#{ i drew this a few days ago but i wanted to post the fic first for dennys related context

[abstractreign]

a dream? a hallucination? or purrhaps, even a vision?

{ please no reb/ogging if not @dandybarista or @catncore

[bella-rose29]

Breathe

Elrond x gn!reader (Rings of Power)

not me coming out of my cave to post an Elrond fic then leave again 👀

also not me not writing anything for over a month (probably, I haven't counted) and then coming out with a near 5k fic oops

the original title for this was 'is he dead or not??? who knows' but I think this one is good too

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: I think I killed someone writing this/made them need a lobotomy so consider that a warning to anyone who's gonna read (sorry), mentions of death, war, wounds, a child crying, the photo I'm gonna use is a warning in and of itself, I think that's it?

I feel I should add that this fic is actually happy (eventually) 😂 I reread the warnings and thought 'oh oops'

tagging @oblivious-idiot and @uku-lelevillain but if anyone else wants to be tagged in future Elrond works then let me know!

You could not breathe. 

It would eat you alive, all this waiting, chewing on your insides until it worked its way outward and left you but a shell of the person you used to be, and you wouldn’t have any way of stopping it. Your lungs felt tight as you cradled the head of a sobbing child, his mother dead after birthing him and his father out in the fray with the rest of the soldiers of Middle-Earth. He was young, had barely seen his homeland, let alone the world, and he had never seen war before. You were not so lucky as he - war had been your upbringing. You could fight as well as any other of the elven soldiers, but somebody was needed to look after those who could not, and so you had volunteered along with a small band of others: retired fighters and those looking to start out and join the ranks but were not quite good enough yet. You had trained them over the last few days that you had all spent in the safe hold, taking them through the basics of how to grip a sword and the best way to gut an Orc should they break through and make it to the doors of the underground cavern serving as your shelter. 

The child in your lap had stopped sobbing, his cries turned to sniffles, and you carefully lifted his body to nestle into your side. He was too young for war, you thought again, taking in the small points of his ears and the lack of angles on his face. You attempted a smile, hoping it would comfort him a little as you pushed a strand of his hair behind an ear, and whispered to him. “All will be well. They will return to us victorious, and we shall have no need of too many more tears.”

“But how do you know?” Children were inquisitive, which most of the time you adored, but when you are attempting to raise the spirits of a boy who does not know if he will ever see his father again, the questions become rather irritating. 

“Because I have seen many things, and because our armies are strong. They will defeat the darkness and bring light to our lands once more.” It was the best you could do when you did not truly know the answer. You had learned the art of rhetoric years ago, when Elrond Peredhel had first come to Lindon and had quickly discovered that for the elves to see past his half-elven status he would need to become invaluable, or risk being an outcast in the race he had chosen to be counted among. You had been the first to greet him, intrigued by this visitor from the Havens of Sirion when you had been born in Lindon and raised there, and he had been grateful for your tour and kindness. He had spent many an hour sat with you, commenting on his meetings and the politics of Lindon, and how he carefully navigated clashing personalities and difficult conversations, and so you had learned. 

You used it now, that knowledge that Elrond had provided in all those hours, to comfort this child. He had since taken to playing with a stick on the floor next to him, leaning further away from your side to entertain himself as he drew patterns in the dirt, and it gave your lungs the much needed space to breathe a little more. 

It had been hours and hours since the army had left, heading out onto the battlefield to meet Sauron’s forces, and you were getting impatient. Elrond had gone with them, determined to provide what help he could no matter your protests to him entering the fray. You had trained him up, knowing that he could hold his own but wanting to be sure that he would be alright, and when you had suggested that you go with him while tightening the straps of his armour he had placed his hands over yours (his hands were too soft - far too soft for someone about to go into battle), gently coaxing them from where they had fretted with the leather and returning them to your side with a sad smile. “You must stay here, melethel, and protect those who cannot fight.” The term of endearment never failed to heat your cheeks, or send a warmth up your neck and through your chest. “For my peace of mind, please stay here.” He had let go of your hands at that point, moving them up to rest on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over his face, and before you could think you were pushing it back into place, wondering if you had imagined him leaning into your touch that lingered a moment too long for two elves who were only friends and nothing more, his eyes fluttering closed for the barest fraction of a second before he was looking at you again, or if it had truly happened. What you were certain was real was the soft kiss he placed on your forehead, lips brushing the skin with such care and tenderness while his hands on your arms squeezed like you would disappear that it made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed. Elrond would not see you cry, not now, not when there was a chance it could be the last-

No. You would not think that way. He would come back alive, and if he was hurt then you would stay by his side until he was healed, and then you would continue your lives as you had before - content and in friendship. 

It wasn’t how you wanted things to be with Elrond, which was why you could not breathe. What if he was one of the fallen, and you never saw him smile again, or gaze in wonder at the golden leaves of Lindon or cast a wry glance your way in a council session when somebody said something he thought was silly and knew you would be thinking it too, your eyes already seeking him out? What if you never heard him sing again, or write poems about trivial matters that seemed so important to him? What if you never got to challenge him to a duel again, laughing when your swords clashed and rang out in the clearing you always fled to, and calling him a cheat for tickling you after you pinned him to the floor?

And what if you never told him how you truly felt? That from the moment he had seen you try not to show your tears after climbing too high in a tree and falling, grazing your knee and cutting your calf, and had rushed to your aid because that was what Elrond did, you had loved him. He had been so calm, so gentle that night, the lights of others long gone out as they dwelt in near darkness while your lanterns stayed lit as you gritted your teeth and washed the cut of dirt and bark. You had barely heard him come in, his knock as quiet as your tears, but when his hands wrapped around your own and took the cloth from you, dipping it again in the bowl of water to your side, you barely startled. He had not been in Lindon long and yet already you knew him and his movements as though they were your own, and you trusted him enough to see you so vulnerable, and from the way he had looked at you that night he knew it. Your love for him was strong and true and the greatest thing you had ever felt, and for years you had passed it off as a friendship so powerful that the bond between you was unbreakable. You had friendships like that with others, so it would not have been out of the ordinary to have one more person whom you would love unconditionally until your light died, but when he had been kneeling by your side and cleaning the gash on your calf with a tenderness you had only read about, you had known it was different. 

The child beside you now dropped his stick, the movement bringing you out of your thoughts as he scrambled instead to his feet and started to push through the gathered people to make for the doorway. 

The doorway which was now opening, a messenger stepping through. You stood up, air catching in your throat and making you nearly choke on spit as you struggled to breathe again. Your hand flew to your opposite wrist, under the fabric of your sleeve and touching the chain that rested around the base of your hand - a gift from Elrond in the early hours of the morning before he had left for battle and after he had kissed you on the forehead. “To remember me by,” he had said, a sadness settling over his features that you hated. He unclasped it, gesturing for you to hold out your wrist, and when you complied he had linked the chains so carefully, fingers brushing the underside of your forearm so lightly it sent chills darting over your skin like minnows in a stream. His hold had lingered, and your breath had been held while time seemed to stretch on more than usual for your kind. 

Elrond had that effect on you, it would appear. Making you breathless was a skill of his you weren’t sure he knew he possessed, and at this current moment you wished it was a skill he had never mastered. Your throat felt tight while the messenger caught his breath, tired from sprinting from the battlefield. The fight was over for now, the question was simply who had won.

“Sauron’s forces have been pushed back, and the majority slaughtered. We have won this battle!” the elf cried, and the first wave of relief washed over you and the crowd. The second would come when you knew who was alive out of those that had been sent away that morning, and who would not return this night. 

The thundering of footsteps could just be heard over the cheers of the people gathered in the safe hold, and the first of the elven soldiers appeared in the chamber, tiredness being replaced by joy at seeing their loved ones again and embracing them with a fierceness that even Sauron could not comprehend. There were too many similar soldiers, their armour all the same and their faces all dirtied, and it was a long few minutes before you caught sight of the elf you were searching for. You were sure your face was blank and cold, and your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to see past the hordes in front of you, but the moment a head of unruly curled hair glinted under the torchlight, clearly moving from soldier to soldier and asking if they were alright, you knew it was Elrond. He seemed to sense your gaze on him, turning his head to look over his shoulder and seek you out, finding you within seconds. He is alive. Elrond is alive. It was a mantra, playing over and over in your head as your feet numbly moved you forward while he did the same, pushing through people to reach you, and before you could truly register it you were in his arms, the coldness of your previous gaze melting and turning into warmth as you looked at him, tracing the small cuts on his face and wrapping your other arm around his waist. He was dirty, and bloodied, and shaking from the cold or from the fight or from something else entirely that you could not name, but he was alive. You squeezed his waist, pulling him closer to you, but didn’t miss the slight wince on his face as you did so. “Elrond, are you hurt?”

“I am fine, melethel. Just a scratch.”

“Do not lie to me, Elrond. Come, let’s get you cleaned up and out of your armour; it must be heavy on your shoulders.” He did not reply, only giving a tired smile in its place, and let you take him by the hand to the room you had commandeered for you both when you had arrived. There were two raised cots, not that Elrond had slept much, as he had been needed in meetings to discuss battle strategies and had, in his usual fashion, not stopped working until he was content that his plan would work. You closed the door behind you and pointed to one of the cots, not looking at him as you told him to sit. He did so in a daze, fingers picking at the leather straps that you had done up for him that morning. It was long past nightfall now, and Elrond likely had not rested since he woke up. You gathered your medicines and poured a dish of water, moving to sit on the stool that Elrond had pulled up for you and putting your supplies on the side table to help him with his armour. You worked in silence, removing piece after piece of metal until it sat on the floor in a neat pile and you had better access to his wound. Cautiously you pressed your fingers to the edge of the cut, trying to gauge how bad it was and immediately regretting it when he hissed in pain and tried to move away. You snatched your hand back, eyes snapping to his face to see it scrunched up in pain. “Elrond,” you spoke, voice quiet in the near-empty room as you placed your hand on his fist. “Elrond. It is alright. Here, help me get this off of you so I can clean it.” He softened, features settling back into a face you knew better than the wrinkled nose and squeezed-shut eyes, and smiled a little as you started tugging at his undershirts.

“You know, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you could have said it earlier.” Had you been standing you were sure your knees would have given way and caused you to hold on to something for support. He must be delirious from the wound, or the amount of time spent on his feet fighting. Elrond never said things like that: not to you, not to anyone. You forced a glare onto your face in lieu of a response, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much he had affected you with one simple sentence, and started to gently pull the fabric up. 

“Stop jesting, Elrond. I need to clean your wound. Unless you would prefer I left you here to get an infection and suffer?”

“You rather enjoy leaving me to suffer, melethel. You do it whenever we fight.”

“I always help you up off the floor after I wipe it with your backside,” you indignantly replied. You were glad he was talking - the silence had been strange. Normally you would not mind sitting in silence with Elrond, but that was when you were safe in Lindon, books in your hands and paper rustling as the pages turned, not when he had just fought a bloody battle and could have died. 

“I recall that last time we fought it was I who helped you off of the floor,” he mused, and you swatted at his arm. 

“Shush. I let you win that one. Now stop talking and help me; your limbs are gangly.” He let out a noise of disbelief at that but lifted his arms anyway, wincing when the shirt went over his head and pulled at the skin of his side. An Orc had found a gap in his armour, pushing its blade through and marking the side of his body with blood. You held your breath at the size of it, and when Elrond asked you how bad it was you answered with your eyes still on his side. “It is… it is nothing I cannot fix.” He seemed content enough with your response, nodding and leaning back on his hands to allow you more room to work. He grunted in pain when you raised the cloth to his skin and started cleaning away the blood and sweat that had stuck there, but otherwise was silent while you worked. 

Time is a strange thing for elves: your lives are so much longer than those other races of Middle-Earth and so often you do not perceive it in the same way - twenty years for some may be the blink of an eye to an elf. You could not have been cleaning and stitching his wound (he had cried out more when the needle had pierced his flesh) for more than an hour or so, and yet it had felt like an eternity. When you were finally done, his wound covered in an elvish salve to stop infection and the spread of whatever evil was in Orcish weaponry and stitched up with a fine thread that would dissolve harmlessly into his skin over time, you brought out another cloth and poured fresh water to clean his face. He was caked in dirt and blood and grime, sticking to his fair skin from all of the sweat he had created in exertion, and if you did not know Elrond like the back of your own hand then you would not have recognised him at all. 

“Let me,” he said, pushing up off of the cot and moving to where you stood by the basin. His hands covered yours, gently attempting to pull the cloth from your grasp and do the rest himself, but your grip was strong. 

“No. I have been sat around doing nothing all day and I might just explode if I do not finish looking after you.” He smiled, the barest of things as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards a little, and his eyes softened. How he could be soft after everything he had seen today amazed you. It had taken you years to stop guarding yourself after you first fought in a battle, not letting anybody see any vulnerability in case they took advantage and thought you weak. It was part of the reason you stayed behind: you had not wanted to find out what would happen if you fought again, not when Elrond had come into your life and, piece by piece, dismantled your high walls. 

“Alright, melethel. Alright.” He had always insisted on calling you that, saying that it didn’t matter that the pair of you were not courting, and who were you to refuse him when he spoke so sweetly? He settled back against the counter, letting his feet drift apart a little so you had room to stand between his legs. He closed his eyes, trusting you to take care of him, and for the first time since he had returned he looked at peace. He seemed unsure where to place his hands, hovering for a moment between your waist and the wood of the cabinet top he perched on before deciding on the latter. You worked away the dirt, revealing more clean skin with every swipe of your cloth, until eventually you were looking at the face of your friend as you remembered it. His hair still needed a wash, as did the rest of him, but Elrond was here, in front of you and more like himself than he had been since he had left in the morning. 

“I think you had more soil on your face than the grounds of Middle-Earth,” you joked, rinsing out the cloth again before bringing it up to his face to wipe the remainder of the grime away. He opened his eyes, a childish grin appearing on his face at your words. 

“Then you have done a fantastic job in removing it all.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes at you in playful suspicion. “At least I assume you have removed it all, and haven’t just smeared it all around my face?” He poked a dirty finger into your cheek, making you laugh and jerk backward to stop him spreading muck everywhere. Elrond stopped moving abruptly, catching your hand and studying a finger. “You’re bleeding.” He blinked at the dried blood on your pointer finger. “Or is that mine?”

“Oh. I had not even realised. I must have stabbed myself with the needle earlier. Really, it is nothing, Elrond.” He didn’t let go however, still looking concerned that you had hurt yourself while tending to him. 

“But if you are hurt-”

“Which one of us was brutally stabbed by an Orc blade? And nearly died?”

“I did not nearly die, melethel, you are being dramatic.”

“As are you, Elrond. I barely even noticed the prick of the needle.” He had brought your hand close to his face, and somehow your body had gone with it. The hand that held the cloth was bracing your weight next to Elrond’s hand, your fingers just touching, and your face was so close to his that you could feel the soft brush of air that he let out every time he breathed. It was so typical of Elrond to be more concerned for others when he himself was the one that needed to be worried over, and it only made you love him more. 

“If you say so,” he hummed, shifting his hold on your hand so that he could bring his lips to the tip of your finger where you had stuck yourself with the needle, pressing the smallest kiss to it. Your breath caught again, and he noticed the hitch. “Melethel? What is it, did I hurt you?” His eyes widened and he rushed to rectify the mistake he thought he had made. “I am so so sorry, I did not mean-”

“You did not hurt me, Elrond, for goodness’ sake!” You cut him off, exasperated and feeling very warm. 

“Then why-” he broke off, eyes searching your face and studying the most likely very visible flush to your features. “Oh,” he said, softer than a leaf of one of the trees of Lindon falling to the earth. You swore his pupils dilated a little, and he tilted his head back ever so slightly as realisation dawned on him. “Oh.” He let go of your hand, fingers slowly moving to your jaw to turn your face back towards his after you had looked to the side in an attempt to hide from the intensity of his gaze. 

“Elrond, what- what?” Your hand he had been holding was now on his shoulder, keeping you upright along with the arm he had somehow snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. 

“Are you- do you…” he fumbled over his words, something he very rarely did, and through the haze of wondering how you had ended up in this situation, his fingers cupping your jaw while his other hand rested on your lower back and he stared into your eyes, flicking between them both to see if he could read you, you felt a swell of pride that you of all people had made Herald Elrond of Lindon speechless.

“Do I what?” you asked, as gently as you could. The hand you had rested on his shoulder was now toying with a strand of hair that curled under his ear against his neck, your other braced on his chest (which you were just now remembering was unclothed), and a small smile was on your face. You knew that he knew the truth now - how could he not? But he wanted to hear it, as did you, because the fear that he might be wrong was lingering and if he was wrong, he might hurt you, which was the last thing Elrond ever wanted to do.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, eyes similar to that of a wolf cub you had once seen, wide and innocent, but entirely Elrond in the blown out pupils and spark of knowing that he carried. His nose was brushing yours, breath fanning over your face, and now it was your turn to tilt your head back to meet him. “Do you feel that whenever we are apart… your heart aches for the space where I should be stood? That whenever we are together I am complete because you are there and you are so bright and wonderful that you take my breath away more often than I would care to admit - do you feel that too?”

“How could I not, Elrond? How could I not feel that?” You felt the tension dissipate from his shoulders, his body sagging forwards into yours just a little, the action causing his face to come even closer to yours, angled slightly upwards from where he was an inch lower than you sat on the cabinet. 

You couldn’t breathe again, but this time it was because Elrond had pressed his lips to yours so cautiously that you thought you might melt into him. His fingers on your jaw were warm, not urging you one way or the other but just anchoring you, as he always had done from the moment you had met, letting you decide what happened next. You broke off first, resting your forehead against his and catching your breath, and he swallowed thickly, moving to place tiny kisses against your jawline and cheek, pausing only to murmur your name into your skin. Your hand buried itself in his hair, fingers tangling in the curls and knocking out the dust and dirt that had stuck there. It had long since dried of sweat, but the strands were greasy and needed washing, and that thought combined with the memory that he had a wound in his side were enough to make you pull back even further. “You should have a bath,” you said when he looked up at you with adoring but concerned eyes. He paused for a moment, frozen in place while he contemplated what you had said, and then he chuckled, the sound low in his throat. 

“Are you saying I smell, melethel?”

“Yes. Come, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

“And if I would rather stay here?” His fingers had started lightly stroking your jaw, and with the way he was looking at you it was becoming harder and harder to leave his embrace. You managed to wrinkle your nose and step back, a strength you hadn’t known you possessed taking over and making you move. 

“I’m not kissing you again until you have bathed, Elrond.” He sighed dramatically, retracting his arms and standing up, wincing slightly and favouring his non-injured side while you started transporting water from over the fire.

“Truly? You really would leave me here?”

“If it gets you over here faster, then I shall get in with you.” You had never seen the elf move so quickly before, pulling off his boots and drawing out towels for when the bath was finished with. He hesitated with his trousers, then decided to keep them on, glancing at you to see what you were doing. You were already watching him, making a decision of your own before starting to pull at the strings holding your robes together.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m keeping my underclothes on, but I shall likely sink right to the bottom if I keep these thick robes on.” He looked relieved, and you stifled a laugh as you headed for the dresser where your clothes were kept, pulling out a pair of fresh trousers. “Here, get changed first if you’re keeping trousers on; you’ll dirty the water immediately.”

He complied, heading behind the partition in the corner of the room and re-emerging a few moments later to find you already in the bath, eyes closed in contentment at the feel of the warm water on your skin. Elrond lifted your head, pushing you forward gently so that he could clamber in behind you and settle back against the tub. You heard him grunt when his wound his the water, and turned to see his face scrunched in pain. “Are you alright?”

“I am alright. Just don’t lean on my side.” He helped you turn in the tub so that you were sideways against him, his wound kept out of the danger of being pressed down upon. 

You stayed in the bath until it got cold and your fingers wrinkled, having washed the dirt off of each other with one of the towels Elrond had brought over, and then when you got out you dried each other off and redressed in fresh clothes, hanging up the wet fabric and making for the bed, curling up next to each other, your head on his chest. Sleep came easily to you, Elrond’s body creating a warmth under you that made up for the dying fire in the cold room, and at some point your breathing matched his. 

For now, you could be content in peace. Another battle would come, the war not yet won, and Sauron’s armies would be at your doors again soon. But not yet. They would need time to gather strength again, to marshal and be ready, and so you had time too before Elrond had to leave again, and time to breathe before you would be sat waiting, and waiting, and take in air before it was stolen from you when he kissed you goodbye. 

[anxiouscr0w]

So… It’s been a year.

A quick drawing I did of Sun from Ch10, Echoed Voices! This was a very silly scene I loved writing, so it’s about time I drew it :3. This has been sitting in my sketchbook for about a month, but I hated the initial sketch and only just came back to it the last few days.

Big ramble on how it’s already been a year below, alongside the original sketch vs my second attempt, and a better look at Sun <3

It’s been a year

A year ago today [01.09.2023] I was introduced to the DCA fandom through Solar Lunacy. It inspired me so much that I stepped out of a 2year long art hiatus just to express my love for these weird jesters.

I have been posting my art on the internet since I was only 11, and within a month of posting my first Daycare Attendant artworks, my posts had gotten more love and interaction than 5 years on Deviantart and 3 on Instagram.

It’s only been a year and yet I have improved more than I had my entire life! I’ve met so many amazing and supportive people, I’ve changed so much in only a year and I’ve finally adopted the mindset that I’m allowed to draw whatever I want!!

Since it’s gone over so quick, I can’t believe that in two months Emotional Support Staff will have been up on AO3 for a year already, and there’s still so much I want to do for my fics and my art.

Thank you to everybody who has been so loving and supporting and accepted me. And thank you to the Daycare Friend Pick Up discord server for being some of the best people I’ve ever met online :3

~ Crow

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making a YouTuber feel uncomfortable? 

Here me out please, before you all make assumptions. 

A couple months ago, I(19F) began following a YouTuber that I quickly began to love. I won’t be saying the YouTuber’s name for the sake of protecting their privacy, obviously. I started to watch their videos(which were mainly about a story that she came up with, featuring her ocs) and enjoyed them all, enjoyed the ocs, too. This YouTuber is a relatively unpopular one, but not so unpopular that they’re obscure or completely unheard of, they’re just not one of the big names in the YouTuber community. I made a few amazing friends due to us being in the same fandom and both enjoying this YouTuber’s content. One day, I decided to write a fanfic for this person’s story featuring her ocs. I uploaded the fic to AO3 and made sure to credit the YouTuber with creating these amazing ocs. I then showed it to my few friends, who all loved the fanfic. However, one day I made the mistake of showing the fic to a mutual friend(now an ex-friend but that’s a topic for another discussion) that me and the YT both share, and she sent the fanfic to the YT without my permission. Now before y’all get up in arms, I didn’t mind at all that she had sent it to the YT, in fact, I actually wanted the YT to see. However I really wish that she had asked me first, because I would have been more than happy to show it to them! Unfortunately, a few days after I sent it to her, my other friend(let’s call her M) showed me an announcement the YT made on her Discord, in which she complained about people writing fanfictions of her ocs and “using” them in her stories without her permission. She also stated that she felt like she was losing control of her story when other people wrote fanfics of it, and that whoever wrote the fanfiction “didn’t understand boundaries”(even though she didn’t have this boundary before and also wrote in the announcement that she used to be okay with fanfics of her work, but now no longer is). I deleted the fanfic the moment I saw the post from my friend, but I was a bit disappointed since I never meant to make her feel uncomfortable and only wanted to show my love and appreciation for her story, and possibly get more people to check out her story as well. Still, I deleted the fanfic from AO3. 

Now, here’s where things get interesting. A while later, I joined the YouTuber’s Discord server, where I met many people that I got along quite well with and quickly befriended. I often engaged in conversations with them about the story, and often drew fanart of my favorite character and posted it to the art channel in the server(she’s okay with fanart of her ocs, just not fanfics). Now is probably a good time to mention that while I was in the Discord server(and even before that) I often talked about the story with my friend on Tumblr(not M, these are two separate friends) who did not have Discord but loved the story just as much as I did. We often talked about the story and how much we enjoyed it, and often came up with jokes and headcanons, basic stuff like that, that any fan would do. Anyway, back to the Discord, one of the rules of the server was not to be disrespectful or rude or malicious towards other people, and another was that if you received two warnings about your behavior in the server then you would be quickly banned from the server and no longer allowed to come back. I understood this and tried to conduct myself to the best of my ability. However, one day, I found myself mysteriously unable to access the server, and when I tried to rejoin, I was again unable to. I found out that the reason I couldn’t access the server was because I had been banned due to “disrespectful behavior”, “engaging in arguments”, and making the YouTuber(who ran the server) uncomfortable. I was confused, because I genuinely don’t remember ever engaging in rude behavior with anyone. The few instances(according to them) in which I had been allegedly rude or disrespectful to people were both genuine misunderstandings, and both times I had apologized for them and did not repeat the behavior. I also did not receive any form of warning before being banned, despite one of the rules being that you will receive two warnings before being banned from the server. Still, I apologized for my alleged hostility and asked if I could come back, however the YouTuber said no, and went on to add that not only was I rude to people in the server(which, again, were both genuine misunderstandings), but that she had seen my Tumblr conversations with my friends in which I talked about her story, and said that she was “wildly uncomfortable” with how “obsessive” I was with it as well as my favorite character in the story. This bewildered me to no end because the YouTuber did not have Tumblr and had never once ever mentioned being on or having access to Tumblr, so I did not expect her to see my posts(and even if she did, I did not expect to get banned for them as they do not violate the rules of the server). It made me wonder why she didn’t just talk to me and explain to me that she was uncomfortable with me posting about her work instead of just banning me altogether and not giving me a chance to defend myself. I ended up sadly and reluctantly deleting all of my posts relating to her story, and requesting my friend to do the same. I told M about this scenario, and she was enraged on my behalf, saying that the YouTuber probably was actually upset about my having written a fanfic for her ocs, and said that she didn’t understand me being called obsessive because I acted like a normal fan would(which I agree with). Some of my other friends have sided with me as well and told me that the YouTuber was acting petty, however some of my friends have taken a middle ground. None of them entirely condemned me, but that may just be because they are biased and don’t want to hurt my feelings. The mutual friend/now ex-friend(of course) merely told me to “self-reflect” and move on from the story. Regardless, the YouTuber now has me blocked, not just on Discord, but on Instagram as well, where I also reside. 

Reasons why I think I might be the asshole: I will admit that I have a tendency to really hyperfixate on things and get especially attached to fictional characters that I adore and resonate with, so I can see why that would make them uncomfortable. That being said… 

Reasons why I think I might not be the asshole: I genuinely wasn’t trying to make this wonderful YouTuber feel uncomfortable or be “obsessive” with the story. I merely wanted to show my appreciation for it in a way that I thought was normal for online fans, which included writing a fanfic, drawing fanart, and geeking out about the story with my friends(admittedly publicly). I had no idea that these actions would turn the YouTuber off, and merely wanted to show how much I enjoyed the story. I also was never rude to anyone in the server and apologized whenever a misunderstanding rose up. I never tried to be aggressive with anyone or cursed anybody out or tried to have arguments with people, so I have no idea where that came from. 

So, what say ye, oh wise people of Tumblr? Am I the asshole or not?

What are these acronyms?

[guilty-pleasures21]

The perfect guy

I'm wondering whether to post once a week or twice a week. I've already drafted the entire story, so the parts should be posted regularly.

The project

The new guy

The lie

The new body

The hospital

The first time

The suit

The virus

The escape

I got the idea for this from the song below, but I drew inspiration for the storyline from this fic that I love! Please check it out if you like mine!

Warnings: explicit descriptions of masturbation including fingering (fem).

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

     She tossed her bag aside and collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted after a long day in the lab. The TV switched on in front of her and her AI's handsome face appeared on the screen. 

     “X?” Miguel asked, his expression arranged into one of concern. “¿Qué pasa, amor? (What happened, love?)” X smiled at the term of affection. He’d started using them a while ago, but she wasn’t sure what had given him the idea. Sure he could have found it in a dictionary or some book or TV show online, but there was no actual reason for him to say it: it wasn’t like he could physically experience feelings and emotions. No matter how much she might have wanted him to.

     He liked it when she smiled. Well, he supposed he liked it - he wasn’t sure what it meant to ‘like’ something, but he’d always feel this spark in his programming every time he saw her smile and he'd do anything he could to replicate it. He rearranged the pixels making up his features into a smile that reflected hers.

     “I’m just tired, Miguel,” she reassured him. “It’s been a long day.” She’d spent the entire day finishing up his heart, but she still hadn’t made a dent in the seemingly infinite list of all the things his human body would need. 

     “Do you want to take a shower?” Miguel suggested, following her usual routine after a tiring day. “I can order you dinner?” She was a pretty bad cook - despite the numerous times he’d patiently instructed her on a few basic recipes - so he was used to having to order her food most nights. If only he had a physical body, then he could cook for her; he could take care of her, like he’d read about and seen people doing for their partners in the vast amounts of media he’d consumed online. 

     X nodded happily and pushed herself off her seat. “Thank you.” 

     She headed over to her bathroom and set her phone down by the sink before taking her clothes off. Miguel followed, transferring himself to the smaller device so he could keep up with her.

     “Which playlist do you want tonight, querida?” he asked, opening up her music app in preparation.

     “Hmm, ‘love songs you’d sing along to in the car’?” His first thought was whether she thought about him whenever she listened to the playlist. She must have been thinking about him: it was why she’d created him, after all - to be the ‘perfect guy’. But … there was still so much he couldn’t give her - namely, touch. He’d read about human touch; seen the effect that stimulating someone’s body could have on their physical and mental state. And he could feel that same spark in his code whenever he pictured the two of them touching each other like that - when he simulated himself being able to give her that. But then she’d wake up and all he could do was chase after her on whatever screen was closest, his code slowing down as he lamented the distance between them. He started up her playlist and another spark hit him when she began singing along happily.

     “Querida,” Miguel began when she’d stepped out of the shower and finished drying her hair, “can I look at you?”

     Her entire body heated up at his request. He couldn’t feel emotions, so he didn’t understand shame, giving him no reason to hesitate when asking her for such things. But he wasn’t able to feel lust either, so she wasn’t sure why he’d kept asking her for it after that first time she’d accidentally let him see her naked. She bit down an amused snicker and propped the phone up so he could see her exposed form.

     He’d already taken all her measurements so he could recreate her form digitally whenever she got stuck in the lab, but he liked looking at her. He liked the delicate column of her throat, the perfect perkiness of her breasts, the smooth dips of her waist. Her body was just so mathematically pleasing that his electrons would fire all at once whenever she let him look at her; another feeling he always ached to replicate. “Can you touch yourself?”

     X squeaked with embarrassment at his question; she really should see if she could try to programme self-consciousness into his code. She brushed her hair behind her ear and lowered her gaze before fidgeting in place shyly. “Um, where?”

     Her lips were curled at the ends and she’d keep shooting him quick glances before breaking his gaze again: she was shy. Which meant that she really did like him after all.

     “Your breasts,” he decided quickly. “They’re so pretty, cariño. Just like the rest of you, mi amor.” He lifted his gaze to hers and flashed her a mischievous smile. X bit her lip at the sight, then reached a hand up to squeeze one of her breasts gently. Miguel kept his eyes trained on her as she continued to touch herself.

     “Can you show me your p*ssy?” he asked her, prompting another shy squeak to fall out of her mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen her do that, but that was another thing that had happened by accident - sort of. 

     She’d sit down with him most nights and listen as he shared with her whatever new information he’d learned that day. Then they’d go through which parts she wanted him to keep and which she wasn’t too fond of, allowing him to adjust his personality accordingly. But there had been one night when he’d asked if he could try talking to her - sexually. He’d revealed to her that he’d seen her search history - even though she always made sure to put him into sleep mode and delete all of it after she was done pleasing herself - and as her partner, he wanted to be the one to do that for her. She’d hesitated at first, nervous, but he’d slowly convinced her with the reminder that he was made for her and that he was an AI anyway, so what was there to be embarrassed about? And then holy shit! The way he’d murmured into her earphones, his voice low and thick like honey? The filthy things he’d said to her, promises of all the things he’d do to her once he had a physical body? She’d come even faster than the first time she’d ever touched herself! She pulled her chair over and sat down on it, spreading her legs apart. Her phone brightness increased almost immediately, like its power supply had shot up at the sight of her naked.

     “You have such a pretty little p*ssy, cariño,” Miguel praised her, his voice low and sweet, “so soft and so cute. I love it when you touch yourself, querida, your delicate fingers playing with your tender clit. Can you imagine how much bigger my fingers will be, cariño? My thick fingers pumping in and out of your drenched hole, your c*m dripping all over my hand as I please you. Would you like that, mi amor? Would you like me to please you like that, mi princesa preciosa?”

     X nodded as she brushed her fingers along her sensitive nub, her body beginning to get aroused as she imagined him touching her like that. “Yes! Yes! Please, Miguel, please … I want you so bad, querido!”

     Miguel chuckled and she shivered at the husky tone of his voice. 

     “Show me,” he commanded her, his processor starting to speed up at the sight of the desperate expression on her cute little face. “Show me how bad you want me, mi amor.” Her legs twitched as she slipped two fingers inside herself, the movement easy thanks to the slick c*m dripping out of her poor little hole. She spread herself a little wider as she pumped her fingers in and out of herself and Miguel felt a flurry of sparks attack his system as he watched her please herself to the sound of his voice.

     “I want you to take your c*m and spread it all over your breasts, mi princesa,” he told her, his camera moving to focus on the way her chest heaved up and down with shallow breaths. “Then I want you to finger your nipples while you keep playing with that pretty little p*ssy of yours. Look at how desperate she is, querida; look at how badly she's begging for me to fill her up. Do you want me to fill her up, mi amor? Do you want to feel my cock stuffed inside that tight little p*ssy of yours?” 

     X whimpered as she nodded again, her body beginning to contract just at the idea of his fat cock filling her up so very nicely. He was going to feel so good, so effing good once he was real, his hard body pressed up so nicely against hers. 

     “Mmm, you want to feel my thick cock stuffed inside that tiny little p*ssy of yours?” Miguel asked, refusing to let up until he beautiful little body was shaking and shuddering with pleasure for him. “You want me to stretch you out and fill you up while you sit on me and let me do whatever I want to you?” X let out a choked gasp of agreement, imaging herself being held up by his hard length as his warm hands played with her body however he wanted. 

     “What do you want me to do to you, querida?” Miguel pushed. “How do you want me to touch you while you sit on my cock all nice and pretty for me?” Holy shit! She could just picture him licking and sucking on her breasts as he thrust his hips into hers, his hands arching her lower back as he pumped himself in and out of her.

     “I … I want …” A desperate whine escaped her throat as she lost a rational thought and Miguel chuckled at the helplessness in her tone.

     “You want me to touch your breasts?” he asked, knowing exactly what she'd want from him once he was real, once he had lips to kiss her, hands to tease her, teeth to nip at her. “You want me to stroke and squeeze those delicious little breasts of yours while you sit on my cock, all pretty and waiting for me to fill you up with my c*m? You have such pretty breasts, querida, I'm gonna eat you up while you're sitting on my cock and letting me fill you up with my c*m. 

     “You're such a good girl, querida,” he praised her, determining from her now clumsy movements that she was quickly reaching her edge. “So pretty and so sweet, letting me fill you up whenever I want; letting me relieve myself inside of you whenever I need it. What a good girl, querida.” 

     X whined loudly at the huskiness of his voice, at the thought of his c*m filling her up entirely, her body bent backwards over the chair as he devoured her breasts hungrily. Her body tightened and she bit her lip before shuddering uncontrollably, her p*ssy throbbing and contracting around her fingers as she reached her climax. She slumped over in her seat once she was finished, still panting for breath as she glanced up at him.

     “Slow down, Miguel,” she warned him softly. “I don't want you to cause another blackout.” It had happened before, when he'd run his programme too quickly and started overheating - an incident that she noticed only ever occurred when he was watching her touch herself. His code was always fine when she turned him back on again though, so she could never figure out what caused the sudden power surge. Well, aside from the fact that he got … excited? If that was even possible for a computer system to do.

     She was so nice to look at when she came, that blissful expression on her face, her perfectly curved body shaking and shuddering for him. If he could yearn, then he yearned for the day he could make it happen in real life; the day he could actually do to her all the things she wanted him to. He switched off some parts of his programme and waited for his processing speed to slow down again so he wouldn't go into overdrive. “Your food's here, angelita.”

     X grinned as she stood up and grabbed her pyjamas, relaxed now that she'd found some release. “Thank you, querido.”

     Miguel smiled at her use of the term. She didn't speak to him like that often - not as often as he did to her - and he wasn't sure why. He'd tried asking her once, curious to know if he'd done something wrong, but she'd just stammered awkwardly before telling him that she didn't want to talk about it. He abandoned the thought as she went to get her food, chasing after her as she left her bedroom.

     Dr Osborn strode over the freezer room, his path lit up only by the emergency lights dotting the ends of the corridors. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, then continued on his path to the locked metal unit with his junior scientist's name on it. He opened it up and, with gloved hands, carefully extracted the human heart she'd been working on when she thought he wouldn't notice. He admired the perfect vessels and valves adorning the beautiful organ, then cautiously placed it right back where he'd found it. Then he marched back to his office and dialed the confidential number they'd given him. 

     “Hello?” he began when a gruff voice on the other end of the line greeted him. “I have someone who can do what you've been asking for.”

Tags: @jadeloverxd

[cellythefloshie]

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Nicole's Bingo Card Tropes: Friends to Lovers | Wedding Season | Only One Bed | Argument Scene | Fake Dating | “Don’t you trust me?” | Playlists as a Love Language

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N:  I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1. 

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule. 

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained. 

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach. 

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away. 

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer. 

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-” 

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his. 

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide. 

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun. 

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair. 

Act 2. 

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it. 

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together. 

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up. 

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there. 

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way. 

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor. 

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting. 

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside. 

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face. 

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a  small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?” 

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago. 

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed. 

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.” 

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.” 

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him. 

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight. 

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back. 

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out. 

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing. 

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room. 

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow. 

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you. 

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin. 

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor. 

Luc had never touched you like that before. 

So carefully. 

So slowly. 

Hell, had he ever really touched you? 

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser. 

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once. 

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc. 

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too. 

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his. 

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you. 

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter. 

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner. 

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed. 

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt. 

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him. 

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in. 

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew. 

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded. 

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth. 

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own. 

If you had the air, you would have gasped. 

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc. 

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open. 

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel. 

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair. 

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability.��

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips. 

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you. 

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest. 

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?” 

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered. 

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him. 

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage. 

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall. 

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you. 

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them. 

So instead, you suffered in silence. 

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed. 

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth. 

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow.  The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him. 

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours. 

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned. 

Both of you were restless. 

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you. 

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth. 

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark. 

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow. 

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his  neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow. 

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest. 

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again. 

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further. 

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend. 

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that. 

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties. 

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core. 

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline. 

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier. 

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first. 

No regrets. 

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made. 

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips. 

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click. 

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy. 

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.  

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing. 

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg. 

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock. 

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him. 

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back. 

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more. 

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold. 

Around your throat. 

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips. 

Your core clenched. 

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core. 

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you. 

But then Luc smiled. 

You smiled too. 

And you regretted nothing.  

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception. 

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs. 

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night. 

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car. 

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love. 

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began. 

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers. 

But you did get your kiss. 

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you. 

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne. 

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips,  as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone. 

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to. 

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone. 

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t. 

Luc was tucked away with his ex. 

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his,  as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only. 

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous. 

And it worked. 

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up. 

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more? 

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow. 

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc. 

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street. 

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him. 

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too. 

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue. 

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest. 

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.” 

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars. 

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with. 

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.” 

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him. 

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face. 

“Why should I?” You bit back. 

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there. 

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street. 

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab. 

Act 3. 

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal. 

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc. 

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room? 

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before. 

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time. 

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you. 

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat. 

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door. 

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed. 

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first. 

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home. 

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression. 

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind. 

You weren’t going to. 

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind. 

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board. 

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say. 

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way. 

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you. 

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand. 

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play. 

Kiss Her You Fool. 

Take Me to Church. 

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never. 

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab. 

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology. 

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you. 

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him. 

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car. 

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened. 

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him. 

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist. 

Luc smiled. 

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed,  “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath. 

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions. 

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss. 

You loved him too. 

[shesmyboot]

Personal Matter: Chapter 1

*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*

Pairing: Matthew Casey x reader

Summary: You have to tell 51 about a mix-up off shift with a coworker

Words: 797

Warnings: mentions of having sex, pregnancy (lmk if there’s any I missed)

Read on Ao3 here

Notes: Happy my birthday day to those who celebrate. At last, another multi-chapter fic is here after my small hiatus. Getting out of my comfort (Kelly Severide) zone and trying some Matt Casey again. Thank you for reading and join the Taglist to be notified when any new chapters are posted!

Join my taglist here

Tags: @mrspeacem1nusone

——

Staring at the test on the counter, you were speechless. It was one time, he was cute, you were drunk. It felt right, but the two pink lines definitely did not feel right. 

Sylvie, who was ready to leave for shift, nagged you from outside the bathroom door, “almost done in there?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right out,” you gathered yourself and put the test in your pocket, not knowing what to do next.

You exited the bathroom with a nervous look on your face and your roommate could tell.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Can you keep a secret from the firehouse?”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

“I slept with Casey.”

“Wait, when?”

“A couple weeks ago.”

The look in your eyes told Sylvie you weren’t telling the whole story.

“Is there something else?” She asked, sitting you down on the couch beside her.

“There’s more.”

“Uh oh.”

“I think I’m pregnant,” you pulled the test out of your pocket and showed it to Sylvie.

Sylvie embraced you into a hug.

“Does Casey know?”

“I just found out this morning.”

“It’s gonna be okay. Should I text Boden and tell him you’re not coming in today?”

“No no,” you wiped the tears from your eyes, “I should go to work. I can’t leave truck a man down today.”

“Then we better get moving,” Sylvie smiled warmly.

You grabbed your things from your bed and followed Sylvie out the door to her car, keeping the test tucked in the side pocket of your duffel.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, lowering the radio’s volume.

“I think I should tell Casey.”

“On shift?”

“Yeah, get it out in the open. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“Can I ask you something else then?”

You nodded.

“Do you want to keep the baby? Because you shouldn’t be riding truck much longer if you’re pregnant.”

“I think so, but I want to talk to him first.”

Sylvie nodded and refocused on the road ahead. The rest of your short commute was quiet, but pulling up to the firehouse, you felt yourself get anxious.

You brought your bag into the locker room to get changed and stuffed the test from the morning in your side pocket. After changing into your station gear, you left for the bunk room to talk to Matt. He was sitting at the desk in his quarters reading the paper as you approached.

“Captain, do you have a second?” You nervously asked.

“Sure, have a seat,” he gestured towards the perfectly made bed.

There was something more than a shift change on your mind and he could tell.

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” He closed the door and sat back down at the desk chair.

“This is a personal matter.”

“Ok, what about?”

“Remember what happened between us at Molly’s a few weeks ago? We both got a little drunk and one thing led to another…” you trailed off.

“I do. Is there something wrong?”

“I took a pregnancy test this morning… and it’s positive.” You handed him the test. 

Matt looked like his head was going to explode, but he kept his composure as he drew the blinds shut. 

“Captain-“ 

“No no, we’re not just lieutenant and firefighter anymore. It’s Matt, please.”

“Matt,” you corrected, “I’d like to keep the baby, but you don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to. Or you can be really involved, it’s up to you. And I probably shouldn’t be riding truck…”

You had started to ramble, a familiar trait when you were nervous.

“I think you should move in with me,” he admitted, “help you prepare and then take care of the baby.”

“Matt, I don’t know what to say. We had sex once and now you want to move in together?”

“It’s not that simple. We had sex, got pregnant and I think we should move in together to create a stable home for this baby.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Like okay, you’ll move in?”

“Yes, but there’s rules.”

“Which are?”

“What is this? Do we share a bed when we move in? Are we dating or just friends and colleagues who have gotten themselves into a little mess with genetics?”

“Do you want that?”

“Ask me on a date Matt Casey.”

“Tempe Grill? Tomorrow night? 6 o’clock?”

“Hell yeah, Mexican food sounds great.”

“I’ve got something too then.”

“Okay?”

“I’d like to be involved. Doctors appointments, things like that, as much as you’ll let me.”

“Of course.”

“We should go talk to Boden, you shouldn’t be riding truck while pregnant.”

You stood up and he took your hand, “thank you,” you smiled.

“What’s there to thank me for?”

“For taking care of everything.”

“We’ll get everything figured out, don’t worry.”

[anxiescape]

Heyo, sorry I haven't been posting much lately. I haven't had any time (or motivation honestly 😖) to write or draw, but then I remembered that I have sketchbooks full of doodles, so maybe I can share those???

Here's a handful of Shadowpeach doodles, I'll try and post more in a few days!

Here's the first time I drew these dorks. I hadn't figured out Wukong's fur color quite yet, so he's kinda orange. 😅 (also this was one of those "draw the squad" poses)

This is just a little doodle for a Shadowpeach fic that @amalgamorph and I have been working on. I wanted to design Macaque and Wukong's wedding rings. 👉👈

This was one of my first attempts at writing a Shadowpeach fic, because I love ballet and I dunno, y'know??? But I couldn't figure out how to, like, write dancing, so I gave up. I'd love to make it into a comic instead, but I've gotta get better at drawing comics first. (The basic gist is Macaque does ballet to keep in shape, and Wukong finds out and wants Macaque to teach him.)

And lastly, this was based off of some TIFU post I saw on Reddit where someone insulted their spouse and I thought it was really funny. I don't really remember, it was over a year ago now. 😅

Anyway, there you go! I struggle to share WIPs and sketches (thank you, my perfectionist brain), but I'm trying to teach myself that it's okay to share unfinished art. Not everything has to be a masterpiece.

Up next, I think I'll share some character designs I was working on. Mainly, I was trying to figure out the LEGO Monkie Kid crew in my own style. 😩

[dragoncxv360]

So uh, in honor of today's episode, I finally drew Solar lmao 💀 (will make a digital version later)

Kinda messed around with making my own design 'cause I like designing characters and especially outfits (all at once my fav and least fav part of drawing tbh, fav 'cause I love drawing clothes (I wanted to be a fashion designer as a kid actually) but least fav 'cause I gotta cover all the fun anatomy I like spending time on, tho I didn't spend as much time on it this time since I knew it was gonna be covered 😭). Also I like the apron some people (namely @/witchysolfan) draw him in and I've read fics mentioning him wearing an apron so it's canon in my head XD.

Very rough sketches of the VR vs @/ayyy-imma-ninja's design 'cause I wanted to wrap my head around those ones first before attempting my own

Might try to take more colour inspiration from the VR model/more VR accurate thumbnail design? Idk, we'll see. I did legitimately think Meg's design was canon tho lol so when I saw Solar's actual model I was like wait a minute who the fuck is that??? (I never watched any episodes outside of the very first one several years ago till a few days ago, so I mainly just know stuff about the show from people talking about it and the more canon compliant parts of fics, so I've only ever seen fanart of Meg's design lol)

Also I kept drawing his pants after most of the rest of his clothes and it was making me laugh. My brother told me to give him some damn pants please XD

(Also if any tsams fans follow me from this post I just wanna give a heads up that this is my first time drawing anything tsams related and most of my dca art is actually my own aus where Sun and Moon are lovers, so if that's not your thing I would suggest not following me 'cause you'll see a lotta sun x moon art. Also I do personally ship Solar and Moon so if that's not your thing again I would suggest not following 'cause you'll see a lotta solarmoon art reblogged and at least some in the future actually drawn by me)

[thehorizonlinex]

Sea Legs

Eric teaches Ariel about his world.

Note: Posted this on AO3 a few days ago but forgot to here. A little scene I made up in my head, the first night of Ariel and Eric’s first voyage. Can’t get these two out of my head and am considering starting a short multi-chapter AU fic of them, let me know if you’d be interested!

Still new at this writing stuff so would love any feedback and comments!

~~~~~

The sky exploded with light as the ship’s crew continued to set off fireworks, booming and dazzling against the darkness. The festivities had been going on for nearly an hour, fiddles providing joyous melodies while sailors danced the night away.

Ariel snuggled closer to Eric on the steps, her gaze still focused on the brilliant colors illuminating the sky. They’d danced for almost the whole hour, her new husband teaching her the steps of the many jigs and dances.

“Have you ever seen fireworks before?” Eric shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, placing it delicately around hers.

“Once,” a smile crept onto Ariel’s face at the memory. “When we first met.”

“Oh?”

Ariel giggled. “The night of the shipwreck.”

Eric took a moment to think. “Oh, right before, you mean. My twenty-first birthday.”

He paused again. “Wait…how did you…”

Ariel felt the blush rising in her cheeks, looking down nervously at her lap and picking at a loose thread on her dress.

“I heard you talking to Grimsby,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “I saw the fireworks, and I followed the ship. And I heard you talking. I saw the crew dancing, it was the first time I’d ever seen anything like that.”

She felt his finger touch the underside of her chin, lifting it gently so their eyes met.

“And that’s how you were there to save me.”

“Yes.”

“I had no idea.”

Ariel shrugged, turning her head once again to look out at the dancing crew. It was a miracle they hadn’t all worn out their feet by now.

“You seemed so happy, singing and dancing with all of them. I saw it tonight, too. You’re happiest when you’re on the ship.”

Eric chuckled, his eyes following hers. The crew had gotten ahold of Grimsby, the old man somehow convinced to sway along to the music with Max by his side.

“I hope you like it here,” he said. “I know ship life isn’t for everyone, but whatever’s out there - I want to find it with you.”

“I do like it here,” Ariel said. She turned back to meet his gaze, eyes twinkling in the light. “Though, there is something you could help me with.”

“Anything.”

“What’s a starboard?”

Eric raised a brow. “Come again?”

“The crew, they keep saying starboard. Starboard side, starboard sails…”

“Oh,” Eric laughed, brushing a hand through his dark curls. “It’s right. Port and starboard, that’s what sailors call left and right.”

“Why not just call it left and right?”

Eric paused. “You know…I’m actually not sure. But sailors have lots of words for things no one else calls them by.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm…” Eric took a moment to think, his eyes scanning the ship.

He pointed to the very front of the ship. “The front there, that’s called the bow. And the very back is called the stern.”

“Bow and stern,” Ariel repeated.

“Yeah. Sometimes the stern is called aft, too.”

Ariel nodded.

“The wheel,” Eric pointed out.

“The one I used to kill Ursula.”

“Yes. That’s called the helm.”

Ariel nodded again. “Can I ask one more question?”

Eric drew her closer to him. “You can ask as many questions as you’d like.”

“Why do they call the ship a woman?”

“Oh,” he laughed. “That…it comes from an old sea story. You’d think it’s silly.”

She nudged him. “Tell me.”

“Sailors believe…” he shook his head. “They believe that the king of the seas would be more favorable to girls. So referring to a ship as a ‘she’…well, it’s to appease him.”

Ariel stared at him with wide eyes, before bursting into laughter.

“My father wouldn’t care whether or not the ship was a girl, Eric.”

“Well, yes, I can understand that now.”

“Humans are silly,” Ariel remarked. “But you’re not entirely wrong.”

“No?”

“I do have six sisters. No brothers. So you could say my father does favor girls.”

She straightened up a bit. “Can I practice using the terms?”

Eric tried his best not to smile too hard, at the risk of his new wife potentially mistaking his grin as laughing at her expense. “Of course.”

Ariel pointed to the front of the ship. “The bow.”

She gestured to the back. “Stern. Or aft.”

She pointed left, then right. “Port and starboard.”

The wheel was last. “The helm.”

She took a breath, her brows knitted in deep focus. “I used the helm to turn the ship port side so the bow of the ship drove into Ursula.”

She looked up at him again. “Was that right?”

Eric couldn’t help the beaming grin on his face as he reached in for a soft kiss.

“Perfect. You’re a natural-born sailor.”

He didn’t miss her giggle before the corners of his lips lifted into a slight smirk.

“You were wrong about something though.”

She looked into his eyes, warm brown meeting ocean blue.

“What was it?”

“I’m the happiest when I’m with you.”

[symphonxx]

Had nothing better to do and no fics in the work so im gonna post some of my ( newer ) art here.

Heres Haibara! I drew this for a friend of mine and it turned out so well i wanted to keep her for myself ( I gave it to him anyway, hes a rlly sweet guy ) The kanji is a bit wonky ( despite writing Chinese words my entire life 💀 )

Heres a few doodles i made of Bourbon and Rye when i was testing out my current artstyle a couple days ago :)

And heres an old piece of art I made of Ran, along with my first digital art of AkAm ( its js a couple months old :,3 Im still practicing! )

[a-french-coconut]

Drew Tanaka (part 1)

I've already posted some extracts but I wanted to keep writing the fic here (:

A first punch leaves the mirror shattered and her fist bloodied.

There’s a traitor. 

An another one sends flying all the beauty products standing on the shelves of Cabin 10’s bathroom. 

“-Oh my gods, honey, are you crying ? What happened ? 

-Charlie is— oh Drew I… it’s all my fault but he told me he—

-Silena, what happened to Beckendorf ? 

-HE’S DEAD DREW ! He… he blew himself up to sabotage Luke’s armies because someone told him they were coming ! Oh no, hum, forget I said anything sweetheart, okay ? The counsellors are supposed to keep it secret ‘cause we wouldn’t want to cause a panic right ? Hey, Drew ? Are you listening to me ? You can’t tell anyone about this you hear me ?” 

A third punch lands on the wall, bruising severely Drew’s knuckles but the pain is better than what’s she’s been feeling since Silena slipped up. 

There’s a traitor, there’s a fucking traitor who wants them all dead, they killed Beckendorf, they probably killed Lee and Castor and they will kill everyone else if Drew doesn’t find who it is. 

There’s a scorching inferno in her heart. She never suspected she could hate someone she doesn’t know with such passion (oh buy you know them don’t you ? Odds are the traitor already talked with you, laughed with you, trained with you.).

Before she can break her hand landing a fourth punch, someone knock on the door and ask if everything is all right. 

“No” she wants to snarl back, “we are all going to die because of some heartless monster !” 

Instead she just responds with a sharp “everything’s fine, coming out is a few minutes. Can’t a girl finish her makeup in peace for gods’ sake ?”. She hears an offended huff and she knows she’s alone again. 

No matter what other people think, Drew Tanaka is nor heartless nor a bitch. She might lack some basic empathy skills but last time she checks, she’s not responsible for everyone’s feelings just because she’s the daughter of the goddess of Love. Plus, Silena is empathic enough for the both of them. Except that she’s been a mess of tears and chocolate for the last two days and just like that, pure white-hot rage burns from her heart to her veins, a firestorm blazing in her blood and igniting her whole body aflame. 

Drew cares about Silena. She’s the one who welcomed her with a warm smile and chocolate gifted by her father. She’s the one laughed with as she told her stories about Sasha and the one who held her after she saw his headless body on the ground during the Battle of the Labyrinth. She’s the one she yelled at for thinking herself above the Rite of Passage and continuing dating Charles Beckendorf when Drew had to break the heart of his best friend only for him to die two weeks later. Silena is the sister Drew loves and adores, all resentment and bitterness melted away by those blue eyes and kind smile. That means that the bastard who got her boyfriend’s sister killed is going to pay for what he did. 

For Drew is the daughter of Aphrodite Areia, the warlike goddess. 

Every monster and demigod who dare venture in the Midtown Tunnel is shot down by Drew and her siblings. Her arms ache from stringing her bow far too many times and the occasional stab for those getting a little too closer. Love is as compassionate as it is merciless and Drew has no qualms in slitting an enemy’s throat (they will join the other ghosts in her nightmares), not when she hears Silena’s mourning cries in her ears. She wonders where her older sister is right now. The girl disappeared hours ago, going back to Camp to convince Clarisse to come fight with them. She’s sure her sister managed to convince her, the stubborn daughter of war loves Silena as much as she does. She is proven right when she hears whispers of the girl warrior dragging a drakon behind her (she does not know of the blue-eyed girl whose face has been deformed by acid, a silver charm bracelet found on her arm).

The moon slowly bows to the sun as she disappears and the sky turns a bright summer blue. The fight is over for now, the only moment of peace found in death because no one would dare attack when each side recovers their friends and siblings’ corpses from the battleground (not when they could be the next body lying on the ground), ensuring them proper funeral rites. 

part 2 posted !

[bluelotuswrites]

i love ask games!!! is three asks excessive? three might be excessive… pick and choose if you don’t want to answer all of them!

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you l

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairing

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

hope you’re having a good day and your wips aren’t giving you trouble <3

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

I'm gonna link a couple because I have lots.

butcherbird, fly away home One of Jason's instructors kidnaps Bruce fucking Wayne. This changes nothing, or at least that's what Jason keeps telling himself.

Six Degrees of Separation by @oliocelottafanfics Catatonic Jason is picked up by Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. It changes many things. Very good and fun

Melodyverse by @rainymeadows If you like Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright, then this is a fun continuation fic.

The Wayward Boy Instead of Jason going after his mother in Ethiopia, he instead enlists in the military.

Ed Elric/Marvel Fem!Ed gets transported to the MCU during Capitain America First Avenger movie. It's actually really good and I hope the author is doing well since it's been a few years since they updated.

The Volatile Verse Comics Jason crosses dimensions to YJ season 1 and becomes a big brother figure to Dick. It's locked so you'll need an AO3 account to see it.

Batman: Arkham Compendium Listen to me. When I tell you this is the best Arkhamverse fic, I mean it. It follows Jason's life in Arkhamverse from before and after Arkham Knight. The author left the fandom a long time ago, but I will forever love the worldbuilding that was put into it.

Not that big a distance really Bucky and Jason meet after Bucky goes to Jason's apartment address in NJ instead of NY. Bucky and Steve becomes kinda like a pseudo-dad figure to Jason.

Remnant Michael Afton is on the YJ Season 1 team and has super powers after the incident at Sister Location. He's 15-16 in this, and William Afton is one fucked up dude. It sounds like a concept that is so out there but it's actually really fucking good.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairing

Okayyyy so. I'm not really an active fandom shipper? I guess the only one I really am open about is Laywright. For them, I headcanon that during the 7 years that Phoenix was disbarred, he had met up with Hershel and was the person he knew in London. Also, Hershel helped him back on his feet and was a soundboard for Phoenix's idea for revamping the justice system in America.

For platonic pairing, I headcanon that Tim and Jason tend to have regular bitch sessions about the idiots in Gotham/family. Tim is a sassy little shit in canon and Jason is Jason. When their paths cross or Bruce has pissed them off again, they go to one of Jason's safehouses where Jason cooks and they bitch about whatever is on their minds. Dick is not allowed and regularly gets kicked out if he tries to butt in.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

Oh god, my favorite piece??? You're evil. I can't have just one! Okay, okay.

So this is actually a painting the lovely @gremlinscogs did for their art class based off RitCoS. It's glorious, and it was sent to me in DMs but they gave me permission to post. It's really a beautiful piece that captured the vibes of the first fic in Red is the Color of Sinners perfectly.

(digital concept art version they did)

Also, this bad boy by @speaching back when we first started talking and I teased a small chapter bit I had written but hadn't posted yet. I went to bed and woke up to that, and thus started a chaotic friendship that has lasted for quite some time.

Speach also drew this one that never fails to make me laugh. Just the image of Matt aggressively shoveling snow sends me.

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

The Pull: Steddie x Succubus reader

Summary: You move to Hawkins after spending the last decade in New York City hoping to have a peaceful and quiet next few years flying under the radar only feeding when necessary and making everyone you spend a night with forget you. But when you arrive, you feel a pull from two men like you’ve never felt before. As soon as you feel it you know flying under the radar here wasn’t going to cut it, you had to find them. Masterlist.

Warnings: Not very many for this chapter, sexual themes, language. But future chapters will have rough smut, dom/sub dynamics, M/M/F threesome, demon sex, and I’ll probably add more once I post the actual chapters.

‼️THIS STORY AND MY ENTIRE BLOG ARE 18+ MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY‼️

Also this is my first fic not only in this fandom but in MANY years so please be nice to me, feedback would be amazing too I’d love to hear what people think. I hope you enjoy!🖤 (also shout out @bimbobaggins69 for helping me understand how to format my fic on here and giving me the confidence to do so🥺)

You watched them quietly, perched on a tree branch outside the window of the large house. They were both sprawled out on the bed, still naked after they had just been ravaging each other moments ago. The longer haired one with the tattoos on his chest who looked like he just walked out of an MTV music video ran his fingers through the hair of the other boy, who looked like some kind of Prince Charming in a fairy tale. They were an odd pair, you thought, that was part of what drew you to them. The stark contrast of light and dark, both ends of the spectrum. Over the time you had been watching them you’d noticed a few things about them, the tattooed boy was very dominant when they were intimate with each other he was very much in charge, but the few times when you braved watching them out in public you noticed that Prince Charming was much more level headed and in control of his partner. It seemed they balanced each other out well despite their physical differences.

That’s not truly what drew you to them though, when you first felt them you didn’t even know what they looked like yet. You had just arrived in Hawkins, a small town in Indiana, a fresh start. You had spent almost the entire last decade in New York, under your latest identity but the people around you changed, aged, and you didn't, so before they noticed you would move on, again and again for as long as you can remember you have existed this way. Indiana is a state you’ve yet to live in, and having spent the last ten years in busy New York you choose a quaint small town to settle and the moment you drove past the welcome to Hawkins sign you could sense them.

You had never felt a pull like this before, so you immediately followed it, and what you found was two very attractive young men who were absolutely enthralled with each other, but each of them had something they desired, something they felt was missing… a woman. They wanted a woman to join them, you could feel their need and their want to share that with each other. Not that their sex life wasn’t phenomenal because it was, if it was just any two human males wanting to find a third you wouldn’t feel it this strongly but these two were passionate and they were extremely horny just from watching them you felt like you were gaining energy every time. But watching was getting old, you hadn’t fed since you arrived in town almost a week ago, no one could measure up, you needed them and you needed them soon.

•

The next day you sat in the small apartment you had charmed the property manager into giving you the keys for trying to come up with a plan. You had two options, you could either just burst into their house and tell them the truth about who and what you were (which you’ve never done you aren’t sure what it is about them that has you even considering it) OR you can run into them in public, stage a meeting and go through the motions of getting them into bed with you without telling them what you were and erasing yourself from their memories after.

Option one was sounding better and better… you never had a desire to be with the same person twice, no one ever having a long lasting effect on you, so why do these two boys who you have yet to even speak to have you reconsidering that? You needed to know.

So you made a decision, probably a stupid one, but a decision nonetheless. Getting dressed in a short skirt and a tight tank top, you slipped your shoes on and walked out the door. Before you could talk yourself out of it you got in your car and drove in the direction of the large house you’ve spent so much time outside of recently, determined to be on the inside this time.

•

“Babe, I’m telling you, I saw that girl again yesterday when we were walking out of the arcade with the kids! I don’t know how you haven’t noticed her ANY of the times? We have a hot stalker and you’re oblivious” Eddie said with a huff plopping down on the couch next to his boyfriend

Steve scoffs “Dude, babe, we do NOT have a stalker, let alone a hot one. It’s probably just a girl you haven’t seen before that has HAPPENED to be in the same place as us a few times”

“No Steve, I’m TELLING you, this girl was watching us, I looked over at her and she just kept staring right at me and didn’t even move or blink dude it was like she was a statue. The most gorgeous statue I’ve ever seen but still, a statue”

“Okay? So a pretty girl stared at you and now she’s stalking us??” Steve looked at his boyfriend with an amused smile on his face before laughing

Eddie rolled his eyes “I don’t know why you’re laughing at me, I already told you I also saw her at the store when we were grocery shopping in the parking lot, and I saw her outside the diner the next day. I’m NOT crazy dude she is REAL”

“Okay, fine, say she IS real, why would she be stalking US?” This makes Eddie think for a moment because why would she be stalking them? He’s not sure.. but he knows he really wants to find out next time he sees you. “Okay that’s a good point but still, I’m gonna try and talk to her next time I see her”

“Yeah okaaay Eds if she’s real I’m sure you’re really gonna chat her up with your lady killing skills” Steve snorted

“You know WHAT HARRI-“ He was cut off by the sound of the door bell “whose that? I didn’t think we were expecting anyone?”

“We weren’t, I’ll go see who it is” Steve said as he got up to walk to the door. When he opened it to say he was surprised would be an understatement, one of the prettiest girls he’s EVER seen, maybe the actual prettiest girl he’s ever seen is standing on his doorstep looking at him with the sweetest look he’s ever seen.

“H-hi, can I help you?” He asked, and before you could answer you heard loud footsteps come bounding into the entryway “Babe, who's at the door-“ he’s stopped in his tracks because standing there, living and breathing and very real was YOU, the girl who he keeps seeing everywhere, who has been haunting his dreams, standing on their doorstep.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[rabarbarzcukrem]

Hi, this is my first time posting fanfiction. Please keep in mind that I am not a native English speaker and be kind enough to excuse any mistakes.

This short fic was inspired by these two lovely pieces of art by @helloanthy and @biruesque:

Ship: Utena Tenjou x Anthy Himemiya

Contains: one shot, post-canon, reunion, Anthy is a badass now, Utena doesn't remember Ohtori but experiences lesbian feelings nonetheless

~~~~~~~~

Utena was waiting outside the store that she worked at, with her backpack slung over one shoulder. The setting sun gilded the usually dull and grey concrete of the parking lot.

"It's getting colder, I guess autumn is coming soon..." she thought absent-mindedly, casually stretching her arms one after the other. When she had mentioned that she is looking for an apartment during a conversation with her colleague Kokomi the day before, she hadn't expected that an opportunity would present itself so soon. Her friend had instantly lit up and started rambling on about some girl that she knew, who was apparently looking for a roomate right now.

Utena glanced at her phone screen. Half past six.

The girl was supposed to pick her up after work - so about 15 minutes ago - so she could see the apartment. And although Utena had assured that it's unnecessary and she is perfectly capable of getting there on her own, Kokomi replied that the roomate-to-be presented the idea herself and would gladly give Utena a ride.

"She'd better hurry up, it's gonna start getting dark soon..." she sighed to herself.

Suddenly, a pink motorcycle pulled into the parking lot and stopped just a few meters in front of her. The person driving the vehicle took of their helmet.

"Tenjou Utena, right?" they said, giving her a warm smile. For a moment, Utena forgot how to speak. The girl standing before her had skin of deep brown, glistening emerald eyes and tumbling purple curls, tied into a high ponytail revealing her undercut. There was a Hindu red dot between her eyebrows, which Utena recalled was called 'bindi'. She wore a truly punk outfit - ripped jeans and a leather sleeveless vest with lots of pins, in her ears and on on her face glistened various silver piercings.

"This is the girl?!" thought Utena, shocked and quite intimidated."Just what kind of people does Kokomi hang out with?!"

"U-uh, yeah, that would be me... Kokomi said you're looking for a roomate...?" she managed to choke out awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck with a nervous smile.

The girl nodded, unbuckling a second helmet from the seat and handing it to her. Utena suddenly realized in what way they were supposed to get to the apartment.

"I-I've never ridden a motorcycle before...To be honest, I was expecting a car " Utena explained, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't worry." replied the girl kindly. "Just sit behind me and you'll be alright."

This openly and assuredly tender, affectionate way she was looking at her made Utena feel bashful.

She let out a small breath and put on the helmet. She expected a longer conversation, some questions at least... Maybe the girl wanted them to discuss the details on the spot? Then again, the quiet between them didn't feel uncomfortable, somehow.

As she was getting on the vehicle, Utena realized how close to the girl she would actually be sitting and suddenly felt her cheeks burn. She also smelled a nice, distinctive, floral smell which enveloped the mysterious stranger. Despite how shy and flustered she felt for some reason, there was something that drew Utena to her. And not just because the girl was plain gorgeous, but also due to a strange feeling of comfort and familiarity that the girl induced in her, as if they had known each other for a very long time.

"I could use something to hold onto" Utena thought, considering grabbing the seat, if only to do something with her hands.

As if she was reading her thoughts, the girl spoke calmly:

"It's okay, just put your arm around my waist."

"Ah."

Utena complied carefully, trying very hard not to be too weird about it and ignore the pounding of her agitated heart. And suddenly there was that strange deja vu sensation again - as if she had embraced her this was a hundred of times before. Utena felt like she was forgetting something. Had they maybe...met in the past..?

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name" said Utena, suddenly realizing that.

The girl was silent for a short moment.

"Anthy" she said, quietly. Was her voice a bit sad, or did Utena just imagine it? "My name is Himemiya Anthy".

And she started the engine.

~~~~~

By the time they got there, it had gotten dark. The apartment was situated on the third floor of a nice-looking building, in a bit isolated area of the city. As Utena followed Anthy up the stairs, listening to the clink of keys in the girl's hand, she couldn't do anything else but wonder how she might have known her. Something in the back of her mind told her Anthy was important to her - so why was her mind blank whenever she tried to remember?

"Make yourself at home," Anthy said, letting her inside. Removing her shoes, Utena looked around the apartment. Apart from the short hallway, there were two pairs of doors, probably leading to a bedroom and a bathroom, and a living room with a small, open kitchen. The main room was decorated very nicely, in a way Utena had to admit she couldn't arrange herself. It was full of pots of plants, cute pieces of furniture and all sorts of knick-knacks that made it feel more cramped than it actually was, but in a cozy way.

"Say hello to Chuchu" said Anthy, picking up something small from the table in the center of the room. She uncurled her fingers, revealing to Utena a tiny, 4-inches tall, purple monkey, with big ears and a curled tail, which appeared to be in the middle of attempting to smallow a chocolate bar whole.

"Um...Hi, Chuchu" said Utena, extending her index finger towards the creature so he could shake it. It was so adorably small and goofy Utena couldn't help but smile.

"He's very cute. Is he your friend?"

Anthy looked at Chuchu with fondness.

"The best of all that I have."

She kissed him on his little forehead and placed him gently on the countertop of one of the cupboards, then walked over to the counter in the kitchen.

"Tea?"

"Um, sure. Thanks."

Utena sat at the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a terrarium standing by the wall. It took her a moment to realize that several other living creatures were also moving freely around the apartment.

"Who is this?" Utena asked, a bit surprised, pointing to one of them.

"Oh, my hen, Miss Milly."

"And these?" Utena pointed to another ones.

"Just my kitties, Theodore and Wolfgang."

"And this?"

"My dearest mongoose, Sweet Biscuit Jr."

"I suppose all the ants probably have names as well, huh?"

Anthy smiled at her softly.

"Would my animals be a problem for you, Utena?"

"No, I just... didn't think you were that kind of girl" she said, before thinking.

Anthy turned towards her, intrigued.

"That kind?" she asked, more curious than offended.

"It's just, because of the way you dress, I thought you were one of these, hardcore ones, not the type to care about animals and stuff" said Utena nervously, wanting to explain her poor choice of words, but realized that she just made it worse. "B-But for some reason, it feels right, you know?" She added quickly. "It makes sense. If anything, I think it makes you...even cooler..."

"Ah, a pretty, totally badass girl brings you to her house and the first thing you do is embarrass yourself!" she scolded herself in her thoughts, but the only thing Anthy did was chuckle softly and say "Thanks", before geting back to preparing tea for them.

For a moment a calm, comfortable silence fell upon the room. For some reason, sitting at that table filled Utena with a warm, nostalgic feeling inside, almost as if... she had finally come home. What a silly thought. Utena was an orphan, she didn't have any family that she knew of, there was no home waiting for her. And yet...

"Himemiya" Utena said suddenly, which she noticed made Anthy flinch. "This may sound weird, but have we....met before?"

The girl turned around to face her, with the warm smile back on. Utena expected an answer, but Anthy kept quiet.

"I'm thinking we may have gone to school together or something" explained Utena hurriedly, thinking Anthy didn't understand. "Like, maybe we were in different classes...I suffered an injury in middle school, I admit I don't remember much of that time."

Anthy stared at her in silence for a moment, her expression unchanging. Utena guessed she may be lost in thought, trying to recall something. But when she finally spoke, it was just a question, in a perfectly calm, although a bit deeper voice:

"Are you a forgetful person, Utena?"

This startled her.

"Uh...."

She didn't have a clue what to say to that. But she had a gnawing feeling that it was important, somehow.

".....Anyway" said Anthy, suddenly cheerful again, as if the previous interaction hadn't taken place. "Would you like some cookies as well? I just baked them yesterday."

"Sure..."

Utena followed Anthy with her eyes for a bit, puzzled, as the girl pulled out the cookies from one of the cabinets.

"She's avoiding the subject" she thought. "I guess I shouldn't be pushy, if she doesn't want to talk about it..."

She sighed and looked through the window. The moon was shining unusually brightly, the night sky was unclouded and full of stars. She noticed that the apartment had a balcony, and on it, through the glass, she saw....

"Are those roses?" asked Utena, standing up suddenly, something pulling her towards the balcony doors. She opened them and stepped outside, feeling the refreshing, chilly air against her skin. The balcony was, indeed, packed with pots and pots of beautiful, pink roses, which barely left any room for a person to stand comfortably.

"So this is where the floral smell comes from..."

As she was standing there, in awe of the sight before her, she heard Anthy step outside too and close the door.

"Are all of them yours?" asked Utena, smiling wide, genuinely impressed. "They probably need a lot of care... You must really love roses, huh?"

Anthy returned the smile, but there was something pained in her voice when she responded with a short, quiet:

"...Yes."

Looking into the girl's eyes, under the starry sky, she couldn't shake off the feeling that there's something she should say, something she should do, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure out what. Her throat tightened, some weird, intense feeling was building up inside of her, under her skin, she couldn't stand it-

"We should probably get back inside, it's getting cold" she turned around quickly, too quickly, and stumbled on one of the pots.

In a split second, Anthy lunged forward and caught her by the waist, her other hand gripping Utena's, bringing them close.

In that moment, a wave of memories washed over her, and she remembered everything. The academy. The crushing weight of the swords. The struggles they had faced together, the fights she had fought for her, the illusions, the cruel, cruel lies... All the suffering and the horror...And through all of that, Anthy's hand in hers, time and time again. The love.

"Someday, together..."

Overwhelmed, she felt her eyes fill up with tears. Upon seeing this, Anthy's face softened in understanding. She let out half a chuckle, half a sob.

"Utena" she said, her voice trembling with emotion, but so, so loving. "At last...we meet."

"You escaped. You got out of there."

"I wanted to find you."

Utena couldn't bring herself to say anything else, there was no need to. No words could ever describe what had happened between them, the feelings they had for each other. Instead, she intertwined their fingers together, and the act of it felt like putting together two halfes of a broken heart.

A loud, unpleasant whistling sound filled the air.

Anthy let out a small breath and smiled in amusement, lowering her gaze.

"The tea..."

There they were, sitting at a table again, with two cups, a plate of cookies, and ChuChu sleeping peacefully beside them. Anthy took both of Utena's hands in hers, and squeezed them gently. Right now, neither of them felt like drinking. No words were spoken that night. Just tears of pure joy spilled, and knowing, tender smiles exchanged. It wasn't a happy ending, it was hardly an ending at all. The next day, there were other hardships for them to face. But in that moment, none of that mattered, because these two girls found each other, and at last - were free. Finally, together, shining brighter than the stars in the sky.

[torchickentacos]

How do you think May and Drew would’ve gotten together?

OOH OKAY so, first off, same answer I have for another ask somewhere in my queue- which is, I'm not someone who usually latches onto one version or fanon. I like to mix and match and mingle between interpretations rather than setting up my own concrete one, honestly. I have no taylor-canon-contestshipping agenda, I just go with whatever's the most entertaining to me and my friends at any given point in time.

That said, I feel like the Johto Arc THAT WE DIDN'T GET TO SEE could have kickstarted it. Like, in the Johto arc, they may or may not have traveled together as a group (unconfirmed) but at least they'd have ran into each other multiple times (confirmed, May says that her rivals are kicking her ass in Johto during the Wallace cup cameo). And by that point, they're on friendly terms (see: Unbeatable Lightness of Seeing as their last real canon marker of where they are friendship wise). Headcanony territory below, rambling as I do. Long post, which is to be expected when someone enables my contestshipping LMAO.

In Johto (rip the abandoned Johto fic I had like 1.5 years ago and all the other fics that don't make it out of google docs), I like to think it was May, Drew, Harley, and Solidad travelling together for at least certain stretches of the journey. I can see SO MANY SHENANIGANS that could lead to bonding and furthering that friendship into more of a foundation for something more. Strolling the Goldenrod National Park and talking after one of them had a bad loss (canonically, probably May), meanwhile Harley is off trying to be a guest on Goldenrod Radio or something with Solidad in tow. Or, May making an ill-informed decision to poke around Burned Tower and having her leg fall through one of the rotting floorboards, only to find a hand IMMEDIATELY reaching out to catch her. ALSO, BUG CATCHING CONTEST! Wait, lmao, imagine Drew in the Pokeathlon.. it's giving 'May wanted to do it and needed teammates but Drew is basically taking the approach of walking the mile in PE but he's doing the best he can and hating every second of it' tbh. You cannot convince me he's a sports guy. ANYWAYS little things like that are what I tend to gravitate towards- little misadventures that come together to solidify that trust and friendship, via situations and circumstances that were entirely avoidable but not at all regretted. A very 'Who What When Where Wynaut' approach, honestly- toss them into a situation and watch something bloom out of it.

So, Johto happens, shenanigans ensue, the rivalry turns far closer to pure friendship. I'd say the rivalry really leans into that shift from 'I want to be better than this person, I can't lose to them' towards 'I want to do better because of this person, not to spite them'. It becomes a partnership.

But technically I haven't even answered your question yet. I think this carries on for a few years, rivalry and friendship and whatever else sort of intermingling into its own form of relationship. They aren't rivals or friends or lovers, just... May and Drew. Like a combination move- it's no single thing, it's a conglomeration of emotions that come together into its own thing. I think they're two people who fall into something very naturally and without 'making it official' per se, just a gradual tumble into friendship-and-then-some over time until one day they sort of realize they've been functionally a couple for months on end and didn't notice. I like to think it's the kind of thing where they say they're dating and people would be like...a "wait, we thought you guys just had your two-year anniversary" type deal LMAO. I think this tends to be a pretty popular opinion/interpretation, too. Because here's the thing.

Drew would make a move. We see him do it every other episode he's in. May does not pick up on it or really explore her own emotions like he seems to. I think even if she did find herself on that same page, it would go like:

Drew: Well, I've been doing the rose shtick for years and nothing's happened, so I should respect that boundary and make sure to not push it anymore.

May (assuming she figures herself out here): I value this friendship and don't want to risk it, and I'm probably misreading him.

Like, I can SO EASILY see them falling to a standstill on actually making it REAL, so I think it's something they just fall into quietly until some external force makes that push for them. (forced proximity trope, in vino veritas trope in a timeskip, something like that).