei wheeled up to the side of the car.

"how was the flight?" his mom questions, eyes darting between you both with the upmost twinkle of curiosity.

"long," you breathe a laugh.

andrei grins, "but we were fine. lots of talking to pass the time."

you shoot him a look, and andrei winks at you in response.

this guy.

registering your voice, the family dog bounds towards you next, its chubby legs and paws scratching at your legs, tail wagging happily while it pants up at you—clearly seeking affection. affection that you're happy to provide. always a sucker for animals, you crouch down and scrub behind the dogs ears. it earns you a satisfied rumble from its tiny body.

"you guys are definitely tired," elena clicks her tongue in displeasure, running a knuckle over her sons cheek like he’s a kid. "let's get you two home."

she gently pets your head before making sure her husband is packing the luggage in the car correctly—even though igor claims there's no correct way to pack a trunk. andrei's mother begs to differ.

the dog follows in her footsteps, leaving you. with a sigh, you place your hands on your knees and push up from your crouched position.

clearly you should've checked how close andrei was standing behind you, because your proximity has you completely grinding your ass against his crotch as you move to stand.

you gasp as andrei lets out a gentle grunt.

"sorry!" you wince quietly, but before you can move away, andrei arm wraps around your waist, fingers flexing against your lower stomach as he pulls you back into his chest, holding you in place and not allowing you to escape.

"it's okay baby." he says. you try not let your eyes widen at the nickname or the way you can feel his semi poking at your lower back. you're sure the blush you're now sporting is visible by anyone in the general vicinity and that's embarrassing enough.

elena hearing your voices, turns away from her husband and looks towards you. the sight of you embraced has her cooing, hands held to her chest like she's just seen the rebirth of christ himself.

"aren't you too so cute, I'm glad you two are finally together." it's clear she's not seeking any kind of response with her admiration because she turns and gets into the passenger seat before either you or andrei can attempt at closing your gaping mouths. you seriously look like fish.

the car door slamming shut has andrei blinking. he clears his throat once, and drops his arm from around your waist, and despite the heat of the sun, his lack of touch leaves you feeling cool.

you quickly move away from andrei and his...situation, allowing him the space to subtly fix his problem before anything else. you try not to think about it and pass your backpack to andrei's father, who is waiting patiently for the last bit of luggage.

"you okay sweetie?" igor sends you a weary coupled with amused glance, placing your pink bag on top of andrei's green suitcase. "you're looking flushed."

your eyes widen into saucers as your skin only warms further. jesus christ.

thankfully, ever your savour, andrei saunters up next to you, shoving his own carry on into the trunk with anything less than grace. he laughs, "it is summer, dad. we're both roasting." andrei jerks his head towards the front of the suv while the dog barks happily from his mothers lap. "go ahead and get in dad, run the air conditioner for a second. i've got the rest of the bags."

as soon as igor gets into the driver's seat, your both whipping in each others direction, looks of bewilderment on your faces as the last 5 minutes linger in the air.

"fuck i'm sorry," andrei whispers frantically, pretending to adjust the suitcases to not draw too much attention to either of you. "I don't know what came over me there. are you okay?"

you can't help your eyes from flickering towards his crotch. "are you okay?"

"I will be as soon as we stop talking about it."

you snort a laugh before quickly covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the sound. andrei sends you a harsh look which only makes you giggle more.

he shuts the trunk. "just...get in the car."

"such a gentlemen."

all earlier teasing and playfulness comes to a lull as the cool and plush leather seat envelopes you—the lack of rest and pure exhaustion quickly creeping back into your bones. it's truly game over when the car starts moving, lulling you into a much needed sleep.

not even the smell of airplane and greasy hair can stop the comfort of your best friends thick body pressed against yours, providing you with the most perfect pillow as you knock out, the beautiful city of barnaul passing through the window panes.

— day 1 BREAKFAST

you have very faint memory of climbing up the stairs of the svechnikov home after arriving back from the airport. andrei helped you out the car—sleep still clouding your eyes and your legs wobbly like a brand new baby giraffe.

the next thing you know, you're blinking awake, the sun shining through the sheer blue curtains and assaulting your eyes. you're not sure exactly what time it is, but based on the light and the smell of breakfast food wafting up the stairs, you can only assume you've slept through yesterday afternoon and night.

you blink a few times, squinting at the alarm clock on the bedside table until it becomes clear—7:08 a.m. you groan into the quiet room, the mattress squeaking under your weight while you shift into a more upright position. the navy blue plaid duvet falls to your hips. it unmistakably smells like andrei, and although it's a room you've stayed in before, being in here never fails to make you feel all warm and fuzzy.

there are posters up on his wall of ovechkin and a few other russian nhl stars. old hockey sticks sit collecting dust in the corner of his room, and next to them is your suitcase. andrei must've rolled it in after you got into the bed, where you undoubtedly knocked right back out.

you stretch the stiffness from your limbs before slipping out of bed. you're still in your travel clothes, so you make quick work of changing into something a little more appropriate—cut offs and an old shirt of andrei's because you really can't be bothered to dress up for 7 am breakfast—and cleaning yourself up.

after a quick trip to the bathroom where you speed run brushing your teeth and washing your face, you timidly make your way down the stairs, the noise of bacon sizzling on the stove and gentle chatter becoming louder as you enter the room.

evgeny, andrei's brother, spots you first from his spot already sitting at the dining table. he quickly swallows his gulp of tea before calling your name in welcome greeting, "hey, you're up. how was the flight?"

it causes a chain reaction really. elena and igor turn to look in your direction from where they're fussing over scrambled eggs and various meats in the frying pan—both greeting you warmly in a way that just sounds like one long jumbled scentence. evgeny's fiancee, sara, smiles and says your name in the bubbly way she does, patting the chair next to her as an invitation.

the dogs loudly barking and it's kind of a lot for this early, but you've done it all before, and easily navigate through the bustling kitchen, and the happy dog weaving through your legs, to take a seat beside sara.

"it was alright," you answer evgeny's question while sara wordlessly pours you some orange juice. it's your favourite, and elena always makes sure it's made fresh anytime you and andrei come visit. the thought of that alone has any lingering tiredness disappearing, and a absentminded smile blossoming on your face at the simple gesture.

he snickers and shoves some bacon into his mouth. "long, huh?"

"you can say that."

"sausage or bacon, y/n?" igor glances at you over his shoulder.

you hum, "bacon, thank you."

"you and andrei," his mother woos knowingly, "you're both the only people I know who love bacon as much as you do." elena holds a plate towards her husband, and once he piles some bacon beside the gooey eggs, she's placing it on the woven placemat in front of you.

"speaking of sleeping beauty," evgeny's playfully tone has you looking away from your breakfast and towards the archway that sits between the kitchen and family room. and there stands andrei,  sweatpants hung low on his hips, and hair messy like he's been running his hand through it.

you heart ticks as you lock eyes and the corner of andrei's lips turn upwards into a lazy smile.

"get enough beauty rest?" his older brother continues to tease him, earning evgeny a flick to his bicep courtesy of elena.

your brows furrow, as its only then you realize andrei wasn't in his childhood bed, but in fact, you were. "where'd you sleep?" it's not uncommon for you and andrei to share a sleeping place, even if he's on a half deflated air mattress, grumbling like a baby, while you snuggle in the cozy bed.

"the guest room — although," he shoots his mother a look, "it was hard with all the clothes that have seemingly taken over that bed." andrei rounds to the back of your chair, hovering over you while he playfully scolds his mother.

naturally you tilt your head back to continue looking at him, his mothers rebuttal comforting background noise.

he looks down at you, a half frown settling over his face. "you're squinting. you forgot your glasses, didn't you?" he reaches out and runs his thumb along the crease between your eyebrows.

the action is so soft and so sincere that you almost forget you need to reply like a normal person. "oh, right. yeah, I did."

you didn’t even realize you’d forgotten them.

andrei always notices.

he hums in what sounds like displeasure, taking his thumb off your face in favour of moving to sit on the unoocupied chair to the other side of you and sara. then andrei gulps down three huge gulps of your orange juice and just like that you forget about the butterflies in your stomach—snatching back the glass and shoving at his shoulder.

elena sits down across the table, breakfast plate piled high with eggs and fruit and sausage. it's just as mouth watering as your own plate. "you know," she starts, "you don't have to sleep in the guest room, andrei."

he shrugs, the kind of shrug that tells you he's listening to his mother but he's not actually hearing her. no, he’s too busy shoving eggs covered in pepper into his mouth. "it's no big deal," andrei stays through bites.

elena waves a dismissive hand, while she forks some cantaloupe with the other. "oh don't spare me son, I know you two share a bed, and It's alright to sleep upstairs with y/n." she pauses, a half amused and half concerned drawn look at her face. "well, I can imagine you do more than just share the bed."

you choke on your sip of juice at the same time andrei almost spits out the piece of bacon he just greedily scarfed. it earns you both curious looks from around the table. well, curious for everyone except evgeny, who looks all too amused with the way this conversation is headed.

"oh, that's okay-"

andrei cuts you off, a blush settling high over his cheeks. "mom, do not continue that thought."

"what?" she squawks, "it's completely normal for people who are together to make love."

"make love!" evengey relates with a laugh.

sara hides her face.

igor, used to his wife's antics, just stays silent. but the half smile on his face lets you know that he too is amused.

but you and andrei are like statues.

elena continues, "although i'd prefer if you didn't do anything in your childhood room, andrei. it's too nostalgic for you to just...strip it of its innocence." she forks some more egg onto her utensil, "but as soon as you guys get back to carolina, please, get to making me some grand babies."

"okay," andrei cuts her off before either of you can truly die from embarrassment. he scratches the spot near his heart awkwardly, and even in your own state of despair, you have to resist the urge to distract him. "can we save the sex talks until dinner." he trails off, muttering under his breath, "and the babies until the wedding."

it's sara who clears her throat, clearly also feeling the laughable tension—and snickering from her husband—tainting breakfast. she plasters on a smile, before shifting the conversation. thank god.

"I can't believe it took you guys so long."

you tilt your head, "what do you mean?"

sara laughs in a way that tells you she finds this whole ordeal cute. not sure if that’s the word you would use to describe it, but anyways. “to get together. you know, dating.”

"right!" you almost shout, blinking fast. without thinking, you toss your hand on andrei’s thick thigh, rubbing it briefly like some weird form of possessive affection.

at your touch, andrei tenses. you can feel it under your palm. if it wasn’t for his family all around, you would’ve face palmed right in that very moment. is this a normal thing girls do with their boyfriend? grope his thigh during family breakfast?

before you can remove your grip and regret your entire existence, andrei casually tosses his thick arm over the back of your dining room chair. his fingers stroke your shoulder over your (his) oversized shirt, wordlessly reassuring you that everything is fine.

it feels far from fine, especially with your hand starting to sweat.

“yeah,” andrei shrugs the shoulder that’s not beside yours, “guess I finally realized what was right in front of me.”

you shove some more eggs into your mouth, chewing slowly while your try to not freak out. and then andrei’s hand is on the back of your head, scratching your scalp like it’s an everyday occurrence.

why are you kind of wishing it was?

sara and elena gush, sharing knowing looks over the table. a look that says yeah, I remember falling in love with a svechnikov.

which on one hand is great—they are truly buying the whole fake dating thing.

but on the other hand—fuck, do you look like you’re actually in love with your best friend?

"I always thought the two of you would be cute together.” sara notes after swallowing her bite of whole wheat toast. “i've been telling y/n that since, what, like our engagement party in september?"

andrei makes a light noise, “is that so?” he tugs at the roots of your hair, “you never told me that.”

“mhmm,” you hum noncommittally, finishing off your glass of orange juice. you barley remembered that conversation with, at the time, newly engaged fiancée until this moment. you briefly recall you and sara, wine drunk and with a ring glittering on her finger—her smooth voice talking about you and andrei and how she thinks he’s in love with you.

you look at andrei, “didn’t cross my mind.”

“oh no?” he murmurs, voice all low and syrupy.

evgeny snorts, “get a room.”

you let out a laugh that sounds a lot like a grumbly breath, retracting your hand from andrei’s leg. you attempt to get the pitcher of orange juice but your best friend beats you to it, refilling your glass almost dangerously full—no doubt planning on stealing some more.

then andrei takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and then resting them on top the table. it so sweet and domestic and if it wasn’t doing funny things to your head, you’d probably melt at the sight.

elena grins, “awe, they’re holding hands.”

and then—

“yeah soon enough they’ll be making babies in the bathroom.”

— day 2 REHEARSAL DINNER

andrei check his watch, not impatiently mind you, because when it comes to waiting for you, andrei has all the patience in the world.

plus his mother would kick him in the butt if andrei even breathed the wrong way right now about your current lack of presence. his cousins rehearsal dinner starts in an hour, and with a 45 minute drive to the vineyard, andrei is looking to leave like, 2 minutes ago.

which is fine, because he's not just waiting on you. sara is still upstairs with you, and his mother is changing out her purse on the kitchen island because her usual handbag isn't the right shade. andrei didn't even realize there were different shades of black. but whatever.

it’s just about as andrei is about to climb up the stairs and make sure you haven't burned all your hair off and are having a breakdown in his dinosaur themed bathroom , the sound of shoes clicking on the floorboards echo through the home.

and then you're appearing, in some breezy conversation with his brothers wife while you descend down the stairs. your dress, which is the perfect shade of summer blue, swooshes coolly around your ankles, making you look like a real life princess. your hair is styled perfectly, and you've even added a little extra glitter to your eyelids and andrei thinks you look fucking ridiculously pretty.

your eyes catch his, and you falter. time slows down like honey between you and andrei, warming your skin and making your knees feel heavy.

andrei's lips part like he's going to say something, but elena waltzes into the room, igor just being her—both sporting wide smiles as the height of the evening approaches.

his mother spots you and inhales sharply. "oh wow, don't you look beautiful. andrei, honey, doesn’t she look beautiful?"

it seems to break you both out of your locked, heated gaze. you smile naturally like being polite is second nature, closed mouth and with glossy lips as you continue the rest of the way down the stairs. you gravitate next to andrei instinctively.

"yeah," andrei breathes, a half smile on his face that says something words can't yet. "she does."

and then he ruffles your hair and everything shifts again. you smack him away form your freshly done hair, but andrei just takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers as his parents usher everyone out the door.

—

the speeches go by in a flurry of laughter and emotion, warming your chest in a longing way you didn't release you held. there was one point when the best man started talking about how lovely the bride to be was, and your eyes got a little misty. which meant that there were fat tears rolling down your cheeks. andrei caught it, and instead of snickering at your emotion, he tugged you into his side, wiping your tears before they could continue to fall with his thumb, before turning his attention back to the speeches.

somehow, that was worse than him laughing.

thankfully as soon as the food came around, your stomach growled and the tears and sudden feeling of impending doom towards being single forever, disappeared. it's delicious and perfect and andrei keeps purposefully nudging his knee against yours under the table when someone makes a loud, stupid joke.

and that always ends up with you hiding your grin in his shoulder.

andrei, long clearing his own plate, snatches one of your brussels with his silver fork. right off your plate without a care.

your mouth goes agape, a half laugh falling from your lips. "hey!" you scold, "those are mine."

"sharing is caring," he reminds you, stabbing two more from the pile before raising them to his mouth.

"so?"

"so, do you want me to starve or something?" 

you quirk a teasing brow, "maybe if you savoured the taste of your own dinner, instead of scarfing it down like a neanderthal, you would actually be full."

"I can help it," andrei says around chewing, leaning in real close before continuing. "they're so buttery and delicious." clearly, andrei is trying to sound sudective and wind you up, but all you can hear is his chewing and it has you laughing, pushing him away as his voice tickles your neck.

"you're so gross." you laugh, grabbing the last full brussel that andrei was hoarding on the prongs of his fork, and then pop it into your own mouth.

he tongues his cheek as you chew up at him, a shake to his head so slow and soft that you're not even sure he's done. it's admiration, and amusement, and care—and it sends your heart into cardiac arrest.

andrei's gaze is so intense that it has a shiver running up your spine. the feeling making you straighten your posture and force yourself to look away. you don't see the way his face falls, or feel the way his heart drops.

and andrei doesn't know the way your heart has completely opened up to him in a different way. a way that reminds you of the feeling of home. of the past. of love.

"so, how'd you two meet?"

someone who you're pretty sure is a college friend of the groom, asks from across the table, looking between you and andrei curiously. his girlfriend has the same look on her face, hugging her man's arm fondly.

their display of affection makes you feel a bit funny considering you and andrei are supposed to look in love, but aren't even cuddling with one another at the dman rehearsal dinner like the very real couple.

so—awkwardly—you lean through the space between you and andrei, and wrap your arms around his bicep, your cheek resting against the crisp linen button up decorating his shoulder.

andrei shoots you a curious yet amused look. clearly he knows what you're trying to do, because he doesn't bring attention to your sudden affection. instead, he plays into it, large hand coming over your knee like this is something you two do all the time.

it must look natural enough because no one around the two of you bat an eye.

"we met at a bar." andrei says, "around the time I was drafted to the NHL."

"we've been friends for years." you add on without thinking.

a bridesmaid next to the couple nods, "and when did you realize you were in love?"

andrei laughs softly, rubbing that spot on his chest with his free hand. he swallows gently before answering the loaded question. "her laugh. that night at the bar, she was laughing at something one of her friends had said. I was naturally attracted to the sound. it was loud and real- it matched her perfectly."

andrei pauses, thumb twitching over the material of your blue dress. "and then when we started to chat, she was so patient with my broken english and bad flirting that I just..." he trails off, meeting your eyes from where you're softly peering up at him. "I fell for her that very same night."

you're pretty sure you stop breathing, and if you weren't surrounded by a bunch of strangers, you probably would've audibly gasped at that.

andrei blinks sheepishly, like he's only just taking account of what he's actually just said. he looks away form your gentle gaze and back towards the member of his cousins wedding party—who is staring at the two of you with a look he can't decipher.

andrei forces a chuckle and it's like a cold water bucket over your head. "only took me 7 years to admit it." he squeezes your knee in a way that feels like an apology mixed with truth. "but we're here now. right baby?"

"yeah," you clear your throat, his words and admission laying heavy on your heart. "we are."

—day 3 THE WEDDING

okay so you've kind of been avoiding andrei since the rehearsal dinner. and that was yesterday. it's just—you don't really know where to go from that.

even if andrei was trying to play into the whole fake relationship scheme, he literally admitted that he's been into since the night you met in that dingy raleigh bar almost 8 years ago. even if he didn't actually mean it, hearing him say those words cracked open the locked box in your chest.

when you met andrei many moons ago, you were quickly drawn to his dorky smile and shy persona. it was almost instantly that you developed some form of infatuation. and back then—drunk of course. you were in college. in a bar after all—you were much more confident.

you weren't going to let the russian slip away. not when the guy had you flustered and dipping your chin after two minutes of a half strung together conversation.

so you made sure to stay in touch. texting and calling and making andrei download snapchat so he could see how dolled up you'd get. for him.

you went out for drive thru dinners before andrei’s athletic trainer cared too much about the food he was consuming, and you watched movies with your legs tangled together in his apartment. fuck you even helped him learn english outside of his lessons.

but nothing ever happened. no moves were made because frankly, you weren't sure if he possessed the same kind of romantic interest in you.

so you pushed those feeling away. deep, deep, deep down into the spot in your heart you keep concealed to everyone, even to yourself. and you threw that damn metaphorical key in the toilet it and flushed it. twice.

friendship was good. and easy. and you could accept a friendship with him. because you still had him, regardless of your hidden feelings.

and you thought your feelings for your best friend had completely vanished in the last 8 years. until last night. when andrei and his sweet words and large mitt on your leg—stroking you and squeezing your flesh—started taking about falling for you the same night you fell for him.

surprise! feelings are coming back up the drain and soaking you.

and, oh god, the wedding. the venue which was stupidly packed and even more beautiful, decorated in lavender and baby pink, only made your feelings amplify.

because your avoidance for andrei didn't stop him from being the most patient and sweetest guy. he could tell you needed space as soon as you woke up this morning, and he walked into the bathroom to find you angrily brushing your teeth—and when you didn't send him a foamy smile from around the handle, andrei just knew something was up.

so he just sat beside you silently during the ceremony, wordlessly handing you a few tissues from his suit jacket when you began to cry during the vows. even when he didn't know your tears had nothing to do with the happy couple up at the altar, but instead the guy you've been in love with since before you knew the difference between tequila and vodka.

"you okay?" andrei asks during the journey to the ceremony outside, to the reception inside, words hushed against your ear while his hand hovers your lower back.

you nod, too quick and ridged. "just need a drink."

and drink did you ever. because two hours later once the sun has long set, and your shoes have been abandoned under the dinner table in favour of dancing, you can barley contain your drunken laughter and poorly timed singing.

you've probably had two bottles of wine to yourself.

and andrei can tell because your skin has changed shades and you no longer seem upset. which andrei knows is only because the liquor has coated your bloodstream, allowing you to forget whatever—or whoever—had upset you.

even though andrei is 99.9% positive that the reason for your cold shoulder is him. that, or the oyster joke evgeny made yesterday afternoon, but that was a long shot. it was most certainly him.

andrei watches with what he doesn't realize is a full blown pout on his face—like glistening, down turned lips, chin resting on his knuckles pouting—as you spin around with his sister in law.

not even the sound of your previous seat scraping against the floor pulls andrei out of his sad stare. it’s only when his brother nudges him that andrei blinks.

“so,” evgeny starts, voice low enough to keep the conversation between them, but still loud enough to be heard over the music. “y/n, huh?

“yeah,” andrei breathes, “y/n.” your name taste like sugar on his tongue.

evgeny nods in approval, but his lips are pursed in thought. a beat passes between them, nothing but the laughter of guests and synth pop song playing from the dj booth to be heard.

“can't say I'm suprised,” his brother eventually settles on, making andrei’s brows turn upwards in question while a rush of ice shoots through his veins. the inquiry and tone of evgeny’s statement has andrei feeling weary.

simply due to the fact that his older brother has always known andrei better than andrei knows himself.

he’s scratching at his chest again, but evgeny notices the nervous tic before andrei notices it himself. once andrei sees his brothers knowing glance though, andrei pulls his hand away so fast it’s like he’s been burnt, choosing to rap his knuckles against the table cloth instead.

andrei lick his lower lip before speaking. lis that a bad thing?”

“absolutely not,” evgeny reassures at the speed of light, voice steady. “it's just...I could tell that you loved her. always have.”

andrei laughs once—low and breathy—despite the way the words weigh on his chest. “I haven't always loved her. you're making me sound like a sad puppy or something equally as...” andrei trails off, but his brother is quick to fill the silence.

“pathetic?”

“yeah.”

“well, you are pathetic.” evgeny snorts, a playful edge to his voice that makes andrei sweaty. nervous. “when it came to her. always watching her, not subtly at all. and the flowers, and the birthdays, and that one year you couldn’t come home for christmas because y/n had the flu and you wanted to make sure she was okay.”

andrei shrugs causally, all while the weight of the truth sits like thick fog in the air. suffocating him. andrei doesn’t dare look over at you. not now. not when it will make him crumble and spill everything. “well i'm a good friend-and boyfriend.”

his brother doesn’t comment on the slip up. “I know that. but when it came to taking care of y/n and just being with her, it wasn't just about you being a good friend. it was about you loving her.”

fuck.

evgeny watches his brother carefully. he can see the way his words are affecting andrei, and the emotion pricking the heart on his sleeve.

it’s only then, when the conversation comes to another brief pause, does evgeny see the way andrei’s eyes flicker back towards your dancing, carefree frame. and instantly, he watches his younger brothers face changes.

it’s hurt.

it’s longing.

it’s unspoken love.

“it's okay to be in love andrei.” evgeny breathes slowly as if not to startle. “you've got a good one.”

a rough swallow and then andrei nods. “yeah. I do.”

“and mom loves her.”

that seems to do the trick, and it illicit a rough chuckle from andrei’s chest. “you don't say.”

“definitely more than you.”

andrei looks back at his brother, the start of an amused smile beginning to pull at his lips. “thanks dick.”

“you're welcome. and hey—now that you finally have her, never let her go.”

andrei isn’t oblivious to the underlying meaning of evgeny’s words. like he’s said, his older brother knows him well. but it doesn’t stop the panic creeping up andrei’s sternum, and the urge to deflect and deny is uncanny.

just as andrei goes to respond, you stumble into his eyesight, tripping over the air like it was a curb, and completely stealing andrei’s attention. thankfully you catch yourself before falling to the ground, but it still sends andrei’s heart into over drive.

"you okay?" evgeny asks you, his amusement clear. almost as clear as your level of intoxication.

andrei is on his feet before he even realizes that he’s stood up from the upholstered chair, standing next to you with his hand hovering over your back.

you nod with a lazy smile on your face, and your eyes completely glossed over. slowly, because you’re not completely all there, your eyes trail towards andrei. your smile grows tenfold while you grab onto his hips. “hey there. come dance with me?"

"I don't know," he breathes softly, eyes moving over your body as if he’s trying to assess you. regardless, he can’t stop the smile that blossoms across his lips. “I think it’s probably time we go? no?”

you frown playfully, swaying until your chest is pushed against his. "please? just one dance. please, I love this song."

andrei doesn’t recognize the song, and considering you play him every single song you like at least 20 times in a row, he knows you’re lying, and this is just an excuse to get him on the dance floor.

because you have seemingly pushed away your vendetta with him for the moment, andrei decides that he’s taking this opportunity to be with you while things are normal. andrei sighs reluctantly, yet with a hint of enjoyment, and that has your face lighting up—because you can see the answer before he says it.

andrei lets you lead him into the middle of the crowded dance floor and to a spot you seem acceptable before turning in his arms, wrapping your own around his shoulders while his find your waist, completely enveloping you.

the music has slowed down, casting the room with a slow, romantic haze that makes your limbs tingle.

"if you're sick of me after this week and never want to see me again, I understand." andrei mutters after a minute, thick fingers flexing around your body, like he’s fighting an internal battle. one that he seems to win, because he then is pulling you flush against him.

your eyebrows pull towards your nose. "what? no. nothing could make me never want to see you again."

“I hope this weekend hasn’t been too overwhelming,” andrei starts, voice no higher than a whisper due to your proximity. “and i’m sorry again for…springing all this on you—quite literally last minute.”

you shake your head. “i’m not upset, andrei. i’m fine, you really don’t have to worry about me.”

this time, it’s andrei’s brows that turn down. “i’m always going to worry about you, y/n,” he swallows thickly, knees bending ever so slightly so he can better peer into your drunken eyes. “you’re my best friend.”

maybe it’s the liquor, or maybe it’s pure exhaustion of fighting your feelings off for 8 years, but your bold question comes before you can deflect it. “and?”

your prompt makes andrei halt.

a beat passes and then andrei’s hand is running down the back of your head, smoothing your hair and you heart. “and.”

and right now—that unspoken knowing—is enough.

—

andrei brings you up the stairs of his childhood home two hours—and two chugged bottles of water—later. he gently guides you up the walkway, slowly and with his hand on your hip, guiding you and keeping somewhat of your stability in tact—your heels dangling from his index finger of his opposite hand.

he sits you on the edge of his navy bed once you’re back in the comfort of his old bedroom, ensuring that you’re okay before turning and shutting the bedroom door. your heels thump to the floor as he drops them next to the dresser.

andrei pulls his tie loose while spinning back on his heels. instead of the upright position he left you in, you’re now flat on your back, limbs all spread out and starfish like.

you’re not asleep. not yet. but rather grinning like a naughty child at andrei. your hair is fanned out against the covers, and there’s still some sweat lingering on your hair line from all the dancing and alcohol.

you’re quite literally glistening and andrei feels light headed.

"you can't fall asleep yet," he tells you, walking over to stand above you. with a delicate touch, he traces a finger over your thigh, and even through the material of your pale lemon dress, andrei can feel your body heat. "you have to change out of your dress, or else you’ll be mad at me when you wake up because it’s wrinkled."

you whine, "can you do it for me?”

your words are nothing but innocent, but his sex deprived brain doesn’t think the same way, and your whiny tone shoots right down to his dick. andrei swallows roughly, scratching at his chest twice before running his hand through his tousled hair.

you shift, the strapless hem of your dress slipping down just enough that it’s dangerous. andrei’s eyes instinctively dart away—just like the time they did three years ago when you’d been swimming at his place and your nipples got all pebbled under your bikini.

andrei curses under his breath.

you call his name and like the hopeless man he is, looks back at you. "please, i'm tired."

so, so hopeless.

andrei nods, grabbing ahold of your outstretched hands before pulling you back into your previous sitting position. your smile thickens and it has him feeling incredibly nervous.

"stand up for me." andrei requests quietly, and thankfully you agree with a simple nod, moving to stand on unsteady feet at the foit of the bed.

andrei doesn’t dare break eye contact. not when you’re so close that your scent is intoxicating and your bulging breasts are practically calling his name. without blinking or tearing his gaze from yours, his shaky hands reach around your body, blindly finding the clasp of your gown.

the clasp pops open, and you almost don’t catch the dress in time before it falls away to reveal your chest.

but andrei doesn’t stop there, his breathing heavy against you as he begins pulling down the small, yellow zipper. as andrei slowly begins tugging the zipper, revealing more and more of your bare skin, the more your breathing catches.

his knuckles graze against your skin, ilicting a hitched sigh from your plump, wine stained lips.

this exchange is quite possibly the hottest and most intimate thing either of you have every experienced, and nothing really has even happened. perhaps it the hesitant yet eager brushing touches that are making you light head. or perhaps it’s the eye contact between you.

it’s definitely the way your nipples have turned to diamonds, and andrei’s dick is sitting hot and heavy beneath his slacks though.

the zipper hits the end of the track with a soft clinking sound. andrei slowly lets the tag go, his hand smoothing over your hip as he begins to retract his touch.

you can feel his restraint. you can feel his desire.

"andrei," you whisper his name like a prayer. like a mantra. like it’s the password to the 8 year long puzzle between you. “i’m going to let the dress fall now.”

his gaze flickers. just far enough down to see the start of your dress and your barley concealed breasts. then, like gravity, andrei’s eyes find yours again.

“okay.” his voice is hoarse in a way that’s undeniable.

and then the dress hits the floor, the smell of your perfume puffing around you like a cloud as the material falls away. not even the smell of wine could over power your fruity scent.

he doesn’t look. he can’t. not when you’re still a little tipsy and he’s barley holding onto himself. instead, andrei brushes your hair away from your face, lingering on your cheek.

you swallow, “what are you thinking about?”

his answer comes like clockwork. “you.” andrei’s voice falters as you reach out, your much smaller fingers clumsily pulling at the buttons of his dress shirt. like your bodies know what happening before your heads do. as his summer skin becomes exposed, your hands find new home against his flesh.

andrei lick his lower lip and tilts your face up, towards his. "i'm always thinking about you."

and then, without hesitation or reluctance or anything else he’s been fronting since that night in that bar years ago, andrei slots his mouth against yours.

pushing up onto your toes, your grasp at his sides under his unbuttoned shirt, sighing against andrei’s mouth just as he does yours.

with his free hand, andrei grabs your hip, pulling your naked body flush against his, all while he expertly kisses and licks into your awaiting mouth.

after what feels like an eternity of switching between languid, slow kisses and heated hands and desperate kisses, andrei slowly guides you back down to his childhood bed, slotting between your open legs like it’s where he’s meant to be.

and perhaps, it is.

— day 4 THE MORNING AFTER

the sun beating on your back is what wakes you up the next morning. its bright and hot and too much for just opening your eyes. you groan out like a baby, pulling the covers up and over your head to further bury yourself in the cocoon of andrei’s bedding.

andrei.

your eyes snap open at a comical pace, and you sit up even quicker if that’s somehow possible. your eyes flicker towards the right side of the bed where just hours ago, andrei was curled against you. skin warm and bare against yours.

the spot is now empty.

the night comes back to you in movie like flashes. the drinking and the dancing. andrei’s calloused hands on your zipper and even more so on your skin. you sit there, still as a statue, as you remember how andrei kissed you—all over—and how his body rutted into yours like second nature.

the whispered praises and pleasure filled moans.

you remember it all.

and you remember, most of all, that you love him.

you don’t know if you should puke, cry, scream or just jump out the window. maybe all four.

you slip on the housecoat hung over the bed post, tying the string uncomfortably tight, just before slipping out of the bedroom. with last night still fresh, and your feelings practically drowning you, you know you need to find andrei—like yesterday—and tell him.

well, tell him as much as you can without choking on your own tears.

the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits your nostrils before anything else. you round into the kitchen and see elena and igor. they both grin politely, one of them offering you a drink—you’re not sure who because you’re too busy wondering where the hell andrei is to notice anything else.

the words tumble from you without a second thought, interrupting the dogs happy hopping at your ankles. “where's andrei?” and of course the cherry on top is your voice wavering.

elena’s eyes draw in confusion, her lips parting in wordless question.

“i'm here,” andrei’s familiar voice sounds from behind you. and instantly you feel like crying. he rounds to your front, looking freshly showered and clean in his shirt and athletic shorts. “you okay?”

“I just, I thought you left.” you admit, wrapping your arms around yourself as embarrassment washes over you.

“no moya lyubov,” andrei coos with his native tongue, brows pulled tight in concern. he brings you into his arms despite the way your self hug makes it a little awkward. “just putting our bags in the car so it’s all ready to go for tonight.”

“oh right,” you nod, a little dumb. you lower your voice even more before continuing. “we should talk, right?”

“yeah, we should.”

you nod again, manoeuvring in andrei’s arms until you’re able to grasp at his fingers. “come upstairs with me? please.”

he hums. “of course.”

as soon as you’re back in his navy bedroom, and the door is heard softly shutting behind you, you’re nervously wringing your hands out. “you're my best friend.” you blurt out, robe slipping off your shoulder as it is inevitably, too big. as it is obviously andrei’s robe.

he fixes the shoulder so you’re covered again. “I know.”

you continue, heart racing and voice cracking despite andrei’s calm demeanour. “and I thought that these feelings I was pushing down were unreciprocated.”

“I know,” he mumbles, pushing your hair away from your neck. “me too.”

its something in the way he’s touching you—looking at you—that has you faltering. it’s like you’re his. like he’s in—oh.

“and now.” andrei continues.

“and now,” you breathe, “and now I want to kiss you again.”

andrei legs out a laugh. “you can.”

“but not just today,” you interrupt, “I want to kiss you everyday and wake up next to you everyday because I really fucking like you.”

“well,” andrei breathes, chest puffing as he takes an impossible step closer to you. he gently but confidently takes ahold of your face in his hands. caressing you like a porcelain toy. like a prized possession. like the greatest trophy in sports. “I really fucking like you too.”

you exhale.

but he’s not quite done with his love confession. after all, he has been thinking about it since 2018. “and I always have.”

your breath catches, curiously and hope gnawing at you like a moth to a flame. “since the bar?”

“since the second you stepped foot into that bar, y/n.”

a beat passes.

“this is kind of crazy, right? is this crazy?” you laugh in disbelief, continuing to look up at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky.

“absolutely,” andrei nods, thumbs brushing over your cheek bones. “but it's a good crazy. don't you think?”

“definitely.” you mumble through the beginning stages of a sheepish smile. your fingers itch to reach out and touch andrei, and unlike everyday before this one, you allow them to.

“okay then let’s bask in the crazy, yeah?”

A/N: okay. so! this definitely got a little rushed and I can only hopes this flows well enough to follow along with. and hopefully it makes sense and you catch the drift! I went through a writers block through this fic so a lot of the parts were spaced out (writing wise.

on another note—the rom com series is still happening. i’m just not sure when it will be out. i’m hoping for at least one before the summer ends, along with a few other goodies.

jo will girls and wyjo girls, get excited.

anyways this is just to say thank you for your patience and support like always.

[hewinked]

you ever have fandom drama go down with literally all the big blogs for one fandom that you love so much, and then all the blogs you follow just start throwing tomato's at each other?

yeah thats pretty much me with the danny phantom x dc crossover tag argument thing rn

also im of the opinion that, this is kinda always how crossovers worked? you tag it with both fandoms it includes? and the tag thing is not that bad? or atleast ive had not that much trouble finding only solely danny phantom content

and i mean, danny phantom is an old fandom objectively, the only new content being some comic books which alot of people didnt read because they didnt wanna or couldnt spend money on it

it makes sense that even alot of old fans would get into dp x dc, and that because dc is such a big and active fandom in comparison, that a lot of dc fans would get into the crossovers, and become new danny phantom fans via the crossovers

but ik alot of people are arguing that they shouldnt be, because they think that dc fans have never even seen danny phantom because of small details they get wrong or mix up, which is like a whole nother "if youre in this fandom you have to know everything about the media or youre not a real fan" shaped problem that I dont care for at all

the truth is most of them probably are just going off of what they remember from their childhoods because ALOT of people watched danny phantom as a kid, and just havent had time to rewatch it fully, so yeah, theyre gonna not remember some things and have to fill in the blanks themselves or go off of what other fans say

and as far as im aware anyways, this isnt really just a dc and dp thing? Im in the miraculous ladybug fandom and fic wise alot of it is now danny phantom or dc crossovers, but ive heard no complaints and given no complaints (despite not liking them myself) because thats mainly on ao3 and you can just block it

the point im going to make is actually, that alot of the fandom on tumblr is reliant on ao3 in the first place, and like on ao3 this definitely isnt a problem, because you can block a tag easily and most people on ao3 know better then to not tag something that they have in a fic

thing is? people are used to that. it is considered heavily heavily impolite on ao3 to not tag a fandom or thing you have in the fic.

and most tumblr users are or started as ao3 users. its pretty much the same etiquette on here.

but somehow when you go on tumblr with specifically danny phantom fans? somehow people are offended by it?

thing is, same as on ao3, on tumblr you can block a tag and filter.

but lets say you are blocking that and still seeing dc crossover stuff like so many people are complaing

then isnt the problem logically that alot of these people just arent tagging the dc stuff properly then? because i imagine thats what you should be trying to block so.... why be mad that theyre tagging danny phantom when thats one of the correct tags to be using? so that anyone who wants to see crossovers plus regular content can?

like im just saying thats the logic i follow

and thats not me tryna say go and blame em for that either, im just saying youre kinda angry about something that its okay to be mad about, but you have put yourself in the wrong because your mad about the wrong thing anyways.

also even if youre mad about it, maybe stop bullying and critizing literally anyone who's writing dc and dp? like encouraging people to write what they like is the name of the game, you guys know that right?

you know you can just nicely comment without being passive aggressive or rude, and tell them that they should tag their posts a little better? and not take your anger out on them because they personally obviously dont sway the whole fandom by themselves? do you know that?

you also dont have to make big ol rant posts about how much you hate dp x dc writers for writing a crossover, that will hurt those writers feelings, and that you know will make all your followers mad at all those innocent writers also, right? you know that you don't have to and shouldn't be making posts like that right?

[19catsncounting]

I'll show my age a little on this post, because this kind of situation has just come up again, so it's a little fresh.

There are times when someone dies, and their tangible grief is small. It's not really a surprise, maybe it's even expected. The elderly and sick move into hospice centers and those rooms are much smaller than their houses, or they move in with family and those rooms are smaller than their houses. It's easy to divvy up and cherish grief when it's nice and small, a sentimental box of trinkets and a shirt.

And there are times when someone dies, and it's a burden. It is. It's hundreds of pounds of grief and crap and it will crush you like a millstone - not just because it's a lot to deal with and emotionally a lot to deal with - but because it's not your crap, but it is now. It's yours, they're not here and they don't own it and you're reminded that they're not here to own it every time you look at it. You deal with it.

When my wife's mother passed away, she lived in a two story townhouse that was filled to the brim with stuff. Tapestries, posters, pictures - the woman had a habit of tacking posters and tapestries and pictures on the ceiling because she filled up every single spare space on the wall, covering light switches too. She died in that house, and my wife at the time was a teenager, and she came home one night to find that she was now a homeless orphan. My wife could not walk back into that house to take anything because her world was simply destroyed in a way you and I will never fathom - family friends got her clothes and toiletries and some of them packed up totes of things they knew mattered a lot to my wife's mother. Some of those totes were lost over the years, others were placed in sheds or under tarps outside. My wife still grieves the things that she lost, even if we've recovered some of it. We have a record collection of 1000+ vinyls, many of which are warped and damaged and frankly smell like rodent urine. And we will likely have those vinyls forever - hundreds of pounds of grief that are heavier than a human body, but not at all equal to a life.

There's a lot of notes on this post, a lot of tags, and I don't think many of the people writing them have ever been in this kind of situation.

I don't think a lot of folks would realize that the Winchester house was damaged in a fire. And that smoke leaves a smell. And that smell would linger to the point that - canonically, in this episode it is established - John and his sons did not sleep in that house again, and instead stayed with John's boss. Probably because it smelled like the fire for weeks or months afterwards.

And John packed up the kids in the car and left. Probably left the mortgage unpaid until the bank foreclosed on it due to default, which would have taken years to finalize and process, and longer to restore the house to the point that it could sell if the repairs weren't completed before John left - and they most likely weren't. But in the meantime, someone boxed up those photos that were recently taken prior to the fire (and I might have to explain to some younger fans that physical pictures like that don't often go directly into storage - in the late 1900's, when a family took pictures on a dedicated device called a 'film camera' and took those primitive film cartridges to be developed, they would change out the photos in existing frames or hang up new ones), and put them in the basement, where they would be safe from the elements, the gaping hole where the fire burned out the wall and roof. And in the basement, those pictures and the paper and any fabrics would lose the smoke smell.

It could have been a family friend, going inside the house to sort things out, but I imagine that family friend would have taken the box to their own storage as that would be more sensible. And it could have been a firefighter who managed to grab a box, grab a few things, and hand it off to a grieving father with his arms full, before telling him that the carpets and walls will be soaked from the hoses for a few days, and what companies to call to do restoration services.

And it could have been John, walking through the least-touched areas of the house on his own - the living room, the kitchen, but not up the stairs. He could have picked up a few things, put them in a box, put the box in the basement so it'd be safe while the restoration crew worked on the house, it wouldn't take up any room at any place he and his boys are staying at and always running the risk of outstaying their welcome. And John could have put that box in the basement, planning to come back to it.

And then didn't, because he couldn't, just like Dean didn't either. Because John found out the truth about the demon, and had a white whale to catch to avenge his wife instead of being forced to move on as he would have without that.

If John didn't find out the truth, he would have gone back to the house, but he didn't. Even when he left, in the early years, he always planned to go back to the house. But he didn't. Because the house still smelled too much like smoke.

i've always been pretty distraught about how john left behind a box of family phots in the basement when he took the kids out of kansas. to have so little left after the fire and to still leave what little there was behind... i mean we know at least sam has a picture of mary and john and there is a picture of john and the boys in 1.01 but that's from after the fire.

but ALSO i've realized in the same box there's a handmade card that says "DaD" that Dean must have made for john.

that john also left.

i know john was going through a period of immense grief. but there's something very painful about such tangible evidence of the way dean's childhood - and even the memory of it - was left behind.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Kalim Al-Asim - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

It's gonna be my birthday, so I wanna learn to be able to do more things. Let me think... Like maybe waking up by myself?

Summon: A pajama party sounds awesome! We can play games, and eat snacks... Let's try it sometime!

Groovification: Getting ready in the morning is so fun when I get to do it with everyone! Today feels like it'll be a great day!

Home:Okay, time to put on my makeup!

Swap Looks: Ahahah, that's some bedhead!

Home Transition 1: Silk loungewear is so smooth and comfy～ Even on hot days they're nice to wear, since it breathes well.

Home Transition 2: My dad sent me a bunch of accessories all adorned with huge gemstones. I think I'll wear them for the next banquet!

Home Transition 3: I was just dancing in my room and almost tripped! Thankfully, the magic carpet flew in and saved me.

Home Transition - Login: I love birthdays. I get tons of people reaching out to me, so I look forward to it every year.

Home Transition - Groovy:  We're gonna be throwing a bash this evening at the dorm. You wanna come? Oh yeah, I should invite Sebek too!

Home Tap 1: Look at this! This pearl Floyd gave me has a funny shape, don'tcha think? He said he found it while preparing some oysters.

Home Tap 2: I ran into Ace out front the Mystery Shop, and he bought me some juice since it was my birthday! I gotta return the favor sometime!

Home Tap 3: Sometimes my siblings like to sleepover with me. Whenever they do, Jamil'd always read a book to them.

Home Tap 4: Oh, hey, one of my dormmates left this board game here when he came to hang out yesterday. I should challenge him one more time when I bring it back to him!

Home Tap 5: I forgot something? Oh, this hairband is mine? It's newly-bought, so I didn't even recognize it. I just thought it was someone else's!

Home Tap - Groovy: Thanks for coming to my birthday party. We're gonna hold another banquet soon, so you should definitely come with Grim!

Duo: [KALIM]: Let's eat some cake, Sebek! [SEBEK]: Kalim-senpai, I accept your offering!

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for celebrating my birthday! Oh, hear me out a sec. Cater and Lilia are gonna throw me a party in my room, so I was wanting to give those two a surprise, too. But I can't really think of a good idea to surprise them back... What do you think I should do? I should give each of them a letter with my heartfelt feelings? That's perfect! I'll try that, they're both bound to love it! Oh yeah, I'll write you a letter too. 'Specially since you're always looking out for me!

Requested by Anonymous.

[itneverendshere]

hey hun, idk if you taking any request but maybe you can make something about this. so you know sombr just released his song 'we never dated' and i was thinking if you can write something based on the song with rafe × reader, love you💖

a lil something i put together during my lunch break, enjoy 💘

he’s drunk again, the thinking-about-you kind.

his head tilts against the seat of the truck he hasn't driven in months, still parked in the beach house garage, waiting for something that’ll never come back.

rafe taps the red solo cup against his lip and closes his eyes.

it’s that song, the one wheezie showed him earlier, and he'd pretended to hate immediately.

"how come we never even dated but i still find myself thinking of you daily? why do you always leave me achin' when you were never mine for the takin'?"

rafe’s never wanted to punch a radio more.

it’s true, all of it. you never dated, but he loved you. that was the worst kind of heartbreak; he couldn't claim anything real, be angry or bitter or jealous. he couldn't point a finger in your direction and accuse you of breaking him because you never belonged to each other.

he never had the right.

you've always been too shiny for him. inherently good. more than a pretty face — though, yeah, you were that too and more.

rafe knew it before anyone else ever said it.

he knew you when you were still the skittish girl with lipgloss always smoothed over your mouth and that light blue cashmere sweater you wore every third thursday like clockwork.

you were sweet, but not naïve, you grew up learning how to smile through kook parents’ cocktail parties and could tell when a guy was trying to flirt or manipulate you in under three seconds.

rafe cameron wasn’t slick enough for you. he just happened to be there, at the right time, in the right places, saying the wrong things and hoping you'd want him anyway.

you did.

god, you did.

one summer, two friends who weren’t friends yet, thrown together because their parents played nice at yacht club dinners and pretended that the pogues didn’t matter as long as their kids stayed clean and polished.

you'd asked him once, on the beach at sunset, when everyone else was passed out or making out or passed out making out, why he always looked so angry.

rafe had blinked, caught off guard by your astuteness, replied with something stupid like, “m'not angry. don’t like people.”

you had smiled, close-lipped. “you seem to like me though.”

he hadn’t said anything, but you were right. he did, even when he shouldn’t have. especially when he shouldn’t have.

it got worse in senior year.

that was when he started noticing the finality of it. you were still walking around in ballet flats and sundresses and raising your hand first in ap lit — but it was all coming to an end, wasn't it? the idea of a you and him, the fantasy.

you were going places. real ones, far-far away, with brick libraries and stone archways and out-of-state dorms. you had a list, and rafe wasn’t on it.

he saw it coming the day you mentioned early decision.

“i’m thinking of brown,” you had confessed in a dreamy tone, chewing the end of your straw.

rafe had nodded, tossing a pebble across the dock water. “yeah?”

“you think I could get in?”

you could get into heaven if you asked nicely. instead, he shrugged again.

“duh.”

you laughed, that hiccup laugh that always made his stomach drop to the pits of hell, and leaned into his side for a second, enough to make him want more. that was the problem.

he always wanted more. of your voice, your time, skin against his. more jokes, more silence, more anything you’d give him. you were meant to leave and he was stuck in this fucking awful place, barely making it out of high school.

people talked about you two, always did.

assumed you were together, and he pathetically let them think what they wanted because it was easier than the truth: he was a guy in love with a girl he never kissed, too scared to try and pull you down with him.

rafe watched you date other people. preppy kooks with clean sneakers and trust funds and internships. it didn’t matter, it made sense, even when he drove past your house a little slower after those dates.

he always looked at you longer the next morning when you sat across from him in the café. sometimes, he swore you looked back.

the party your parents decided to put together that fateful night for you was too loud, or rafe simply grew to resent the sound of other people being happy.

he stood by the railing on the second-floor landing, a typical red solo cup warm in his hand, watching the celebration spiral out under the candle lights below. your backyard had been transformed, long tables dressed in linen, picture boards of you growing up, a cake with congratulations, brown university! piped in frosted gold, and people everywhere, drunk off champagne and privilege.

he hated it.

he'd been gawking at you laughing under those lights. you wore white tonight, tailored pants and some shimmery top that sparkled when you moved. your hair was half up, the way he always liked it.

you were leaving in two days. earlier than expected. the early admission program at brown, your parents were ecstatic, toasting to the future with rosé wine and proud tears.

rafe only found out three days ago, from wheezie, who overheard your mom on the phone ordering dorm essentials to be shipped ahead of time.

he didn’t possess the energy to be surprised.

that this was it, the last night. the last time he’d maybe ever see you outside of random instagram posts and christmas visits. the final hour of whatever not-thing they were.

you never promised him anything, and he had nothing to offer. only half-mumbled jokes and every piece of his heart that he tried not to hand over, one by one, every time you looked at him like he mattered.

he was drunk again.

he couldn’t say goodbye properly, or force himself to go down there and hug you like a normal person. couldn’t say, “i'm happy for you,” without gagging on the bitterness in his throat.

he did what he always did.

avoided the situation.

he was mad you were leaving, leaving earlier. you didn’t give him time to work up the courage to spit out the truth once and for all.

his legs carried him toward the kitchen, eyes on the floor, shoulders hunched.

“rafe.”

you voice was always soft with him.

you stood there in the hallway. fuck, you looked so pretty, unfairly so.

summer and home and everything he didn’t get to keep.

“i was wondering if you were gonna hide all night."

"wasn’t hiding.”

you raised a skeptical eyebrow. “right.”

rafe looked away first, he always did with you. you made him stupidly nervous, still.

"you’re mad.”

“’m not.”

“you’re mad i’m leaving.”

he scoffed. “you were always gonna leave. what’s the point in being mad about it now?”

your expression faltered, rafe hated himself for it.

“i thought… you’d at least say goodbye,” you whispered.

"didn’t think you’d notice if I didn’t.”

“rafe.”

he took a step back. he had to, orr he’d grab your hand and beg you to stay and make a fucking fool of himself.

“i can’t do this tonight,” he mumbled. “go back to your party, yeah?ivy league’s waiting.”

“wait a minute—”

“have fun up there, alright?”

perhaps, if he hadn't been too tipsy, he would've spotted the same ache in your eyes that was bleeding through his.

your jaw clenched, that twitch he caught when you were trying not to cry. shit, that was gonna fuck him up later. that look.

“you’re being such an asshole,” you bit out, quietly.

he huffed a laugh that wasn’t amused. “yeah. guess ’m just playing my part, huh?”

you blinked. “what does that even mean?”

“you—” he started, then cut himself off. shook his head. “you’re actin’ like this is some big surprise. you were always gonna choose that life. brown. new friends. better everything. that was the plan, right?”

“i never said that,” you shot back, voice trembling now.

you were all dolled up in a way he hadn’t seen before, sparkly earrings catching the kitchen light. you didn’t look like the girl he used to skip class with and lie on the pier beside.

but you were.

“you made your choice, didn’t you?” he muttered. “early program. gone before the summer’s even over.”

“i earned it, rafe. because i worked for it—”

“and what about me?” he snapped, suddenly. voice louder than either of you expected. “i bust my ass tryin’ to graduate with you. and you couldn't tell me this? i did it—for what? so you could feel sorry for me on your way out?”

that was new low. he regretted it the second he said it.

“that’s not fair."

“yeah? neither is you leavin’ me here and expectin’ me to clap for you.”

“i never asked you to wait for me,” you were pleading now, not accusing. “i never asked you to do any of that.”

“i know, god, i know,” rafe snapped. “that’s the problem. you never looked back, did you? not once.”

“that’s not true.”

“isn’t it?”

your hands curled against your outfit, wrinkling the fabric.

“i care about you."

he let out a breath through his nose, humorless.

“yeah?” he muttered. “i love you.”

real. pathetic, even. the most honest thing he’s ever said in his life.

your lips parted but he intervined before you could salvage his reputation.

“still not enough reason for you to stay, is it?”

your breath hitched, your eyes went wide. you weren’t expecting him to say it. the possibility had lived in the space between you two for so long, you thought it'd stay silent forever.

he had too. now it was out there, and you didn’t say it back.

“that’s what I thought,” he said, voice flat now.

you looked like you were about to cry. rafe looked like he already had.

“why are you doing this now?” your voice trembled with confusion. “i’m not leaving forever!"

you meant it, you thought a couple thousand miles and a new life wouldn’t erase this not-thing, wouldn’t bury him beneath everything you’d go off and become.

rafe, despite his many flaws, wasn’t stupid. hope wasn't a luxury he could afford.

he laughed, more of a breath than anything real.

“you might as well be.”

your brows pulled together. “what—”

“i never want to see you again,” he ripped the bandage off, even though it hurt more. “okay? just—just go. go to your early program, to your dorm, to your perfect fucking life with your perfect fucking people, and let me get over you in peace.”

your face twisted, the pain blooming across.

“you don’t mean that.”

“don’t i?” he snapped, stepping backward before he got close again, and broke completely. “what’s left of this, huh?”

he could only hear your shaky breath and the sound of someone laughing downstairs.

"so yeah, do me a favor — don’t text me when you miss home. don’t check in. don’t come back here thinking everything’s the same.”

you blinked, tears building in your lashes.

“rafe…”

he looked away, couldn’t watch you cry and still walk out of his life.

you can’t miss someone you never had, right? the only thing he had were his regrets.

[520-elic]

I love your headcannons! what dates do you think the creepypasta would take the reader on?

The creeps (Ticci Toby, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, & BEN) date headcanons

Author notes ; the reader is gender neutral. And if I missed any of the creeps that you were hoping for me to write for, you could tell me who to write for next time! :) also I've been very busy sorry about that

Contains; fluff

Ticci Toby

He's such a lover boy. He would probably save up enough money to get you flowers or take you to the movie theaters

Prefers calmer places, so he would take you to eat take-out food with him at the park at night and call it a date, or will take you on top of the hills to stargaze with you

Showers you with affection during dates!!! He will hold your hand, kiss you almost every 5 minutes, run his hands over your body, etc.

He tries to bring you flowers that he hand-picks himself. Toby will also bring small trinkets that remind him of you!

He'll also most likely bring some type of taxidermy to you. Teeth, bones, one time Toby even got you a taxidermy rat in a little suit

The most hungry mf on a date. Remember how I said he'd take you out to fast food places as a date? That's 90% of the time

Yknow that one scene in Lady and the Tramp with the spaghetti? He tried that once with you, and it ended up with the noodle coming out of the gash of his cheek with tomato sauce coming out as well. He made a mental reminder to always wear a bandage over it even if he's home

When you suggested making cookies with him during a date, he took them out with his bare hands. Yeah..

"O-oh baby, I can't feel pain. Remember?" While you're putting cream onto his palms that now have 2nd degree burns.

The petnames that Toby will call you is; baby, sweetheart, my girl/boy

Jeff the Killer

Movie hop, driving around, and gas station dates.

He doesn't buy you much since he claims that "Since we're on a date, it should be enough" but he will get you a single rose or weed LMAO

Smoke sesh!!! Jeff loves making out with you in his room while you two are high out of your minds

Also, he's very clingy when you two are alone, it's very different to how he treats you in public. In public, the most he'd do it put a hand on your waist or an arm over the shoulders. But in private? His hands are all over you as if he's trying to memorize every patch of skin on your body

Once he gave you a glass vial of his own blood. Do not ask questions about it

Jeff prefers parallel play as a date, but he wouldn't want to be far too away from you. If you comment about him being clingy, he won't be around you for atleast a week

ALL OVER YOU. I have to say this again just to get my point across. And if you dress nice for the date? oh my god, you are not gonna get away from him

"Cmon babes, I'm tryin' to show you off over here! It's not like every day someone sees a handsome guy like me and a beautiful thing such as yourself."

The petnames that Jeff will call you is; sweetcheeks (jokingly), sexy, babes

Eyeless Jack

Jack also prefers quieter spaces for dates, such as late-night walks, aquariums, etc.

He talks a lot to you during dates since he can't get much visual input from them. If you insist on "watching" a movie with him, he'll take it as listening to a podcast

Please read or cook for him, he'll melt inside

Cook him kidneys, and he'll gobble it up in 0.2 seconds flat.

He wouldn't really show affection during dates, but more so subtly; his head on your shoulder/lap, his claws running uo and down your arm, etc. Just things to keep you on your toes

He'll do chores around the mansion with you as a date as well since it means you get to spend time with him while doing something productive

"Relax hon, just trying to get comfortable.."

The petnames that Jack will call you is; honey, dear, babe

BEN

ARCADES!!! He will rig every game for you to win a bunch of tokens/tickets to get as many prizes as you want

BEN has a big appetite since he can't really feel hunger, so once he gets a taste of some type of food, he's going at it. Yes, he'll go for a 4th plate of whatever it is. Which also means dinner dates! (It's just fast food lmao)

Cooking dates. Pls.

He'll let you upcycle some of his clothes and such with you, just so he can remember the moment and have a piece of you with him

Big on affection during his time with you. His hands? Somewhere uo your shirt to keep hold of you. His legs? Around yours, not wanting to get up and face responsibilities

Gaming dates, of course. You two in his room, shouting insults at each other like it's nothing while playing a round of COD. Playful pushes back and forth while yelling how one of you guys will be the winner

"You piece of crap, I'm about to win!" As he's cuddling right next to you on the floor.

The petnames that BEN will call you is; a shortened version of your name, babe, sweetums

[babygirl-collector]

General NSFT Dirk Deveraux Headcanons

A/N: Okay, so. This is my first time writing in literal years. So uh. Headcanons it is to start out! This will probably be super bad, but it’s fineeeee. I’ll live. I hope. Anyway, please be nice and don’t kill me if this is horrible. It's my first time writing anything smutty. Ever.

Headcanons contain: Submissive Dirk, dom/sub (brat) dynamic, Dirk having mommy issues, service sub/top(? Idfk what term to use,) praise kink, humiliation kink, degradation kink, Dirk being a horny weeb who’s into fandom stuff, scent kink Dirk propaganda, dry humping his dakimakura, cosplay stuff, pegging, marking (I guess???,) wearing dirty underwear, voice kink (reader’s end,) cockwarming

Word count: 1203

➢ First thing first, I’m a firm believer of submissive Dirk who’s willing to do whatever to please his partner. I just can’t look at him and say in good faith that he wouldn’t love being made into a whimpering, submissive mess. I also just sort of got the vibe from Dirk and Harper’s interactions that Harper was being dominant in bed at least some percentage of the time, but that’s besides the point.

➢ It’s pretty evident that Dirk has mommy issues, and considering his mother’s permissive parenting style, Dirk definitely likes being put in his place. It’s to the point he’d ask for you to agree to established rules and punishments, and have some sort of dom/brat dynamic. It can be just for him, the both of you, for you, or some mix in-between. As long as he can be put in his place when he wants it, then he’ll be happy.

➢ He’s also 100% into being told what to do and just pleasing you in general. Like, it’s literally stated in his likes that he likes being told what to do. This is also part of the reason I imagine he’d want rules and punishments established. Not only to break them, but also to follow them to please you. I’m sure he’d also be happy to dom due to this, or try out whatever you’re into. As long as it makes you happy, then he’s down.

➢ This leads nicely into my next point: Dirk having a praise kink. Call him a good boy, tell him he did a good job, or anything similar to that after making him submit— especially after a punishment or having him perform a task— and he’ll just be a melting mess in your arms.

➢ And because I can’t see him without it: to go alongside his praise kink, I’d also imagine he’s into humiliation and degradation. He’s a very dirty boy, as Harper put it so eloquently. Not to mention he blushed directly after that specific line, so it just makes sense if you ask me.

➢ Dirk also reads and/or watches hentai, yaoi, and yuri. There’s no doubt in my mind. He’s a nerd and borderline a weeb, too, so there’s literally no way he isn’t down that rabbit hole already. Same goes for smutty fanfics about his favourite characters, be it Bat-Man or someone else. He’ll definitely also write his own smut about you, him, and Bat-Man doing all his dirtiest fantasies. Maybe he’ll even commission fanart of the three of you together in all types of horny scenarios.

➢ When he horny and trying to hint at what he wants, he’s either teasing as hell, attempting to distract you by— oh, I dunno— walking around in nothing in his boxers, all the while acting like he doesn’t know whatever he’s doing is making you all flustered and horny. Or, alternatively, he’ll just be super sweet and touchy. Be it cuddles, kisses, massages, other forms of physical affection, or just outright asking you. He won’t be opposed to pleading and begging for it either.

➢ I’m also a victim of scent kink Dirk propaganda. There’s no way you can convince me that man doesn’t have a thing for your smell and musk at this point. He is literally your dirty laundry. It’d just tie into that theme so nicely, and I’d be doing everyone a disservice by not adding him having a scent kink into these headcanons.

➢ Dirty underwear, sweat-stained shirts, things drowned in the scent of your beauty products, perfume, deodorant, cologne, the smell of your slick and/or cum— even the smell of your period if you have one of those. You name a stench connected to you— good or bad— and he’s probably already getting hard just thinking about it.

➢ And of course that scent kink can be tied back to everything else. He’ll definitely have at least one of the rules be that he can’t jerk off to your dirty clothes without explicit permission first. And he’ll get so fucking aroused and horny when you tease- or degrade him about stealing your underwear to do all those humiliating and  embarrassing things to.

➢ Will get extremely turned on if you dry hump his Bat-Man dakimakura, or just somehow involve the dakimakura in general. What’s better than one of his partners being horny and sexy? Two of them being horny and sexy!

➢ Dirk will most likely also be down for sex in cosplay. Be it you, him, or the both of you. It can be cosplays of characters you both simp for, cosplays of characters you ship together, or whatever else you can think of. Just pray that neither of you have any costume malfunctions.

➢ Would be down to getting pegged. That’s it for this one. Not much else to be said.

➢ In a similar vein to Dirk being into scents, I’m certain he also likes getting physically messed up or physically messing you up. Spit and juices painting skin, lovebites and hickeys aching so nicely, being unable to not drool. Whoever it is getting fucked up like that, he really doesn’t care.

➢ He’s also into either of you cumming into your underwear and then being made to wear those dirty underwear for the rest of the day. Sure, it might be uncomfortable and gross, but that’s what’s so hot about it. In his eyes, at least. Not to mention it’s a little humiliating.

➢ Dirk is also extremely aware that his voice is considered attractive. And if he somehow finds out that you’re into it, then he’s certainly abusing that knowledge. Be it talking dirty to you in a husky tone, or moaning so loudly that the neighbours will probably hear. If he’s realized already, that is. Otherwise it’s just the other objects that have to be subjected to it.

➢ Is really into having his cum stay inside you long after you’ve had your fun. He won’t force you to not clean yourself up, but he’ll certainly be a little disappointed. If he’s the one receiving, though? Then he sure as hell isn’t letting your cum out until he absolutely has to, or until it gets too uncomfortable for him to handle.

➢ Is certainly into cockwarming. Be it while he’s just reading one of his comics, or while the two of you are cuddling. It’s a nice sense of intimacy to him no matter if he’s the bottom or top. That, and whoever is bottoming can always start clenching fuck with the top. He loves it as both foreplay and as a thing to do afterwards for aftercare.

➢ Speaking of, Dirk is a big cuddler when it comes to aftercare. He has some water nearby, too, usually, since he gets pretty thirsty after a good fucking. He’ll gladly share if you need some water, as well. He’ll probably also request some words of affirmation that he did great and that you love him, and will automatically return the favor since he assumes you’d want some, too.

➢ Dirk will do whatever aftercare otherwise asked of him. Even cleaning you up, despite him feeling a little disappointed that you don’t wanna keep his cum and spit on you. He won’t really say anything about it, though.

[thecorefrisk]

Um, here’s my suggestion to the DP fans who want to only DP content… why not make your own tag??

I’ll probably sound passive aggressive when saying this but I understand. It’s super frustrating trying to find content for one fandom and then seeing completely different content.

Why not make a ‘dp only’ tag? That way anyone could find any sort of Danny Phantom only content without having to scroll through countless of other works to get to it.

I get it, it’s much more easy to put up a wall than build a bridge but creating an entirely new tag for yourselves can also be a rather constructive choice!

(My only question is… why is this an issue now rather than earlier? Is this something a lot of DP fans have been already thinking or it more so a recent thing??)

—

Edit: I posted something similar in the comments and I have a reblog up for anyone to see but I’ll say it here as well! This post was likely founded in my own hurt!! I personally think it felt entitled for me to say, someone else said it sounded condescending. Those two things don’t exactly contradict each other!!

(But the condescension part might’ve been just my lack of understanding of how my words come across to others due to the autism thing, but y’know, no excuse unless my entire family also happened to die before I wrote this. Which did NOT happen if you’re wondering, I’m just scared they will and that’s like, super different.)

I have had a history of being pushed out of things and spaces in which I should’ve been accepted into (ex: autism spaces, other fandoms, friendships). I was trying to ‘nice’ and also give my own opinion at the same time. (A skewed opinion.) I knew the whole discourse made me feel… bad but I didn’t know where it came from and I just posted this in an impulsive decision.

Not necessarily to go ‘ha! Losers!’ But to put up sort of shield to defend myself. So, I am sorry. For the condescension and for the passive aggressiveness. I already knew that was a problem in my speech but I didn’t realize it was THAT bad.

Uhh, let me review the things I did wrong. (I like lists.)

First off, I disregarded a group of people’s feelings for my own. Second, I decided to ‘bring up a solution’ that was more so a half assed compromise which was likely already someone else’s suggestion as well. Third, I also just so ‘happened to forget’ that the DP tag… WAS your tag. That you should be able to go through it without someone else shoving content from a different fandom in your face in all directions.

I mean, if I want my feelings to be heard, I should be hearing other people’s feelings too. It’s not fair for me to bring up my own opinions, expect them to be taken as seriously as anybody else’s, and then not give that treatment. And also I should probably learn impulse control?? I think I have a grip on it unless I feel hurt. Otherwise I’m fine.

It was probably, to me, that the post I first saw about it made it feel like people were going ‘…get out?’ (The post I saw was one asking for people to exclusively use the DP x DC tag for those kinds of posts. Which, in itself, is actually not a bad idea and would allow for further freedom as people are allowed to be separate but connected to the DP fandom and perhaps even the DC fandom.)

Basically, I was projecting my own past trauma onto this random person who just felt frustrated they had to scroll past what felt like a million posts just to get to the fandom they wanted to see. And the kind of posts they saw, might’ve not been the kind that they wanted to see at all which is even more frustrating. They likely wrote in a moment of frustration and it kind of came off as such in their writing. But that doesn’t mean that my reaction is their fault in the slightest.

It means I had a reaction to something I felt was hurtful. I’ve written this line before but when I sat down and actually thought about it all it felt all the truer. ‘They aren’t trying to give you a bad time, they are having one’. I made it about me— which was not cool of me.

So, again, I am sorry. I hope this comes across as me actually taking accountability for my actions and not another passive aggressive fat amount of text like I fear it will be.

Thank you, though! To the people who were so, so nice in the comments. You weren’t, like, mean to me about this even though I was sounding pretty bratty. Some were a little frustrated but it was in a way that I could understand and your hearts were all in the right place. Because even though this seems very small— a fandom having a space on Tumblr to be able to see their own content— it gives people a place where they can meet people who like the same things and even make friends out of it. And you also expressed your thoughts in a way that I could get! Which was super sweet, thank you so much. :>

Mwah, mwah, love you!! 🫶🏼

[cripplecharacters]

in a story I'm writing I have a character that uses a cane for instability and pain mostly in his legs. There is no specific diagnosis because it's magic based. But he is a superhero that gets his power from a separate magical force, and the part of the power is to enhance all physical ability strength, agility, ect. So would it a) be reasonable for him to no longer require a cane while in the super hero form and b) be officive or harmful in any way for him to no longer use a cane in those instances? I don't want to make it seem as though you can't be a hero or anything like with disabilities.

Thak you for you time and help!

Hello!

If the power is to enhance these attributes (strength, agility, etc.), then would it just be enhancing what's already there? If so, he'd probably still have these issues with his leg.

Personally, I really wish people would stop taking away their disabled character's disability when they're superheros. I've seen a lot of series do this (especially with magical girls-style heroes) and it's really quite unfortunate to see.

Why can't your character be a superhero with a mobility aid? Especially in this kind of situation, where his main problems are pain/instability -- which don't exactly stop him from being a superhero.

I also think that keeping his disability as a factor when he's a superhero opens the door for far more creativity and world building.

For one thing, you can consider how the world/city would react to having an obviously disabled superhero.

How does the media treat him? Do they tend to take a pitying or inspiration porn angle? Do they treat him like any other superhero? Does it change throughout the story? How does he respond to it?

How does the general population treat him? How about the disabled community in particular? I can't speak for everyone but I've always loved seeing disabled superheros. There's something about seeing somebody with your same problems being powerful that's really motivating/inspiring almost. I imagine that feeling would be increased if the superhero in question was real.

How do his teammates treat him (if he has them)? How do his villains treat him?

Keeping your character disabled when they're a superhero opens the door for all these different considerations, which can lead to some great character development/interactions.

Maybe your character's disabled fans put him on a bit of a pedestal and that's something he has to navigate. Maybe the media starts by talking about him in a pitying way or questioning his use/abilities and changes the tune after he wins a tough battle (though I think it'd be nice to have somebody acknowledge that treating him that way was kinda fucked up either eay). Maybe a villain doesn't want to fight him because he's disabled -- would your character take advantage of that in any way? How would they navigate the situation?

I'd really urge you to have him keep his disability/mobility aid as a superhero. It makes the story far more interesting to actually find ways to navigate the situation rather than take the easy way out AND it would be very refreshing to see a disabled superhero that isn't cured by their superpowers.

I'd suggest taking a look through some of our posts on #disability erasure and #disability negating superpowers as well as the helpful posts linked in our pinned post. There's some on disabled superheroes and navigating disability and superpowers that I think you'll find helpful.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[writingdevil]

Hiii Devil!!! [emerges from the ground all dirty and half-dead] You know very well how normal I've been over your latest Skeptunist fic, I've been yapping about it nonstop-

Anyways, I will scream and explode if you write a part 2 to that fic where Skeptic apologizes to Oppy for the argument and all the awful things he said to him. I would cry at this scene from Oppy POV, but Skeptic POV will definitely make me scream too skfkskf

Anyways! I go back into the ground now, thank you again for writing my previous request [I have been thinking about it a concerning amount /lh], and thank you for everything you do!! <3

(How did you get in the ground in the first place?!/silly. Anyway, YES- I've been dying to write a conclusion to this because it breaks my heart to break my ship's hearts. So I'm so excited to write this part, and thank you for everything you do as well, because you make me just as feral about Skeptunist. Enjoy!)

Part One

'You're useless when it comes to thinking about anything other than yourself!'

'You're useless-'

Useless. Useless.

That's all Opportunist was.

It was a truth that had been in the back of Opportunist's mind forever, but having it shoved so plainly in his face now, it was hard to deny it any longer.

Opportunist really was a selfish monster.

It felt as if his mind was torturing him, not letting him move on from that incident. He woke up and saw his face, he tried to do something and he heard his voice- Opportunist tried to do literally anything and he was just reminded of that day.

'You're useless when it comes to thinking about anything other than yourself!'

He felt his heart break into tinier pieces. Oh, Skeptic.

It's been two weeks since that day, and the more time that passes, the more time that Opportunist had to reexamine his own actions, and there was a clear conclusion to come to.

Opportunist hadn't changed.

He was still just a heartless, manipulative backstabber, who was more than willing to lie to his own flock.

If Skeptic, the sharpest of them all, the person that claimed to know the real Opportunist, thought that, then how could it not be the truth?

The worst part though, was that Opportunist didn't even know he had been manipulating Skeptic.

Opportunist had been guarded at the start, of course, but it felt like Skeptic had approached him differently, not with caution, but with an open mind, as if he didn't care if Opportunist would betray him or not.

Opportunist actually thought that Skeptic saw something good in him, saw something worth giving his love for, and all those happy moments that they shared afterwards.

Opportunist said that he loved Skeptic.

Too bad it was all a lie.

He should've known that nobody would like what was behind the mask. He should've known that everyone thinks about themselves, even subconsciously.

He should've known that he wasn't worthy of love.

Opportunist has always been afraid- a secret that he will take to his grave. He was always afraid that there was something more powerful, more stronger, more sinister than him, and that they would attack Opportunist when he least expects it, so it was simply better to play both sides until he knew which side was the winning one.

But with their newfound freedom and no cabin to endure, there suddenly wasn't a side to pick- just birds that knew Opportunist would betray them at the drop of a hat.

That put him in a difficult position, one where Opportunist was just terrified all the time, that his efforts of pleasing and playing nice to the others would all be in vain and he would be alone forever.

But then Skeptic came along and changed everything Opportunist thought about himself- or so he thought.

Opportunist thought he was in love with Skeptic, that he cared about him and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Turns out, Opportunist just clung to the first and only person that gave him a chance.

Opportunist took advantage of Skeptic's kind and inquisitive nature, and sunk his claws into him, to the point that he made Skeptic fall in love with a mask of himself. He made Skeptic believe that he was loving and funny and caring- but what he really was, was a coward, who couldn't stand to be alone.

So he tricked Skeptic into loving him, and now Skeptic knows the truth.

Opportunist thought he cared about Skeptic's wellbeing. He thought he wanted Skeptic to relax for the good of his health. But it was all so that he wouldn't leave Opportunist, but Opportunist pushed him too far.

He really was fucking useless.

He couldn't even keep a partner from overworking himself, and now Opportunist was more aware than ever that he was so willing to deceive people, that it was practically second nature to him.

So Opportunist decided not to feed into that nature anymore. He holed up in his room, thinking about Skeptic over and over again.

His heart had never been more shattered, and he's never been more afraid of his own mind.

He didn't leave his room. He tried not to talk to others, but Hero and Hunted always checked in on him at least once, to make sure that he ate something. Opportunist would've ignored them, but he knew that they would make a scene about it otherwise, so he pulled together a shoddy mask and accepted the food, only taking a bite or two. He didn't deserve their kindness.

He spent his days curled up in his bed. The first few days, Opportunist cried his heart out, harder than he's ever cried before. Then, his brain went wild with thinking of ways to beg for Skeptic's forgiveness, because Skeptic was always right, and Opportunist wanted to prove that he did still love him, that he wouldn't push Skeptic again.

But now he's just sitting here, withering away. Maybe if he waits long enough, the wickedness within him would die off, and then Skeptic will have a chance to love the real him.

Opportunist wasn't sure how much time had passed- his head was too busy replaying that day and remembering every kiss and embrace they shared up until the fight, questioning if any of it was real or salvageable.

He was useless.

He deceived his partner without even realising it.

Did he even deserve love-

Knock knock!

Opportunist sighed, wishing Hunted wouldn't pester him so much about eating. "Go away, Hunted. I'm busy," he mumbled, turning his back to the door, his fingers fiddling with a familiar feather, a shade of black so dark that it shone almost navy blue in the light, but then he heard another knock.

Opportunist wrapped his wings around himself, hugging himself tightly. "I'm not hungry, Hunted."

Knock!

Opportunist sighed in defeat, forcing himself to sit up, glaring at the door, mustering up all the energy he could for a mask that showed that Opportunist was fine and definitely not heartbroken.

Opportunist wrapped his hand around the doorknob. "Hunted, I promise you, if I'm hungry, I will let you-"

He opened the door, but it wasn't Hunted standing before him.

"-know," was all Opportunist could think to say, as he stared up at the disheveled and grieving face of Skeptic.

Opportunist looked up into those eyes, and he felt his breath being taken away.

Skeptic blinked, before a pained look crossed his face, and he whispered, "Oppy."

"Skeptic," Opportunist whispered back, gripping the doorknob tight.

Opportunist knew how to act around everyone. Everyone except Skeptic, so he had no idea what to do now.

"Can I come in, Oppy?" Skeptic softly asked, and he figured it wouldn't do Opportunist any good to deny him right now, so he silently walked away, letting Skeptic make himself at home.

He heard Skeptic let a sigh of relief out, coming in and closing the door behind him.

Then they stood there, staring at each other with such a heaviness in their eyes, and the memories of a fight that destroyed them.

'You're useless when it comes to thinking about anything other than yourself!'

That was what was between Skeptic and Opportunist now.

Opportunist didn't dare make the first move, not when Skeptic had been so angry at him before. It was safer to let Skeptic lead right now.

Skeptic took a deep breath in, nervously fidgeting with the feathers on his arms, something that Opportunist has never seen him do before.

"Forgive me for not speaking to you sooner, Oppy," Skeptic began. "I wanted to talk to you as soon as I could, but I wanted to give you some space."

Skeptic then lowered his head awkwardly with a cough and added, "It was also hard to get past Hunted. He guarded your door very well."

Despite the anguish in his heart, Opportunist's lips twitched, as if wanting to smile but afraid to.

"But then I heard that nobody's seen you around lately, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I knew I needed to make things right with you."

"Make things right?" Opportunist echoed with a weak chuckle, waving a hand carelessly through the air. "My friend, you've done nothing wrong."

Opportunist tried not to focus on how his voice cracked at the word 'friend', but he couldn't ignore the way it stabbed his heart.

Opportunist smiled at him, but he saw the way Skeptic's eyes darkened at him, and it felt like Skeptic was piercing through his mask and into his very soul. But Skeptic had never known the real him, so how could he make Opportunist feel this vulnerable?

"I have, Oppy," Skeptic firmly said, "and I understand why you're doing what you're doing. I don't blame you, because I'd hate me too after what I said to you."

"Hate?" Opportunist said. "I don't hate you. How can I hate you when you were just telling the truth?"

Skeptic's eyes widened, and then there was a heavy pause that lasted a second too long, that made Opportunist feel how suffocating the tension between them was.

Opportunist couldn't take it, so he smiled until his face hurt. "You were just pointing out the facts, just like you always do! What's to hate about the truth?"

Opportunist forced himself to take a step forward, pushing his shaking to the side. He put a hand on his chest and said in a sincere tone, "If anything, I should be apologising to you. I shouldn't of gotten involved with your work."

"You were worried about me."

"I kept annoying you when you tried to focus."

"You wanted me to relax and I wouldn't listen to you."

"I overstepped and I-"

"No, I overstepped and I pushed you away-"

"You were right!"

"No I wasn't!"

"I am selfish!" Opportunist yelled, then was immediately appalled at his outburst, but he kept going, in the hopes of making Skeptic understand. He clutched at his chest feathers as he exclaimed, "You were right- all I do is think about myself! I tried to insert myself into your work and I made you angry! You were right, just like always. All I do is think about my own personal gain and nobody else's, so I am deeply sorry, Skeptic."

Skeptic took a deep breath in, then took a step forward, holding his hands out to Opportunist.

His voice was calm, but with a hint of fear in it, as he said, "Oppy, what happened was completely my fault. You don't have to make excuses for me. I was the one in the wrong, and you were the one that was only trying to help me, and I ended up lashing out at you, which wasn't fair."

"You weren't selfish for worrying about me," Skeptic continued, his voice becoming more weak and desperate as he spoke. "You cared about me and brought me food and checked up on me. How is that selfish? The only person who was selfish was me, because I cared more about my stupid work than what my amazing partner was doing for me."

Opportunist's heart ached at 'amazing partner' but he forced himself to forget it. It wasn't real. Those feelings weren't real. It was all a ploy to keep Skeptic close to him.

He shook his head, pushing back tears as hard as he could. "No, it's okay, Skeptic. Y-You don't have to lie about making me feel better."

"I'm not lying!" Skeptic pleaded. He took a step closer to Opportunist, who hugged himself and looked away, but couldn't block out the sadness and guilt in Skeptic's voice as he pleaded, "Oppy, please! I'm so sorry for how I treated you, but I won't stand here and let you convince yourself that you were in the wrong! I was the one who treated you like shit!"

Skeptic reached out, and gently took his hands into his own, and Opportunist hated how nice it felt to hold those hands again.

This close, Opportunist could see Skeptic's eyes shining with tears, as he whispered, "Oppy, I'm so sorry for hurting you. You didn't deserve any of it, and you definitely don't deserve to be blaming yourself for my mistakes. You're not selfish, Oppy-"

"Yes, I am," he mumbled in protest, but Skeptic just continued talking, "-and you care so much about me and the flock-"

"No I don't-"

"- and I should've appreciated you more and told you how much I loved you-"

That's when Opportunist snapped.

Loved him?

Opportunist can't love anything else, and nothing can love him.

"No!" he yelled, ripping his hands out of Skeptic's grasp, leaving him floundering, and Opportunist couldn't stop the tears from flowing, sobbing his heart out as he yelled, "You said it yourself! I'm useless! All I care about is myself and my own gain and I made you love me! I manipulated you into falling in love with me just to satisfy my own pathetic loneliness!"

Opportunist broke down then, hugging himself and sobbing loudly. His head was so confused, so torn between wanting to throw himself in Skeptic's arms, and keep far away from him so that Opportunist couldn't hurt him anymore.

But one thing he couldn't do was look away from him, so when he opened his eyes, he was shocked to find the other with tears silently streaming down his face. But the surprising thing was the fact that Skeptic had a steely, determined look in his eyes now, and when they made eye contact, Skeptic's voice was low and firm as he asked, "Is that what you believe? Is that what you think happened between us?"

Opportunist nodded.

Skeptic took a sharp breath in, then said, "Wait here," before marching out of the room.

Opportunist just stood there, having no clue what was happening, other than the fact that his heart yearned for Skeptic's presence again.

Thankfully, it wasn't long that he had to wait, as Skeptic quickly marched back inside, head bowed as he held his- his diary?

Skeptic had kept and written in a diary every day since they became their own people, to help understand his thoughts and the situation around them.

"Skeptic, what are you-" Opportunist tried to speak, but then he gasped as Skeptic fell to his knees, opening his diary up to a certain page and read aloud, "Day forty- Opportunist invited himself to come on a walk with me. Not sure why, but I didn't mind. Talks a lot, but somehow still manages to say absolutely nothing- why is that? Clearly likes talking but isn't saying anything meaningful. Does he just like his own voice? Requires further investigation."

Opportunist had no idea what was going on, and he just stared as Skeptic flipped a few pages over and continued, "Day Fifty- We've all tried to come to terms with this new arrangement and settle within ourselves, but Opportunist is the most interesting case. He keeps complimenting people, offering himself up to be useful, but the others don't trust him. I see the sadness and the fear in his eyes when he thinks no one's looking. Everyone else says he's a good for nothing backstabber, but I don't think so. Will try to get closer to him."

"Skeptic, what is this?" Opportunist quietly asked, but Skeptic's focus was solely on the diary, his voice getting louder and more passionate as he spoke.

"Day Ninety- Opportunist claimed to know a place for peace and quiet, but we quickly got lost in the woods. Opportunist told me that he had everything under control, but this was clearly a lie. He seems to present himself as a very capable person, as if terrified of not being useful."

Skeptic paused to take a deep breath, and his voice wavered as he continued, "But as we kept walking, I kept asking questions, and I realised that Oppy was not who I thought he was at all. He lies because he's scared, but when he's not, he can be-really pleasant to be around. He approaches things differently to me, and I actually quite enjoyed our discussions. I hope to talk to him again soon."

"W-What are you doing?" Opportunist asked. "What are you trying to prove?"

Skeptic wiped a cheek with his palm as he kept reading. "Day one hundred and fifty- I'm not sure what this nervousness in my chest is about, but it only shows up whenever Oppy is around. Oppy is my friend, and the more I learn about him, the more I'm fascinated with him. His ideas, his actions, his smile- there's just something about Oppy that pulls me in and never wants to leave his side. I know he's a scared individual, I know that's why he betrays people. He thinks he's so confident, that he needs to be evil to survive- but I've never met someone with a warmer soul. I-I know what this feeling is now."

Opportunist weeped, shaking his head. "No-No, this isn't true-"

"Day four hundred," Skeptic said, his voice devoid of warmth and passion, sounding empty now. "I've made the greatest mistake of my life."

That was when Opportunist realised what day Skeptic was referring to- the day of the fight.

"I thought if I figured everything out, knew about anything that could hurt him, he'd be safe. But the only thing that ended up hurting him was me."

That was why Skeptic had been working so hard? He had been that worried about something happening to Opportunist?

Looking back on it now, it did seem like Skeptic was looking into all possible threats that could happen to them. At the time, Opportunist thought he was just digging too deep, falling back into bad habits- but Skeptic kept talking about keeping the flock safe, which would include Opportunist as well.

"Why did I say that to him?" Skeptic continued, his bottom lip trembling as he read. "I love him so much. Why would I push him away like that? I should've listened to him, should've spent time with him- it would've been so lovely. But instead I hurt him, and I fear I can't undo the damage I've caused. I only hope I can make sure that he still finds happiness after me."

Finally, Skeptic looked up at Opportunist, and then he broke down crying.

"Oppy, I'm so sorry!" he cried, clutching his diary to his chest, and Opportunist felt himself weep with Skeptic, his whole body shaking with grief.

"Oppy, I'm so sorry for saying that to you! You're not useless! You're not selfish! You're the most caring and kindest person I know! You were always there to try and help me, when leaving me alone would've been so much better for you! You wouldn't stop caring about me!"

Skeptic lowered his head in shame, and then dared to inch closer to Opportunist, and all he wanted was to never let Skeptic go.

"Oppy, my love, you are not a monster. You did not trick me into falling in love with you. I knew who you were from the start, the real you, and that's who I fell in love with."

Opportunist cried, and he saw how much it hurt Skeptic to see him in pain. "How do I know?" Opportunist whispered. "How can I be sure-"

"Take this," Skeptic said, and then thrust his diary towards Opportunist. "You can keep it."

"What? Skeptic, I can't." Skeptic never let anybody touch his diary, and he was just giving it to Opportunist?

"Take it," Skeptic said, pushing the diary into his hands. "All of my thoughts are yours to read. I want you to see how I fell for you, how I still see the real you. If I can't have you as my love again, then I at least want you to not think such horrible things about yourself, not when I deserve them."

Numbly, Opportunist lifted the diary up, unsure of how to feel about all of this, but he found himself cautiously opening the diary to a random page, and he gasped at how many times he caught the words 'Oppy' and 'love' in the same sentences.

Opportunist fell to his knees in front of Skeptic, as the realisation hit him.

Opportunist hadn't deceived Skeptic.

Skeptic knew what he was from the very beginning.

He took a deep breath in, and lifted his head to look at Skeptic, and it felt as if the clouds in his mind were finally starting to evaporate.

He gently put the diary down, and whispered, "I need to do one thing to be sure of something."

"Anything," Skeptic whispered back, so Opportunist gently cupped his face, and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

Immediately, Skeptic sighed into the kiss, but didn't dare touch Opportunist without permission yet, but Opportunist didn't care. All he could focus on was the way his heart was pounding, at how right this felt.

He loved Skeptic. He genuinely fell in love with Skeptic, and Opportunist could never trick his own heart like that.

He pulled back, and looked Skeptic in his regretful, beautiful eyes, and whispered, "I forgive you."

It was as if all the weight escaped from Skeptic then as he sighed in relief, putting his hands on Opportunist's hips. "You do? You really forgive me?"

"I do, love," Opportunist said, tracing his fingers along Skeptic's jawline. "But-But you still hurt me, so you have to earn me back."

"I will," Skeptic said earnest, while nodding his head adorably. "I'll win you back all over again. Everytime."

"I know you will," Opportunist murmured with a smile, then leaned in for another kiss.

They were going to be okay.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Your horus x very stressed reader post is rotating so much in my mind.

So have some scenarious that have popped into my mind.

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

The serfs going through different stages of opinions:

"ugh she is so incompetent. At least she isn't mean"

"oh she is trying. Why was she put in charge without anyone to guide her."

"Oh no, our lady is going to die from stress at this rate."

And more.

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

Horus decides to have a few 'vacation' days with his wife.

Day two she is very sick because after so much stress all the possible bugs her body might have accumulated but was unable to deal with from stress are now being dealt with.

-----------

Horus takes his wife on a date. She is performing the being a good wife but slowly relaxs

Horus ends ups mentioning off hand that she should try a bit harder, while talking about different things.

Lady yn goes back to performing the act of being a good wife, now uncomfortable, unhappy and self-conscious. And wanting to leave.

Either Horus doesn't notice or when he notices he doesn't know how to fix it because he doesn't know what was the thing he said that caused that.

Following this. Lady yn trying to work through exhaustion or the start of being ill and just fucking collapsing on her desk.

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

Horus trying to play with his wife's hair and different possibilities:

a bunch, not a lot, falling off.

Him seeing grey hairs, I'm sure he wouldn't know that stress causes grey hairs.

The hair texture is different.

The scalp feels weird?

All of the above

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

Somehow horus learns what prolonged high amounts of stress can do to a human and panics.

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

Lady yn just missing home so much, even if she still loves her husband she starts to resent the relationship itself, and maybe him too just a tiny bit, and regretting meeting him.

One dat Writing down her thoughts on a diary of sorts, or a sparenotebook, that se may or may not feel bad about.

Horus finds it and starts snooping. Even if it is clearly private.

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

THIS! ALL OF THESE THINGS ARE FREAKING LEGIT!

Geez, I'm so glad you shared these with me, because these things are the ones I wanted to point out!

Horus wife is becoming miserable that even waking up and realizing that no, it is not a dream, you are indeed Lady Lupercal, and yes, you still need to fix all those monetary issues that are, in fact, part of your job.

I'm going to go on all of these because they are GOLD:

1) Yes, like YES YES YES. The serfs know that she was struggling with this position from the beginning, and this can cause some trouble for them. But she's trying, okay? She's trying to be a good lady, acting nice to them, trying to mold and play the act, but everyone can see that she's slowly crumbling.

Also, 100 points if she's hearing all of this and just walks away because she knows that this is just true.

2) It's a cute thing, okay? a small escapade, a small run away in some nice place (Fulgrim suggested it, helping to bond more with her)—enough to forget! But the situation is already so bad that a few days on a beach is not like that can help. Also, as soon as she sets foot back on Terra, the problems will come back, so…

3) On his part, Horus did try to make a nice night for both of them. Again, was this maybe suggested by his sons? Like, "You should need a small date! Clear your evening, spend time with your wife!"

I would go with the option that he did not notice it because, in his mind, he just wanted to help her! He didn't mean anything bad! I mean, of course he knows that she's doing her best; she just needs to try a littleharder!

But he will notice, of course...when she collapsed like a dead body in front of everyone, like her brain just shut down in front of all his sons, while he still held her hand, still trying to process the event.

4) ALL…ALLLLL. Things went wild when he heard her crying in front of her vanity, a bunch of her hair stuck in her brush, and the clear view of her scalp.

She'll start wearing some veil on her head, while he'll try to present the issue with some apothecary, hoping for a solution.

5) The realization, when he realizes that all of these are not some strange illness, is not something that you could have gotten on that vacation; this is all happening because you're struggling with your work. He'll start to ask questions, asking about her personal serf and people around her. Then he remembers that date, and his brain just goes wild.

6) He'll do it. He knew about that diary, the one you kept on yourself, that no one touched.

He took it, and he read it, because he wanted to know how deep the thing was going.

He learned about your true emotion, how you started to develop some resentment about everything, about him, and he doesn't know how to react to it.

He failed you? But how come? He did everything right.

How could it be that he was the cause of your pain?

[doodler16]

I was being serious last time about how masochistic yall are about loona, Val and stolas! Stolas isn't perfect but we all know he hasbeen trying! Stolas has been there for vi from the start of the first episode we see them in. Thy bond in the first episode we see too and we can sense their love. We see them at loo loo land hanging out while vias still mad at Stella for being a pos. The real reason why she was upset was not because of stolas bur because of Stella and we see that play put in the second ep. We see her frustration towards her mother. But deep down hides it for the most part and pretends to be mad at stolas. In the series we see them struggle because of Stella who created a broken home for via and ruined stolass life. We know that via is hurting and she eventually snaps at stolas even though he was the only good thing to come out of her life. He was there when she was a chick. He was there in her teen years and as an egg, he was there as an older teen nearing adulthood around the corner. We know via loves stolas but it's Stella's fault for blinding her into mistakenly hating her father stolas. I liked when loona gave via advice. Loona was never abusive? Exactly when and where? and how? Huh? What? Where is that proof you crirics seem to have? She struggles sure but she doesn't mean it or its just jokes oure and simple. I dont know why sooo many people say that it was a terrible god awful message about stolas trying. Is that not the truth? Loona is the voice of reason and the one who knows about stolas and vias life. 8 dont think she got sidelined personally i think Viv is just cooking up an arc behind the scenes in the series. But anyway she knows stolas, Based on the fact she knows WHO? BLITZ !!! Youd know this if you went back and watched the show. She knows stolas and everything about him through her dad. She is good to her dad and i liked to see her written the way she was because we see her feel for via and stolas. You should know this??? Loona is the brian griffin of the show I don't give af what anyone says and blitzo is the stewie of the show. Honestly go ahead and prove me wrong on that particular part of family guy. Bet you dont have much of an argument. It makes sense in their dynamic to be written like the griffins and strongly bonded relationship arcs. I like that Vivziepop wrote these arcs because of the fact she wanted to tell a complicated and complex story and we all love that about her. She is a creative genius who took inspiration from south park, family guy and bojack horsemen and all of this powerful artist writing and talent went into the show with its beautiful directing. She is my idol and had been from the start. It broke my heart to see that moment and heartwrenching scene where she let go and went straight to her abusers Andre and Stella. And she walks away while stolas breaks down and cries for her in the most meaningful way possible. You'd know all this information if you juat gave Vivziepop a chance and watched both seasons all over again. But I guess thats too much for you and that laziness ain't going to get you anywhere on life. Honestly you should watch it again. Skip hazbin hotel until I get to Val but man is that a Lot of information you just either forgot or just probably missed out on. Valentino is a pimp and he's meant to be a lovable adorable kind of pimp that's funny asf. His voice direction is fantastic. He knows how to deliver lines like a true villain of the darkness. He's masculine but more feminine like a gay man of the night. While he does hit Valentino ita angel who went to Val. Or Val found him. I can't say for certain you'd just have to watch the show God Damnit! We see in the addict video that he is sinister and should be taken seriously as a threat in hell as an overlord. He's supposed to be ruthless in who he is. But he gets cut slack because he can be sympathetic or nice to people around him. I mean look at his relationship with the vees. He gets along with them just fine and is one of the main vessels to the vees entire existence.

Rage-bait Anon, is that you? 😫 You actually made a response. Jokes aside, I’m glad you said more stuff because this I can work with. I’m going to divide your arguments into character sections to make things easier.

Stolas:

- Octavia wasn’t mad at Stella, she was mad at Stolas. In “Loo loo Land” Stolas is the one consistently getting called out by Octavia for ruining their home life. They had an entire conversation about it near the end of the episode.

- “I dont know why sooo many people say that it was a terrible god awful message about Stolas trying.” Because he doesn’t actually put in the effort to be there for Octavia or change. He practically forgets her. In “Seeing Stars” Stolas was more busy with his side adventure with Blitzø and flirting with him. It’s also funny because Stolas could’ve called Octavia or used said tracker on his phone to look for Octavia.

- If he was actually trying to be a better father figure, Stolas would actually acknowledge that he is the problem and make sweeping changes to avoid the same problem from happening.

- “Loo Loo Land” and “Seeing Stars” are practically the same episodes regarding Stolas/Octavia’s conflict with a different code of paint. How many times will Stolas learn not to repeat his mistakes and actually be there for his daughter? How many chances do we the audience and Octavia have to give Stolas for him to learn anything.

- Octavia was right for cutting him off. Actions have consequences and Stolas needs to realize that. Along with making sweeping changes regarding his behavior in general. Stella and Andrealphus in their own ways suck as guardians because of how neglectful they are. And, I hope she ditches them both and moves out.

Loona

- Loona was abusive in “Seeing Stars.” In 2:35, Loona throws knifes and daggers at Blitzø. Blitzø is consistently running away from Loona as she is chasing him with inanimate objects like the water cooler and successfully threw it at his face (which obviously hurts him as he tears up).

- In 2:44, Loona tackles Blitzø, hitting him repeatedly with a painting. He successfully escapes and hides behind the couch where Millie and Moxxie are sitting, this is abuse. At the end of the episode, she kicks Blitzø in the balls for no reason even after she makes a speech about how much dads are trying their best.

- Imagine if Blitzø was doing this to his own daughter. Would you still think this is a joke? “Loona is the voice of reason and the one who knows about stolas and vias life.” Loona doesn’t know the full story about Stolas and Octavia’s life otherwise she would’ve said more. Loona doesn’t know that Stolas was in an arranged marriage, she doesn’t know that Stella is physically abusive towards Stolas, etc.

- All Loona knows is that Stolas and his grimoire was their only source to the human world in season 1. In season 2, Loona literally referred to Stolas as a “meal ticket.” 🤣 You would think if Loona knew more about Stolas she wouldn’t refer to him as a “meal ticket.”

- “I think Viv is cooking up an arc behind the scenes.” I hope so, we are going to be on season 3 and we haven’t gotten much Loona content. Once season 3 and 4 of Helluva Boss is done I’ll gladly rewatch the show and take notes.

Valentino:

- If Valentino was a normal, average goofy run of the mill villain where the audience is not supposed to take seriously then I would get it. But the problem is that Valentino is a rapist personified. Him being charming and charismatic is one thing but being goofy and quirky is very tone deaf on Vivziepop and the writers’ side.

- Just because Angel Dust allegedly went to him doesn’t give Valentino the right to physically abuse or rape him. At the moment we don’t know how Valentino and Angel Dust even met in the first place, we only know that Angel Dust is a slave to Valentino. Either way, when their origin story comes out we can argue about that another day.

- I do get the appeal with Valentino’s voice. Joel Perez is a talented actor and singer, he does the best work he can with the goofy lines given to him. Luckily, I’m not picky so I immediately got used to his voice. I personally prefer Paranoid DJ as Valentino but at the end of the day it’s a personal preference/opinion.

- “But he gets cut slack because he can be sympathetic or nice to people around him.” 😭 There is so much wrong with this sentence. A rapist should never be portrayed as sympathetic or misunderstood. Also Valentino 99% of the time isn’t nice. He throws a tantrum mostly everywhere he goes including to Vox in episode 2.

Vivziepop:

“She is a creative genius who took inspiration from south park, family guy and bojack horsemen and all of this powerful artist writing and talent went into the show with its beautiful directing. She is my idol and had been from the start.” Vivziepop is absolutely a creative person. Oh, she’s your idol. Neat!

Bonus:

I assume this is you? I could be mistaken, if not I apologize in advance. Otherwise, here’s my response do whatever you want with it Anon.

[notyourmamasdeerbat]

WIP Wednesday🤦/ Last Line Tag Game

Heyyyyyyyyyy. So I got good news and bad news. Good news is- BOY DO I HAVE CONTENT! Bad news is... uh. It's all new WIPs. I KNOW I KNOW I'M SO SORRY I SWEAR I'M NOT ABANDONING MY PROJECTS! I have so much love in my heart for them just a very lost brain. Taking a brief break to write nondescript other stuff and circling back to long form fics very soon. So much for locking in this week.

Thank you graciously to @officialnostradamus @fenrelmercar and @redheadsramblings for the tags!

Ok, last line written: “It’s nothing personal,” she insisted, before darting forward in a vicious lunge. Not knowing what else to do, Coadi clashed the blade aside with the shriek of steel on steel. They took a staggering step to one side, presenting their profile as a smaller target. 

Eh? Eh?! :D HIGH STRESS HIGH STAKES SCENARIO. The turning point, the end of Coadi's time in Orlais! This, if I ever complete it and sort out my timeline for REAL, Aldwir's Lament: Broken Display possibly an installation in a brief prequel series of Coadi Aldwir's formative adventures, before they became Rook.

****

WIP STUFF:

I'm going to put a few lines I'm particularly proud of from Broken Display right here don't mind me:

Coadi wrung their hands, regarding the crystal halla figurine in its glass case as the torches were beginning to burn down to embers. The white sleeves of their linen shirt nearly glowed in the half light, as if they were a ghost lingering on the fringes of the ancient relics, attached by some curse of time and fate. 

It was a grim thought. Few of these artifacts had been retrieved by good will alone. 

“Er, yes. I mean, no. I’d like to stay a few more minutes?” 

“...You have proven yourself responsible.” Adelard shrugged and flicked his wrist to produce a wrought iron key on a long loop of silk ribbon. “Shut the doors before you leave.” 

“Right. Thank you, Adelard.” 

“Hmm.” Icily, the man turned to make his exit. Coadi listened to his footfalls echo on the marble floor out of sight, then the creak of the museum’s double doors banging shut. Silence engulfed them. 

****

AND BELOW IS EVEN MORE MODERN AU NIGHTCLUB CANTORI DIAMOND ROOKANIS NONSENSE I'M SO SORRY I CAN'T SHUT UP ABOUT THIS

CW: author's clumsy description of sensory overload/panic, Rook being a sweetheart, dubious sharing of prescription substance

those of you who might enjoy music to go along with your club era meet cute:

-

“Oh fu– Maker! Hello!” Rook laughed, blue gaze sparkling in the half light as they gently steadied them both, releasing Lucanis hurriedly. “I’m sorry, didn’t see you there!” They shouted over the music. 

Lucanis shied away from the swaying skirt and mesh sleeves of a couple racing to join the crush of a rapidly forming pit. He cleared his throat, scowling, brow furrowed as he felt a headache roaring to life in the back of his skull. “It’s nothing,” he shouted back, voice hoarse. 

“Oh, your vest,” Rook lamented loudly, frowning at the smattering of dark splotches. “It’s very nice!” 

“It was,” Lucanis replied, trying valiantly to resist the push and pull of the crowd that seemed to be drawing them closer together. The crush of body heat made his skin crawl. “But it’s nothing. These things happen.” 

Rook barely heard him, but held up a finger with a frown, reaching into one of the many many pockets of their pants and retrieving a small pack of crinoline covered wet wipes. “Here!” 

Another surge of tidal movement pushed them within inches of one another, swallowed into the fold on the edges of the pit, bass pounding. Wincing against the noise, but endeavoring to be polite, Lucanis took the wet wipe and swiped half heartedly at the stains on his chest. “Thank you,” he shouted. 

“What?” Rook, laughing, squinted against the noise. “Oh! No problem!” 

Staggering as someone rammed an elbow into their back, Rook held up a hand between them to try and keep a respectful distance, grinning dizzily. “I love this song!” 

“You do?” Lucanis asked, incredulous as he tried to take a step back and his spine hit someone else's. He jerked, darkness threatening to cloud the edges of his vision in mocking spots. His flesh was on fire. 

Rook frowned. “Hey! You alright?” 

Lucanis nodded, throat clenching to cut off his breathing, stale air rank with sweat and iron and alcohol choking his lungs as he tried to push back towards the bar through the sea of bodies. 

Rook’s eyebrows shot into their hair as the man in front of them swayed. Moving quickly, they shouldered into his path and forged through the bodies at an angle, one hand closing tight around Lucanis’ wrist. He stiffened in their grasp, but Rook only pulled him along, shouting over the thunderous melody and the vibrations in the floor and the blinding, disorienting strobe- using their body as a shield. “Scuse me! Sorry! Coming through- HEY WATCH IT-” They dodged a spilt drink and  shouldered between two dancing qunari and squeezed through the space they created, dragging Lucanis quickly behind as the roar of the blood in his ears drowned out all other noise and the spots in his vision multiplied. 

The air grew clearer, as if he were coming up from being underwater, when they burst out into the space around the bar and it's steady, violet glow. Rook pulled Lucanis towards the maintenance stairway with its glowing exit sign and set him with his back to the wooden steps to the catwalk above and the orange lights beyond. 

“Here, sit down.” 

A little lost and still dizzy, heart hammering against his aching ribs, Lucanis sank down onto the step. Rook fished something from their linen pants pocket once more– an ice cold “hot water” bottle, covered in little stickers. A few nugs, a hamster, several souvenir images from cities across the continent. One big teal and red vignette of the statue of Our Lady of Victory read Minrathous in bold scarlet letters. 

They offered it to Lucanis, who accepted it with furrowed brows, the rubber skin slick with condensation. 

“Drink some water,” Rook instructed, taking a step back to lean against the open doorway and check on the chaos beyond, craning their neck as if to look for someone– or give the sweat drenched party goer some privacy. Embarrassed, face hot from exertion and shame, Lucanis took slow sips. Just water, as promised. 

He waited for his breathing to slow, resting his hands on the grounding temperature of the floppy waterskin. Hanging his head, he shut his eyes. 

Rook waited a few heartbeats before speaking in a low voice. “Can I get you anything?” 

“No,” he rasped, stomach twisting. He swallowed thickly. “Thank you.” 

“It's a lot out there. Sorry you got swept up, it's easy to do. Pit's not for everybody.” 

“It was accidental,” he agreed in a low voice. He took another long swig from the waterbottle. 

“I've got ibuprofen, aspirin… something stronger?” 

Lucanis peered at them over the water bottle skeptically. 

Rook grinned. “Messing with you. It's an inhaler, albuterol.”

“Ah.” 

Rook fished it from their thigh pocket and held the little red mechanism out to him, careful to keep their distance. Lucanis grimaced and shook his head. 

“I'm fine.” 

“Yeah, probably don't want to swap spit. Just let me know if you're having any more trouble catching your breath. It looked like you were having a panic attack.” 

Lucanis winced. “...You seem to come prepared.” 

“Hey, takes one to know one. My mother's EMS, too.” 

“Oh.” 

“Speaking of, how you feeling?” 

“Better. Thank you. That was unnecessary, and I apologize. But thank you.” 

“Don't be sorry! Do you mind?” They gestured to the empty space on the stair beside him. Lucanis frowned but scooted sideways to give them room. Rook sank down beside him on the step as he passed back their water bottle. Rook tucked it into their pocket and heaved a sigh. “I don't usually frequent this place. My friends prefer a livelier scene.” 

“Yes?” Lucanis studied his savior sidelong, golden glitter sweating down their temples and flecks of it catching in their eyelashes. A bright blue lipstick smear lingered at the junction of their jaw, trailing down into their yellow satin shirt collar where sweat glistened down the deep v of their chest. More glitter shone down their toned arms, the left swirled by dark ink designs all the way down to their wrist and disappearing up their neck. “You look the part.” 

“I enjoy a game of dress up.” Rook grinned. “And loud music. And a few drinks.” 

“Hmm. I find clubs… good for the whiskey. Not much else. For me.” 

“Then what brought you to the Diamond tonight?” 

“I was dragged along by my cousin. It's a family affair. I've just returned from… Well. It's a long story.” 

“I understand,” Rook said, nodding. “Where is your cousin now?” 

“Likely charming some beautiful creature out of their pants.” 

Rook snorted. “Ah. Well I'm happy to keep to the buddy system as long as you think you need. Not that you look like you need it–” Rook winced. “Just. I wouldn't want to be alone while my head is pounding and it's all strangers drunk off their tits out there.” 

Lucanis gave a small sideways smile, something bitter in the expression. “That's very kind. I'm sure I'll recover in a few moments.” 

Thank you for indulging the word vomit and any delay on current WIPs. My muse, she is fickle. But if there is one thing I am consistent with it's playing with dolls and yapping about my beloved OC.

“Not a problem. Just let me know.” Rook settled their temple against the wooden panel of the wall and fell comfortably silent. Lucanis felt his heartbeat beginning to slow its galloping, the jack knife burn in his chest unwinding. 

****

Gentle tagging my beloveds: Drink water, take your meds, and fear no darkness! 🥂

 @draco-illius-noctis @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @hedwigoprah @sunny374940 @nevarrantorte @caughtnyact @seaglassmelody @strugglinggranola @jenn2d2 @palenecromaniac @thesummerstorms @andthekitchensinkao3 @strugglinggranola @woundedsoul12

[namelessgoose]

Travel related headcanons for the papas! ✈️🌴

I started these when I had down time traveling a while back and I just remembered I did that so I finished it up and yeah!! This is my first time writing out something like this to post so … be nice 😅

Nihil:

- He throws a bunch of random things in his bag with no sense of organization and then needs someone else to fix it for him and will complain about how they organize it because “he had a system” (there was no system)

- He takes his sweet time in the TSA line, no sense of urgency at all. If his bag gets stopped he immediately starts arguing.

- On the actual trip, he cannot stick to a schedule, he’s the least punctual person in existence.

Primo:

- He’s very preplanned and organized without having to put in much effort. He’s able to pack right before he leaves and packs pretty minimally.

- His bags get through TSA easily, that’s not to say that he doesn’t have anything illegal on him. He has his ways. Don’t worry about it!

- HATES airports. Too many loud people who can’t figure out how to do simple things.

- He doesn’t do anything on the plane. He just sits there. What’s he thinking about? Who knows.

- His trips are generally for business only, he doesn’t enjoy traveling very much. Though, he will stop to see the nature of the area if there’s some.

Secondo:

- Secondo is absolutely an overpacker, but denies it completely. But not in the “i’m bringing 10 pairs of underwear just in case I shit my pants every single day” way, no. Like he’s bringing 5 different kinds of cologne and way too many outfit choices (thinking about that one picture where he’s in that very eccentrically decorated room that was scrapped from Papaganda i believe) And he is able to give serious rationale for everything he brings.

- Hates airports just as much as Primo. His bag gets stopped at TSA every time without fail for absolutely no reason.

- I don’t think he travels much outside of clergy duties BUT if he has to go on a trip for business, he absolutely makes the most out of it… he might get a bit distracted and not fulfill some of the business duties.

Terzo:

- Terzo is packed and planned WELL in advance. He knows exactly what he’s wearing everyday and has alternate outfits depending on the weather. He has all of his essentials and his bag is well organized. He always makes reservations with timed out schedules, but isn’t afraid to deviate from the plan to do what he feels like at that moment.

- Though, he really doesn’t like planes. Not that he’s scared of them, the elevation just gives him a headache. He brings a book to read to try to distract himself, but it usually doesn’t work very well.

- Even if a trip is technically for business, he’s able to make the absolute best of it. I think he’d like to travel for pleasure as well. Honestly, I think he would be the best to travel with.

Copia:

- Unlike Secondo, he is definitely the “packing 10 pairs of underwear just in case i shit my pants every single day” type of packer. Overpacks because you never know what could happen. And even with his overpacking, he definitely forgets something essential and has to get it overpriced at the airport. He also procrastinates packing until the last minute which doesn��t help either.

- Doesn’t like sleeping at hotels. Hell, he has trouble sleeping at home. The cold and unfamiliar hotel room is definitely not going to help him out in that regard.

- He only travels for clergy business, so it’s all planned for him. He tries so hard to adhere to what he’s supposed to do that he stresses himself out. He’s able to get it all done though, despite the chaos.

- His ghouls make sure he lets himself relax and actually enjoy the trip at some point when there’s time so he’s not just overworking himself.

Perpetua:

ngl i don’t have a great grasp on his character yet, i can’t wait until i see him at my ritual!!!

- He seems like the type who comes off very planned and put together, but is totally just going off vibes.

- I have a feeling that those claws aren’t getting though TSA easily

Wow you made it to the end! I’m not really anticipating anyone really reading this lmao BUT if anyone wants any of these ideas developed some more or if you have any of your own travel related hcs for them, feel free to drop something in my ask box :3

[occasional-yan-stuff]

Helloooooooo! I just read your Yandere! Otome Love Interest fic and I just want to make a request (if you do take requests hehe but it’s okay if you don't) of a what-if scenario.

What if the other Otome Love Interests reader has been with (the other four aside from Caspian) would unlock their memories too? From the first timeline where Isekai’d reader married Caspian to the most recent one?

Thank you! I love this fic of yours btw 💓💓💓

This is gonna be my very first part 2! I hope you like it!

Pt. 1 here

Yandere!Meta!Otome Love interest X GN!Isekai!reader X Yandere!Recently Awakened!Otome Love interest

details: reincarnation, love triangle, reader resents yandere, this one is pretty sad (idk why I'm writing so much sad stuff lately), reader is scared of yandere, yandere spoils reader,

warnings: Isolation, captivity, kidnapping, implied physical abuse, controlling partner, restriction of access to information, murder, implied blood, knives

It was two weeks into your third life with him. Your third time stuck in this house. It was almost starting to feel normal. The second time you reincarnated after finishing all the routes, you attempted to sneak out your window and continue as normal. Alas, he was right at the end of the ally way, and he caught up to you quick before dragging you back "home". The third time, when you woke up in your current life, you simply tried to avoid the plot all together and be a normal person in this world. This only lasted a few days before Caspian tracked you down and hauled you back to the mansion.

No matter what you did, he was inevitable. That was clear from all the escape attempts you had made in your first life in his home. Even though you had faced two deaths afterward, you could still faintly see some of the scars. Caspian valued promises and hated to see you break them. This reason did not feel like justification and you were sure that you'd never forgive him. You would also never try leaving again.

It was a morning just like any other morning and a breakfast just like any other breakfast. It was a spread so immaculate that you could almost forget that you were being forced to eat it.

"you look gorgeous, beloved," Caspian purred, admiring your body in the outfit he'd picked out for you. He always picked out your outfit. He picked out many things for you, what you ate, what you wore, where you slept, but there were plenty of other little freedoms you had as well. Nice things to distract yourself from the prison your life had become.

You could choose what hobbies you picked up and while he was initially dismissive, Caspian would always get you anything you wanted to support your hobbies. You knew him well enough to know that he would always come around and be just as invested in your hobbies as you were. That was a big part of his arc in the game after all.... The game. You missed how he was in the game. His yandere ending was fun and very hot but that was a bad end. You were stuck in a bad end.

Just like in your life in the real world, you turned to escapism. You had access to any book in Caspian's library, and if you saw a new one you wanted in the paper, he would buy you a copy of that too. Unfortunately though, recently, he had stopped giving you the paper to read. It was strange. This particular morning, you decided to ask about it.

"excuse me, dear," you shifted slightly as you called him that word. It wasn't something you enjoyed doing anymore but he got in a way when you weren't as affectionate with him as he was with you, "why haven't I been getting the paper recently?"

His purple eyes became sharp and his expression was cold. He swallowed a piece of steak before putting his knife down and speaking, "I don't need the outside world poisoning my beloved's mind."

You were about to say something in response but were interrupted by a knock at the door. This was strange. This hadn't happened in the past two loops. There were only ever 3 knocks at the door, and they always came much later. You began to rise to your feet, both out of curiosity and impulse, but Caspian placed a hand on your thigh, signalling you to stay put.

He got out of his seat and left the dining room. You worried what he would do if you left your own chair without permission, so all you could do was stay put and listen. The great door of the mansion creaked open and a familiar voice drifted into your ears.

"Where are they, Cass?" Leo's voice was full of anger, frustration, and perhaps just a bit of worry.

Leo was easily the most popular boy in the game. He had the most merch, the most events, the most voice lines, and he was the guy who the heroin ended up with in the anime adaptation. The first boy most players went for, yourself included, was usually Leo, and it wasn't hard to see why.

He was kind, and chivalrous, suave, and protective, the typical shojou prince. An unbeatable formula, really. Everyone wanted to be swept off their feet at least once in their life.

"Now now, is that any way of greeting your brother?" Caspian was attempting to diffuse the situation, but you could feel the tension in the air. It wasn't working.

"Where are they?" Leo said again, becoming even angrier.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's been wrong for the past two loops," the words came out through gritted teeth, "they haven't been at the castle and neither have you. They were supposed to show up two weeks ago."

The air was still for a moment. It was as if the world had gone completely silent. Even the background music that constantly followed you had cut out.

"what?" The word was so quiet you could barely hear it

"You broke everything, Caspian!" Leo raised his voice, seemingly to compensate for how quiet the other was being, "including me!"

"brother, please, I-"

"do you ever notice how de don't talk like normal siblings?" a pair of footsteps could be heard, one stepping forward, the other moving back.

"We talk like how siblings talk in books, Cass, have you ever noticed that?" the question came with an agitated sharpness.

"I suppose I never put any thought into it," he chuckled nervously. You could now see the two of them through the door way of the dining room.

"On some level, I think I understand why you did it," Leo was now backing Caspian into the dining room, "I don't like remembering the person I love marrying my best friends either." His smile looked broken. A crackling chuckle exited his lips.

"But youuu got to develop those memories, Caspian, didn't you?" His eye was twitching. He now had his brother backed up against the dining room table. His hand reached for the steak knife and your eyes snapped shut. "HOW DO YOU THINK IT FEELS TO GET THEM ALL AT ONCE?!"

There was a blood curdling scream followed by panting and a few moments of silence. You felt a wet hand touch your cheek as the smell of metal hit your nose. You slowly, hesitantly, opened your eyes. There was Leo, smiling down at you.

"Come on, lets do this the right way."

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello, can I get part 4 jojo gang with a reader who's like Noelle from Genshin. Someone who is extremely strong, stubborn, reliable, and willing to endanger her life in order to help someone in need. With the reader's goal of becoming a Police officer

hi, sure! hope u enjoy and thank you for requesting :3

Josuke Higashikata

Totally in awe of you.

He first sees you one-arm lifting a scooter off a crushed puppy like “Oh thank goodness, it only got bruised!” while YOU’RE bleeding out and smiling like it’s no big deal.

“UHHH GIRL- ???”

He constantly has to heal you because you have zero self-preservation. “Y/N, you can’t protect the town if you’re dead!”

Thinks your goal to become a cop is noble but quietly worries about how reckless you are.

“You’d be the best officer ever… just please don’t run into burning buildings anymore.”

Lowkey gets flustered when you carry him bridal-style after a fight. 

Okuyasu

HE’S OBSESSED WITH YOU.

You’re strong, loyal, AND nice?? His dream girl?? His soulmate???

“You wanna be a cop?! That’s SICK!! I’d visit your station every day!!”

Tries to keep up with your workouts and fails miserably. You carried a vending machine once. He passed out after five pushups.

You once took a hit for him and he cried right there on the sidewalk.

Gets very emotional when you talk about wanting to protect Morioh. “Damn. You’re like a superhero. Like All Might, but, like… cuter.”

Koichi

Extremely impressed and extremely concerned.

The first time he sees you carry an injured jogger 3 miles back to town without breaking a sweat, he’s like 🧍‍♂️😳

“Y/N… you’re amazing. But maybe… slow down? Just a bit?”

Tries to talk you out of putting yourself in danger every time but you just smile and thank him for worrying.

“You’re way too good for this world,” he says, genuinely.

Thinks your dream is incredible and will support you 100%- makes you little flashcards for the written exam 

Rohan

Annoyed. Until he’s not.

“Ugh, you again. Charging into danger like some self-sacrificing anime cliché- ”

But the second you block a falling beam from crushing him and say “Are you alright, Mr. Kishibe?” he just stares at you.

He writes a character based on you. It becomes insanely popular.

Pretends he’s indifferent, but always keeps an eye on you during fights.

"If you die doing something stupid and noble, I will be very upset. That’s not permission. That’s a threat.”

Jotaro Kujo

Knows your type immediately.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” he mutters. “...She’s also going to save this whole town.”

Watches from the shadows like a worried dad. Pretends not to care.

You: getting thrown into a wall

Jotaro: “Yare yare daze- ORAORAORAORA- ”

He actually admires your dream to be a cop, even if he thinks you’re too soft-hearted.

Trains with you sometimes. Quietly impressed when you flip him over once.

“Good. Just don’t die. You’re more useful alive.”

Yukako

Girl you are her IDOL.

“...She’s like some sort of noble girl knight…”

After she’s sure you’re not into Koichi, she latches onto you like glue. Will support your dream.

“If anyone stands in your way, I’ll hold them hostage while you do your paperwork.”

She gets scary protective though. If you’re bleeding and still trying to run into battle, she hair-tackles you to the ground.

“You WILL rest. You are NOT disposable. Understand?!”

Reimi

She’s so moved by your kindness she tears up.

“You’re exactly the kind of person I wish had been there for me...”

You visit her at her alley often, sometimes cleaning up trash or watering the flowers nearby.

Reimi thinks you’re the kind of soul that changes fate.

She 100% believes you’ll become a police officer and help protect Morioh from things no one else sees.

You’re her favorite visitor. You always listen to her stories, and she tells you, “Don’t ever stop being you.”

Tonio

IMMEDIATELY TRIES TO FIX YOUR DIET.

“Signorina! You cannot survive on instant noodles and bruised knuckles alone!!”

Every time you come into his restaurant he’s like “You have dark circles. I am making you soup. SIT.”

He loves your kind spirit and even customizes your dishes to help you recover faster.

You once collapsed from dehydration after lifting a car off a kitten and he NEVER lets you forget it.

“You must treat yourself with the same love you give others!”

Shigechi

Thinks you’re SO cool.

“Whoa!! You’re like a muscley version of Koichi!!”

Tries to show off by helping you help people- like “I can use Harvest to get this lady’s purse back!!”

He’s your biggest fan tbh. Follows you around and asks questions constantly.

“Why do you wanna be a cop? Are the hats comfy?? Do you get snacks?”

You gently explain your sense of justice and he just goes 🥺

Starts calling you “Detective Y/N” and tries to draw you little fake badges.