#* answered

[canisalbus]

I was showing a friend some of your art bc she's a biiiig ole furry (and she showed one of HER friends which is cool) I was trying to show her those drawings of Machete dying his fur black in his Rebellious Phase, but tumblr search is utterly useless. Does anyone have the link to them? 👀 Supplimenting my request with boundless positivity for your art. God I love those two.

This one? (original post)

[exilethegame]

If the ROs had to tell the MC a lie in order for the MC to stay with them or tell the truth and have the MC leave them, what would they do?

Oooh. It would depend a bit on what it is they're lying about, but in general...

Tell the truth: Syfyn, Amilia, Jost, Nikke (but nikke would proceed to grovel for the rest of his life in hope of MC coming back ngl)

Lie: Vethna, Freedom, Sabir...

[pseudophan]

The idea of them not being together is so funny, every time I imagine it I can't stop laughing. We should just call them coworkers from now on fr

the funniest part about the coworkers thing is if we keep it up it WILL start getting to them. dnp can roll their eyes at our romanticisation of their relationship all they want but they lowkey love that we think they invented love or whatever. most couples are fucking annoying right, everyone thinks their relationship is theee cutest most important never before seen romance of all time and usually everyone else will disagree except dan and phil who've got thousands of people on the internet nodding along like mhm yes so true couple of all time nobody does it like you

you just know they would be lowkey sooo offended if instead of all that we're suddenly like oh dan and phil? don't they work together or something, wonder if they're friends outside of the business probably not

[tkwrites]

Can I Come See You? - Quinn Hughes x OFC

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Can I Come See You?

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: After a rough game, Quinn seeks out comfort from Sarah. 

Warnings: some suggestive themes, swearing, other than that, it’s 98% fluff.

Word count: 4,600

Comments: I know I’ve been teasing the family reunion snapshot for a while now, but with all the heavy emotions September brings, I just haven’t been able to finish it. When this ask came in, I started writing right away, wanting some comfort myself. I’ve loved revisiting the beginning of Quinn & Sarah’s relationship while writing this Snapshot. 

Thank you, thank you, and thank you gain for your support and love! I have found such a lovely community here, and I’m so thankful. Even in this radio silence while I’ve been slogging through my grief, everyone has been so kind and supportive.  

If you enjoyed this Snapshot, please consider commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask about it. I love seeing what you think of Quinn & Sarah’s latest adventures.

Anonymous asked: Quinn gives cuddler energy 1000000% After a game, especially when they played bad and lost/gave up a lead. Immediately wanting Sarah cuddles to make him feel better. Do you think he ever went to hers after a game, giving Eunice a heart attack in the early days. Or did they mostly hang at his?

Can I come see you? 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

If it wasn’t a Friday night, he wouldn’t have even asked. But it was, and he knew Sarah didn’t have to be up early the next day. And they’d lost. Epically. 

Midway through the third, they’d given up a three goal lead. On a power play no less. He’d, thankfully, only been on the ice for one. He didn’t know what he’d do if he’d given up more than one short handed goal in a two-minute span.

There was another game the next day, the third in four days, and he knew he really should go home and go to sleep. But Toch had canceled practice the next morning, and he was upset and feeling restless and just wanted to see her. 

It had been a long time since he’d felt this longing to be with someone and actually had someone he could go to. He called his parents, but there was still a gap there, telling him something was still missing. He wanted a more physical kind of comfort.

It was a miserable night, and Quinn thought seeing Sarah might make him feel a little better. He’d never asked her something like this. Hoping she wouldn’t mind, he fired off a text.

Sarah was in her room after the game – after an awful game – when Quinn texted. 

Can I come see you? 

Her heart leapt into her throat.

Quinn had never sent a text like this before, and she wasn't totally sure what it meant.  

He wouldn't come here to initiate comfort sex, right? That would be crazy. Her roommates were home. 

Maybe he just wanted…she had no idea what he wanted, but he'd respected every boundary she'd thrown at him so far, so she responded. Sure. Let me know when you’re here, and I’ll come let you in. 

Though they hadn’t slept together yet, she was thinking about it a lot, and they'd made out. She'd even let him take off her bra a few days before. Just thinking about that night — the reverent way he'd touched her, like she was a priceless piece of art, and the croaked, pleasured noise he’d groaned into her neck when their dry humping culminated in him coming in his pants — still made her thoughts buzz.

He asked for her address. 

She’d forgotten he’d never been to her apartment before. Not inside, at least. He’d dropped her off several times, but it was always at the end of a date, and at least one of her roommates was usually home, so it’s not like she would invite him up. Also, it seemed silly to go from his lovely penthouse to inviting him up to her little apartment. If they were going to do anything, it wouldn’t be here. 

My roommates are home, just so you know, she sent, not wanting to set unrealistic expectations. 

He reacted with a thumbs up. 

Normally, she would warn them she was having someone over, but telling Eunice Quinn was coming over would only give her more time to wind herself up. So Sarah stayed in her room until he texted that he was downstairs and slipped by her roommates without giving an explanation. 

When she opened the large glass door to her building, he was standing off to the side, hands shoved in his pockets and his head hanging forward, as if it were just a little too heavy to hold up. 

“Hey,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

He still jumped a little, but when he met her eyes, he smiled — genuinely — as if he was just glad to see her. 

Her heart fluttered.

“Come on in.” Taking his hand, she pulled him into the elevator, which was, thankfully, still on the ground floor. They only went up five levels before she got off and led him down the hall, and scanned through door 538. 

Her roommates were on the couch watching an episode of Friends. 

They looked over, and one of them yelped before slapping her hand over her mouth. She continued to make muffled noise, her wide eyes darting between Quinn and Sarah. 

“This is Quinn,” Sarah introduced, though it felt perfunctory. They both knew who he was. “And this is Eunice,” she said, gesturing to her, “she’s a big fan and a little bit excitable.” 

Quinn recognized her. She was the one who screamed when he’d knocked on the glass at Sarah’s first game. Her brown hair, which was more frizz than curl, was pushed back with a headband. She was still wearing a jersey – Petey’s, thankfully – from watching the game. 

“And this is Jane.” 

She was tall and willowy, with pale eyes and a thick, dark blonde braid. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jane said, standing up and offering her hand to shake.

Quinn grasped it, managing to pull a smile onto one half of his mouth. 

Eunice stood and followed suit, though he got the distinct impression that were they anywhere else with anyone else, she would be asking for a hug. “I can’t believe you’re in our house right now.” Her voice actually squeaked when she said it. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, not quite managing to pull full sincerity into his voice. Though he did feel it, he was too tired and too miserable to mask the disappointment. 

Eunice finally seemed to get over the shock of Quinn Hughes being in her living room. Leaning her butt on the armrest of the couch, she said, “tough break tonight.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. 

“Here, we can go in my room.” 

When Sarah’s hand slipped into his, his heart did an embarrassing little flutter. Hoping it didn’t show on his face, he followed her down the hall. 

He'd forgotten what it was like to move into a blank slate of an apartment. All the places he'd rented since moving to Vancouver were furnished, including curated, so-neutral-it-wasn’t-interesting artwork. Sarah’s apartment looked like a home - framed photos and unique paintings on the walls. 

Her room was simple. There was a full bed tucked under the window that overlooked the street and a desk. There wasn’t room for much else. A quark board above her desk was filled with photos of who he assumed was her family. Half a dozen babies with her same bright blue eyes or chocolate colored hair. He noticed the warm up puck he'd given her sitting on her desk, bracing the pages of a textbook open to an anatomical drawing of a seahorse. 

She sat on the bed. It was either the bed or her office chair, and they couldn't both fit on the chair.  

“What's up?” she asked after a minute or so of him looking around her room, his hands in his pockets. He was in his suit, a rain jacket over it against the wet, misty night, and had a knit hat pulled over his hair.

His eyes snapped to her. Something about seeing her in leggings and a loose t shirt, sitting on her blue and green patchwork quilt, made him ache. Longing bloomed in him to see her this comfortable somewhere where they could be together. Not together like this; together permanently. The thought stuck in his mind. Had he ever felt that way about someone before?

“I just wanted to see you,” he admitted, shoulders dropping.

“Oh.” The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise. The fact that he wanted to see her on a hard night sent a giddy, effervescent shiver through her. 

She patted the mattress, and relieved, he sunk down next to her. 

Sarah pulled his rain jacket off, throwing it over her office chair before asking, “this too?” as her fingers tucked under the collar of his suit coat. 

Usually, he would have shrugged it off as soon as he'd pulled away from the arena, but he'd been driving in the general direction of Yaletown, breathlessly waiting for Sarah’s reply.  

Nodding, he pushed his shoulders back so she could pull it off. 

She folded it much more deliberately than he usually did, matching the shoulders and making sure the arms were flat before draping it over his jacket. 

“You okay?” she asked, her hand traveling up and down his back. 

Her gentle touch and the sound of her voice sent a pang of relief through him. 

Experiencing Sarah sharing her emotions with him so openly somehow made it easier to reciprocate and trust she wasn't going to dismiss his or throw them back in his face later. 

He shook his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don't even want to think about it,” he said, leaning forward and raking his fingers into his hair.

Not quite sure what he meant, her hand paused on it’s journey smoothing over the soft material of his dress shirt. 

“Can we…” he glanced over at her. In the light from her desk lamp, his eyes were the color of cognac. “Can we lay down?”

Her lips pursed. It wasn’t that they hadn’t cuddled before. They had, but she still wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he wanted. 

“I just want to hold you,” he finally admitted. The vulnerability of saying it out loud knotted his stomach.

Her heart did a giddy little dance in her chest, and she barely held herself back from asking, really?  

“Sure,” she said instead, although it still came out a little breathy. “You've gotta take off your shoes, though.” 

As he toed off the sneakers, she scooted back, so she was laying nearest the window. 

He lay next to her. They stayed that way, side by side for a minute before Sarah asked, “how do you...?”

Extending his arm, he patted his side, inviting her to snuggle into him. She accepted readily, pressing her body to his. Really, he wanted her to hold him, but he felt a little too vulnerable to ask for that. 

A deep sigh let go as her hand rested on his chest. It had taken more than six months for him to feel this comfortable with June, for him to even think about asking her for comfort.  It was amazing to him that things with Sarah were so much easier. 

“What do you need?” she asked, tracing one of his buttons. 

Emotion threatened to choke his reply. Taking a moment to swallow it down, he tried to remember the last time someone had asked him that not related to improving his on-ice performance. Nothing immediately came to mind.

“Can you just talk?”

“About what?”

“Anything. Tell me about your roommates.”

“Well, Jane is a pediatric nurse. She works in the BC Children’s ER.” 

He let out a low whistle. 

“Yeah. It’s a rough gig sometimes, but she really loves it. She's actually headed to work in a few hours.”

He glanced at his watch, “at midnight?” 

“She works a lot of graveyards. 3 to 3 or midnight to noon. She coaches a youth lacrosse league on the weekends.”

“Really?” He felt Sarah nod. “My mom played lacrosse. She put all of us in it, too.” 

“Did you like it?” 

He shrugged, “I like hockey better.”

“Good thing you stuck with it, then.”

A breath of a laugh escaped through his nose.

“And Eunice is studying biomedical engineering. She’s on track to get her PhD.”

“Really?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “She just seems so…I mean, excitable like you said.”

“Oh, she's just dedicated to everything she does. She has a 4.0. I think it'd actually be higher if the scale didn't stop there. She does everything like that, you know? Doesn’t matter if it’s school or being a fan. She’s always 110% in. I don’t think she knows how to do anything halfway.” 

He hmm’d.

Falling into a companionable silence, Quinn sighed. He’d been looking for this his kind of comfort with another person his entire life. The first time he’d really felt it was on their first date, and it was a revelation. Each time it happened since then, it became a little less awkward. They might well be on their way to sharing the kind of quiet moments he used to see his parents have. Sitting together on the couch reading, or folding laundry together, or watching TV, just happy to be with each other. The idea of it made his chest feel buoyant enough to float away.

“How did you meet them?” 

“Eunice was advertising for someone new to move in on the school housing board. Their old roommate, Jenny, was getting married. So, I met them and saw the place, and it just worked out.” 

“Just like that?” 

“I guess?”

“I’ve never done that before.”

“What?” 

“Interviewed to be a roommate. I’ve always lived with teammates.”

“Not all of us have a built-in best friend squad.”

He snorted, and Sarah smiled. 

They eased into another quiet moment, and Quinn felt his eyelids grow heavy.

“Do you need anything?” she asked. 

“Hmm?” 

“Like, do you need anything to eat?” 

“I ate at the arena,” he said, “but I wouldn't mind something to drink.” 

As she pushed herself up and he resisted the urge to pull her back down. “What do you want? I have water, cranberry juice, or Ginger ale. I have some rum if you need something stronger, or I could make you some tea.” 

“I can't have caffeine this late. It’ll fuck up my sleep schedule.” Truth be told, it was probably already fucked just by him being here, but he didn’t want to inflict any more damage. 

She smiled, “I have peppermint, or a caffeine free maple that's really tasty as a latte.” 

“That sounds nice.”

“Okay. Do you want milk or almond milk?” 

“Almond, please.” 

“You got it.” As she crawled over him to get to the edge of the bed, she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

His mouth was still buzzing when she left the room. 

Eunice came into the kitchen as Sarah was filling the kettle. “What are you doing?” she whispered as if Quinn might hear them from down the hall. 

“Making tea,” Sarah said in her normal tone. 

She could tell Eunice wanted to start interrogating her and pointedly looked the other way. She’d be happy to talk, but not while he was still here. Getting Eunice started on a conversation like that required a certain amount of commitment, and Sarah wasn’t willing to rehash the night until it was over.

She stayed in the kitchen, watching Sarah start the kettle on the stove and pour milk into the frother. 

“I can bring this to you when it’s done.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yeah. Go be with Quinn. He looked like he needed some time with you. I’ll be in in a few.” 

“Okay.” 

As she walked back down the hall, she heard Eunice mutter something about getting Quinn to play better tomorrow.

Sarah winced, wondering if he was ever allowed to be human before being an athlete. 

Quinn looked up from his phone when Sarah came back in the room empty-handed. “No tea?” he asked, hoping his tone came off teasing. It was surprising to him she could start something and not finish it. 

Leaving the door cracked open, she got back on the bed and crawled over him, “Eunice offered to bring it in. It takes our stove ages to boil water.” 

He pulled her into him as soon as she got to his other side. As she bounced against him, she giggled, and it dissipated some of the angsty weight he’d been carrying around since the game ended. 

She snuggled up to him again, working her left arm under his back. He arched until her hand brushed his ribs.

“That’s okay?” he asked, settling back down. 

“Yeah.”

Though half of it was tied up, he threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, then ran them through the soft strands. She made a contented little noise, so he did it again, just glad to be touching her. 

“Thank you for this,” he said, voice quiet. 

“For what?” 

“For letting me come over. For,” he moved so he could wrap his arm around her, squeezing her a little bit closer. 

“Hey, if cuddling makes you feel better, I’m always down,” she said, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder. This kind of casual affection was what she missed most every time she broke up with all of her exes. Not to mention, she got so little physical touch being away from her family.

He chuckled, and it ended in a sigh. 

His free hand found hers, and he slotted their fingers together. 

“I really like you, Sarah.” 

“I really like you, too, Quinn,” she said, tipping her head back so she could see his face. From this angle, his nose was more pronounced. She had to resist the urge to pull her hand from his so she could run her finger down the ridge of it to feel the prominent bump. 

Sensing her stare, he turned his head, bringing their lips dangerously close. It only took a bit of stretching on Sarah’s part to bring them together. 

When he felt Sarah strain toward him again, he rolled onto his side to shorten the distance between them. Her hand stayed on his chest, and their kisses remained sweet, though the adjusted position allowed for a little more tongue, which he wasn’t mad about.

This was much softer than anything they'd done so far. It was nice to know they could just be here: not rushing to get undressed or into something more intense and physical. 

She loved this kind of lazy, slow kissing, but found it didn’t usually come until much later in a relationship, after all the first physical stuff was out of the way. To be kissing - making out without really making out - like this before they’d even had sex felt like a gift. Feeling his fingers run into her hair, bringing her face just that little bit closer to his Sarah sighed.

The way her chin moved in and out as they kissed, matching the rhythm of her tongue brushing his, lulled his body into a state of deeper relaxation than he’d felt all evening.

Pulling away just enough, she whispered, “you’re a really good kisser.” 

A zing of pleasure shivered through his brain and all the way down Quinn's spine.

 “Thanks,” he breathed, easing back to see her face. 

He gazed into her eyes for a few moments longer, trying to calm his thoughts. Once he was over the initial daze her compliment brought on, he realized he should probably say something else. Instead of blurting out the, I like being good for you, that popped into his mind, he said, “you make it easy to be.”

When she shyly thanked him as her cheeks pinked, he felt like he'd swallowed the sun. 

Unable to resist anymore, Sarah reached up to trace her finger down the bridge of his nose. “How did you break it?” 

“The first time, Jack punched me in the face in an intense game of mini sticks.”

“Mini sticks?”

“It’s like…” How did he explain this to someone who’d never played? “It’s like indoor, carpet hockey. You use these little plastic sticks and a ball, usually. We used to play in the basement. My mom talks about how we played so hard, we would shake the whole house.”

“That’s some serious competition if you’re getting your nose broken.” 

A breath of a laugh huffed out of him. “I deserved it. I was goading him on pretty bad, and he didn’t really know his own strength. I can still see the horror on his face when the blood started pouring.” 

She resumed stroking, her touch feather light and gentle, “how many times have you broken it?” 

“Three.” Quinn never thought he’d like someone touching him like this, but with Sarah, he found it comforting instead of irritating. It was like she just wanted to know every part of him. “The other two were pucks to the face.”

She winced. “That sounds painful. Those pucks are way heavier than I thought.” 

“It’s not fun,” he said. “Thankfully, the adrenaline is still pumping, so it doesn’t really hurt until after the game is over.” 

“You kept playing with a broken nose?” 

Nodding, he laughed, “they strap on a full face shield, and send you back out there.” 

An incredulous, protective look took over her face that Quinn instantly loved. 

“Don’t worry. They do concussion testing and reset it if it needs it before.” 

“That’s just…really?” 

He nodded.

“I keep seeing all these memes about how tough hockey players are, and I always thought they were kind of exaggerated.” 

“It’s a tough sport,” he said. “My goal is always to be swift enough on my feet to not get involved with the harsh stuff, but sometimes a puck just redirects, and bam, your nose is broken again.” 

The kettle whistled. 

As if by an unspoken rule, they pulled back from each other. Sarah’s hand dropped back to his chest. 

A minute later, Eunice gently hipped open Sarah's door, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and the whole milk frothing machine. “I figured it would be easier for you to froth in here,” she said, setting the tray down on Sarah's desk. 

As she backed out of the room, she widened her eyes and quirked her brows a few times, giving Sarah a look that plainly said, you have a cute, famous boy in your bed, and we're going to discuss everything as soon as he’s gone. 

“Thanks, Eunice,” Sarah said through a tight smile, hoping Quinn hadn’t seen. 

“Sure thing,” she said before softly clicking the door shut.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a tea latte,” Quinn said as he rolled onto his back so Sarah could crawl over him again. The urge to pull her on top of him by her hips was so strong that he had to curl his fingers into the quilt. 

“Really?” she asked, plugging the frother into the outlet by her nightstand. 

He shrugged. 

The machine whirred to life.

“It’s good. I like it at night. The warm milk kind of puts me to sleep.” 

When it was done, she divided the creamy concoction into the two mugs and brought one to Quinn. 

“This is okay?” he asked, gesturing to the bed. 

“Yeah.” There wasn’t anywhere else they could go. If he spilled tea on her sheets, she’d just have him help her change them. 

Sarah sat opposite him, knees bent, her bare feet between his socked ones. 

Their eyes met over their mugs, and Quinn smiled. “This is really good, thank you,” he said, gently tapping her leg with his toe. 

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you came over.” 

“Are you still up for the game tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m planning on it.”

“And you’ll stay so I can take you home?”

She nodded. “Are you flying out again after that?”

He sighed, “yeah. On Sunday. We fly out to Dallas, play them on Monday, and then go to Colorado to play on Wednesday, and then I’ll be home for a week on Thursday afternoon.”

“I’m glad it’s not too long this time.”

“Me too.” A yawn split his face. He apologized, holding a fist over his mouth.

Shaking her head, Sarah said, “you’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, downing the rest of the tea. “I should probably get home and get to sleep.”

While he pulled on his sneakers, Sarah set her latte aside and slipped on some sandals. 

Rain was pounding against the glass fronted lobby when they got downstairs. Looking down at herself, Sarah said, “I’d walk you to your car, but I’m not really dressed for it.”

Half of his mouth lifted in an indulgent smile, “that’s okay.” Gathering her against him, he breathed in the smokey smell of her perfume to fortify himself for the dash into the rain and the drive home. “Thank you again.”

Her hands slid under his suit coat, pulling him more tightly against her, “you’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, pulling back to look into his face. 

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss her. They were in public, so he knew he shouldn’t linger, but he did anyway, savoring her mouth as the last thing he’d taste that night. 

“Let me know when you get home, yeah?” she asked when they parted. 

He nodded, and she watched him jog away before heading back upstairs. 

Eunice was waiting in the entryway for her and immediately grabbed her hand. “Tell us everything,” she said, excitedly pulling Sarah down the hall to the bathroom where Jane was re-braiding her hair for work. 

Before she sat in the hallway outside the bathroom, Sarah got her unfinished tea. As she sipped, she explained how he ended up there. 

Both women awed when she recounted Quinn telling her he just wanted to hold her. Eunice broke in when Sarah got to the part about making tea.

“Jane, it was so cute. I walked by, and they’re cuddling. Then, when I came back, they were kissing. Like that soft movie kind of kissing - it looked so dreamy. Then when I walked by again –” 

“Why were you walking by so much?” Sarah demanded. 

Eunice didn't even blush, “I had to get my blanket.”

“And it took you two trips to do it?” 

“I forgot what I was getting the first time and had to come back to the living room to remember.” 

“Right,” Sarah deadpanned. 

“Anyway,” she said in an over-exaggerated tone, “when I walked by again, she was petting his nose.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah exclaimed, “I am never bringing him over here again. He’s going to think you’re some kind of psychopathic stocker for walking by all the time.”

“Oh, he had no idea I was even there,” Eunice said. “He was way too busy longingly gazing at you, Ms. Roberts. I don’t think he would have even noticed me if I was stomping down the hall like a t-rex.”

“He was pretty enraptured,” Jane said. 

“You too?” 

“I had to go to the bathroom. Mine was legitimate.”

“Oh my fucking hell,” Sarah moaned. 

“Why were you touching his nose?” 

“I asked him how he broke it.” Sarah smiled at the floor. “And I like his nose.”

Eunice snorted, “of course you do.” 

Cutting off Sarah’s incredulous look, Jane asked, “what was the best part?”

All of it, she wanted to say. The fact that he came over at all. That he just wanted to cuddle, the kissing… 

“He was really sweet. I told him he was a good kisser and he just looked into my eyes for a while before he goes, ‘you make it easy to be.’” 

“Oh my gosh,” Jane gushed, “really? That is such a good answer.”

“Will you just fuck him already?” 

Sarah let out a surprised cough, and Eunice continued, “I think he’s proven he’s not just in it for the sex.”

“I think I knew that from the start.”

“So why are you waiting so long to jump him?” 

“Eunice,” Jane admonished, “Sarah can take however long she likes to take that step.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eunice said dismissively, flapping her hands, “I just want to know what he’s like in bed.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah said, dropping her head into her hands. “I am never discussing my sex life with you.”

“Yes you will.” 

“No. I won't.” 

“You will,” Eunice said with a quirk of her brows. “You've told us everything else so far. I don't think you'll be able to resist.”

“You’re unhinged, you know that?” 

“That’s why you love me.”

Laughing, Sarah had to admit she was right.  

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[barcaatthemoon]

“i’d like u to spend the week with me” , lucy bronze :)

communicative || lucy bronze x reader ||

Getting back together with Lucy was weird. It had been almost 15 year since you had broken up. Both of you had been through a lot since then and had many opportunities to become different people. And in some ways, you were both completely different, but some things never changed. It seemed like there were some habits neither of you could shake, and for Lucy, the one that stuck out the most was how pouty she tended to get.

"Stop looking at me like that," you said as you glanced at Lucy's reflection. You were getting ready for your first little interview since you'd announced as the head coach for England's rugby team.

"Like what? I'm not doing anything, that's just my face," Lucy huffed. You turned around to fully face her, knowing that wasn't the case. Lucy was pouting at you, just like she had been since you told her that you were going back to your place at the end of today.

"No, you're pouting because you want something that you're too proud to admit. I won't play this guessing game anymore, just say what you want from me," you told her. Lucy glanced down for a moment, almost like she was embarrassed. "Come on, we both have to communicate, and now it's your turn."

"I don't want you to leave. It's like you just got here, and so much of your time has been taken up by everybody else. I'd like you to spend the week with me, that's all." Lucy bit her lip as she waited for your reaction. The first time around, Lucy had been terrified of being clingy with you, so she pushed you away. You were secure enough in yourself now that she couldn't do that, not when it had factored so heavily into your breakup before.

"I still have to run home and grab some clothes, but I'll come back. Better yet, you can take me tomorrow after your practice is over. See how easy it is to get your way when you don't act like a little baby?" you asked teasingly. Lucy scoffed and sat up to tug you into bed with her. She was about to try and make out with you, but you reluctantly stopped her. "I'm not redoing my makeup, nor do I trust you to fix what you fuck up."

"Fine, but I want kisses when you're done."

[patrothestupid]

Since you are a small cold blooded reptile, I must assing you a big furry man to keep you warm at night.

eheh I'm gonna make so much jealous ! starting with myself

[simplydnp]

can you plz explain the iceland theory and how it originated

i'll do my best! (and @goldenpinof might have to fill in some blanks for me)

the driving theory is iceland wedding (which, all of our best theories are wedding theories aren't they)

the last show for WAD was supposed to be in iceland, and pj, sophie, and phil were all supposed to be there. they were also planning on spending some time there after the show 'exploring'.

dan was very, very disappointed about the cancelation of that show in particular. based off of his communication at the time, it 1 didn't seem like his idea to cancel it, and 2 came across like he found out when we did.

being that the plan was to be the 4 of them, and that dan vowed he would be there some day... it just seemed Very important.

[clonecaptains]

Tyler or Jake introducing you to friends/coworkers as his wife without realizing it even though you aren't married (not even engaged), thoughts?

omg anon this has been in my inbox for a hot minute and ive just bene letting it sit. i love this idea! esp because both of them have a big group of friends that's part of their stories. with the wranglers and the dagger squad there's a lot of different interactions to talk about!

i wrote a couple tiny lil things! thanks for the ask!

tyler

It’s your first time meeting the Wranglers, and you think Tyler might be more nervous than you are. It’s a nice night, and everyone is gathered for a little cook-out. You show up a little late, your dessert took longer than you anticipated to make.

When you arrive at the door, Tyler is quick to answer it to let you in. He gives you a kiss on your temple then on your lips as he takes the dessert from you to put on the kitchen counter.

His hand on your lower back, he guides you outside to greet everyone.

“Y’all, here she is,” Tyler pulls you closer to him. “I’d like you to meet my wife,” and he tells them your name, proudly kissing you on the top of your head.

“Wife?”

“Is that what I said?” Tyler’s cheeks turn pink while the wranglers make a collective “ooOoOooOoOOo” noise to tease him.

He gives you an apologetic look and another kiss for added measure.

“If you’d have me,” he whispers in your ear later. “I’d love if you were my wife.”

___________________

jake

You’re going with Jake to an event, your hand on his arm. He’s happy you’re with him – proud to show off his girl, especially at this swanky event. It’ll be the first time a lot of his fellow pilots will meet you, and he’s got a little more pep in his step than usual.

It makes you smile to see him so excited to introduce you to his friends and coworkers.

You’re in a small cluster of pilots and their dates introducing their dates to each other.

When it comes to Jake’s turn, he calls you his wife. Your eyes widen, and he doesn’t realize what he’s said.

“Wife?” Your face warms when one of the other pilots speaks up. “Damn did you get married and not tell us?”

Jake grins his typical cheeky grin, “no, slip of the tongue. She’s my girlfriend. Does sound like me to whisk you away and marry you though, doesn’t it?” he pulls you closer to him, his hand on your hip.  

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

OH MY GOD YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S BEEN GIVING FORD F CUPS

[emmcfrxst]

Old Man Logan fawning over reader and Laura jamming out to songs on the radio whenever they go on road trips <33

much to his chagrin, little laura loves pop music; the bubblier, the better. he tries (and fails) to make her like classic rock— she’s “not interested in old man music”, she wants fun songs she can dance to with you. she giggles uncontrollably whenever you sing badly on purpose, clapping for you excitedly. logan always complains about her choice of music, being the grumpy dad he is, but you’ve caught him more than once mouthing along to the lyrics and more recently; shaking his butt slightly to it while in the kitchen— although he will deny the last part until the day he dies (which isn’t anytime soon because you live on a little farm where you grow your own food, free of the additives that are meant to weaken mutations. ever since you’ve started being self sufficient, you’ve noticed that logan heals much faster, and that his pain seems lessened a little. you only ever buy store products if one of you is having a craving; otherwise you make do with what you grow, purging your bodies of the chemicals that render you sick <3)

[wdapteo]

literally where the fuck are those fucking LISTS

I fear it's already over bc I don't think there has ever been a 3 hour delay before. So yeah I'm mad as fuck I cannot believe fandom chose TODAY to fuck us over

[canisalbus]

Is Machete a Silken Windhound?

Silken windhounds are a recent breed, they were developed in the 1980's in Texas, they wouldn't exist in 16th century Italy (but then again, random somewhat similar looking dogs could). Machete's breed is fictional (and he isn't purebred to begin with, distict breeds aren't really a thing in their universe), but I tend to think that the closest real life equivalent would be Ibizan hound.

[harmonia-university]

(@askabbyandeva) Anna (to Courbon): So question: did you have a particular reason you became a Sylveon? or was it an accident like I hear a surprising amount Sylveon say it is (seriously, you won't believe how many of them told me specifically "I actually wanted to be an Espeon/Umbreon but I forgot I still knew Baby-Doll Eyes" over the years)

I have always wanted to be a Sylveon. My parents were both Sylveon, they gave me a choice and I didn't see much point in deviating from the same path.

I remember deliberately practicing the move every night so I wouldn’t forget. It also isn’t unsual for Eevees to not end up becoming a Sylveon…especially if they haven’t used their fairy type move of choice in a while.

[ @askabbyandeva ]

[pseudophan]

are you falling out of love for dan and phil? you haven't touched tumblr in a while..

girl i was asleep

[skibasyndrome]

Wilmon + "please I need you inside me"

cw: this is... definitely nsfw, a lil bit angsty... messy exes reunited at a party?

ALSO: the word count on this bad boy got... completely out of hand

"Please, I need you inside me." Simon's whispered confession hits Wille like a freight train. It's not what he expected him to say, not after everything, not after all this time, not after what he said last time. Not as his first full sentence towards Wille, after an awkward "hey" in front of Felice and Sara who are the only reason they even came to Maddie's party in the first place. Not after asking if Wille "has a minute" one and a half hours later.

It's all wrong and Wille is confused, so fucking confused and a little bit too tipsy to really connect the dots (have there been hints all evening? have there been signs he misread?). Instead of asking any of the millions of questions floating around his mind (Why do you want me now? Did you change your mind? What happened to the new guy? Why here?) he just stutters, unsure what to say, unsure what to do about the goosebumps mottling the skin of his neck, even moments after Simon has already pulled away again. "Simon, I don't..." (Why didn't you text? Why didn't you call?) Simon's expression twists painfully and Wille knows, oh god he knows what this sounds like and he needs to fix this. "I...," and the words still don't make their way out, so he reaches out, fingers grazing the inside of Simon's wrist, so soft and so smooth and so reminiscent of the times this was what they did. (Why did you push me away when this is what you want?) "We can't," Wille tries instead, desperate, breathless, feels his chest contract angrily, feels his resolve crumble with every passing second that he's skin to skin with Simon. Fingertips on the wrist are enough to set his skin on fire. Enough to bring him back to two years ago. (Why didn't you want me to fight harder?) "Is it because you don't want to?" Simon asks, voice gentle and careful and so painfully small - Wille hates when Simon feels like he needs to make his voice smaller - that the pang goes right to Wille's heart. (Why would you ever think I don't want you?) He shakes his head fervently, like he can shake off the hurt and the confusion and the incessantly rising heat of want that crawls up the inside of his throat. "No. God, no," he tries, feels and hears his voice break on the first no. (Did I not prove to you that you're all I ever want?) Simon's eyes meet his again, finally. Glistening even in the dim light of this hallway, and Wille wishes he could read him better, wishes there weren't two years of distance lodged in between them. Simon moves his arm and just as Wille is about to gasp at the prospect of losing him again he feels Simon's grip on his upper arm instead, firm and warm even through the thin fabric of his shirt. The breath gets stuck somewhere deep inside of Wille's rib cage. He doesn't dare make a single move while Simon tugs on his arm, places it around himself, takes another step towards Simon. (Why did I ever let you go?) The look in Simon's eyes is dangerous, is gnawing away at every bit of distance, at every wall that Wille has desperately tried to build up over these past years. Simon squeezes Wille's bicep, signaling him he can touch him back and- Fuck. And Wille does. Wille's hand still perfectly fits on top of Simon's hipbone. "If you still in any way want me..." (What the fuck did I do to make you think there'd ever be an 'if'?) "if this is still," and Simon is standing so close to him now that Wille thinks he must be feeling him. Must be feeling that Wille, despite himself and all that work he put into getting over Simon, very much fucking wants him. Now, always, probably for fucking ever. "If this is something you might want..." Simon presses against him now, hips against hips, and Wille wants to moan and cry and wrap him tightly in his arms because he can feel Simon again, too, here, close. Simon leans forward, lips moving towards Wille's ear. "Let me have this, Wille. If you still want this, let me have you."

Wille's moan is barely stifled when he feels the subtle movement of Simon against him, of Simon pressing into him, onto him, of Simon searching for contact and friction and more of Wille. "Not here," Wille tries, but he's already losing the battle and grinding his erection against Simon's, that quietly flickering flame he never quite managed to put out now stoked into a raging fire. "We don't have- and we're just-" And while he stammers away, while he digs his fingertips into Simon's side and relishes in the heady feeling of having him here again, he feels Simon slip something into his palm, a small bottle, familiar enough to make Wille's mind spin. (How did you-?) "I knew you'd be here," Simon confesses, unprompted. "I knew I'd see you." His lips leave burns in their wake as they brush down the side of Wille's jaw. Wille barely has control over his own hands, just barely registers that must be pulling Simon closer. And it seems like this breaks a dam inside of Simon. "Been thinking about you," he gasps out and Wille can feel his hands under his shirt now, digging nails into Wille's skin that remembers. "Been missing you," Simon admits, much more quietly, but before Wille has any chance - But why did you-? - Simon pushes on. "Missed feeling you... missed having you like this." And god, god, Wille is a broken man. He's never had a sense for when to stop, when to turn away from Simon before things become detrimental, and he's not about to now start acting like he has any control over his feelings towards this man. This man that ruined Wille for everyone forever. So of course Wille finds himself perched behind Simon in one of the seemingly countless storage rooms in Maddie's house, of course he's got Simon holding on to a shelf in front of him, with his pants bunched up around his knees, and of course he's back to opening Simon up for him, nice and slow and grabbing one of his ass cheeks, holding him open for a better view while he does it, because simply feeling him is not enough right now. Of course Simon is back to letting out those sounds that Wille has never stood a chance against, quiet hiccup-y moans that he draws out for a moment longer whenever Wille pulls out and gently eases his fingers back in, teasing. Simon feels just like Wille remembers, he moves just like Wille remembers, he lets out that same broken sound when Wille drops to his knees and asks if he can, please, if Simon is okay with it. He arches his back and pushes back against Wille's mouth, moans at every flick of his tongue, just like he's always done. The filthy string of profanities and desperate pleas falling from his mouth is just as enticing and encouraging as it's always been. The way Wille needs to hold Simon's hips in place, thumbs on his ass cheeks to help hold his open, the way Simon tastes, the way he grinds back and lets Wille fuck his tongue into him... It all hasn't changed one bit. Wille feels delirious, feels like he's stuck in one of those dreams that kept haunting him for weeks, months, after. He feels like he could risk waking up to his empty bed again if he pulls away to catch his breath. It still feels like a dream when he lines himself up with Simon's back, when he presses closer, not pushing in, just feeling the heat of Simon's body through his shirt, just relishing in the slick, hot tightness of being between Simon's thighs. It's so much, so fucking much that Wille needs a moment, that he needs to prepare for what he's sure will ruin him, that he needs to wait before entering him again.

"Are you okay?" Simon asks, breathing heavily and grinding back desperately, and it's almost like it used to be, almost as sweet and caring and devastatingly gentle as they used to be. Almost, because there's an edge of fear, of worry, of uncertainty. Wille nods, pressing his forehead against the soft wispy hairs at the back of Simon's neck. He's so okay. He's so much more than okay, feels so much better than he has months and that alone is absolutely fucking breaking him apart. "So okay," Wille gasps out, pulling back slightly to line himself up. He ignores the slight tremor in his hands, that anticipatory shiver of pleasure that courses through him. "So fucking okay," he moans when he slowly pushes in, sinks against Simon, slips back into that old, familiar, breathtaking sensation of connection and closeness, of soft, warm bliss. And Simon does it, too, moans, throws his head back, angles himself so that Wille can slide home, can claim this feeling for the two of them, finally again. Simon's affirmative hum travels through Wille's chest like the heavy bass on the dance floor did earlier, Simon's sweetly assertive command for "more, Wille" pierces him like a knife. But he can, he absolutely wants to give Simon more. He pulls back slightly, only to thrust into him again, giving more and deeper and harder, making Simon's breathing stutter, making the shelf that's bearing more of less all the force groan under the impact. Every bit of desperation, every yearning thought Wille has tried to neatly file away breaks lose in him, every single time he dreamt of this imagined just one more chance at this hits him at once. By the time he pulls back, words of warning on his lips, mumbled apologies for being so gone so quickly, for not making this last any longer falling into the sweat-heavy air around them, his eyes are burning, his throat closing up. It can't be over already, not again, not now, not ever. Simon's arm shoots behind him, grabbing onto Wille's ass, pulling him closer again, urging him back inside to the hilt. Wille's hips stutter and he gasps out another pleading warning, sure that he's going to fall any minute now, but Simon only digs his blunt fingernails into Wille's skin. "Stay," Simon presses out, so quietly that Wille barely hears it. But it's enough to make Wille press his eyes shut, go rigid against Simon's back. "Inside me, please," he adds, words so drawn out and voice so breathy that Wille can't help but moan in response. Simon needs him, is all Wille can think of when Simon grinds back against him, Simon needs to feel him again, he thinks, as he listens to Simon's staccato breaths and the sound of his slickened hand jerking himself off. It's all the way it used to be, it's like he was never gone, it's like they picked up where they left off, like it's them, together, against all odds again. It takes no more than a couple thrusts before Wille is coming, gasping into the sweaty hair in the back of Simon's neck, pressing closer, wrapping his arms tightly around Simon's chest and stomach, like that will keep him from ever leaving again. Wille is still panting, still shaking, when he feels Simon's come hit his arm, feels Simon go pliant in his arms. He doesn't ask why now, why after all this time, when Simon, hands still holding Wille against him, like he, too, is scared Wille will leave, pants out a quiet "thank you". Wille doesn't ask what this means, either. Doesn't ask what Simon now thinks of him, what Simon now wants to do. He doesn't, can't, get out a single question while he holds onto Simon and Simon holds onto him.

OOOF. I......... I guess that was the vibe when I sat down to write this today. Thank you so so much for sending in that prompt, dear anon! I hope you enjoyed it! 💜💜💜

Send me "Wilmon" + a sentence and I will write you 2k apparently another 5(+) sentences

[freeuselandonorris]

Wait wait I don’t have sky sports b/c America, what did Ted do???

he had a chat with lando and oscar after the team photo where oscar said his motivation for racing was seeing ted in the ice bath (which he apparently watched from his hotel room) and then ted asked if oscar liked his chest hair and said “you look like a relatively hairless man” to him while the atmosphere slowly got more and more awkward 😭 i hope someone clips it because it was truly bizarre