#bestie k and bestie s

[giggly-cloud]

੭୧ 𝆹 성 @ɠιɠɠʅყ-ƈʅσυԃ ʝυʂƚ ρσʂƚҽԃ ૮₍´｡ᵔ ꈊ ᵔ｡₎ა𓈒 ꒱ ㅤ

꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱˖࣪ ¡ Revising and noting down suppliers prices and checking orders gets kinda boring, does having a coffee make it a bit better? Yes ofc. But you know what would make it even better? If I had a very specific someone next to me who tickled me everytime I got distracted, complained about how tiring it can get or simply just because. Not only to make it more fun and have a good time but also to help me stay awake !

[stevebabey]

hiii ruby !!! congrats on ur milestone i think ur so cool and funny and ofc so so deserving :D for ❤️‍🔥 can i request forehead against forehead from prompt list 5 bc i am a sucker for it <33 thank u ily !

ahhh!!! anna you are so lovely <3 thank u sm for picking this one it opened pandoras BOX in my brain and i think this is by far my absolute favourite i've written this whole damn celebration & its bcos its, of course, friends to lovers <3 - 1.7k+

The wish is far-fetched.

You knew that from the beginning and yet, like wishes were stackable, like wishing for something over and over would improve its odds of happening, you couldn’t help yourself. Every eyelash, every time the hands of the clock line up at 11.11, you wish desperately.

Eyes scrunched closed, you wish for Steve.

You have him, of course, just not quite as you want him.

It feels selfish, the hungry feeling that rises in your chest when you look at him too long, eyes drinking in every detail you adore. Long lashes, hazel eyes, lips so pink it wasn’t fair. You want him all to yourself. These are not the usual thoughts of a best friend.

Sometimes, the yearning seems to carve out every part of you til you feel hollow inside; because you’d offer it all out to him, every piece of yourself between your cupped hands, his if he only wanted it.

You want him to want it. To want you. Badly.

So, you wish. At this point, it feels more like a habit than anything — the clock hits eleven minutes past 11 and you send a little prayer out to the universe to give you this one thing. You don’t notice how Steve notices.

He can’t quite connect the dots in the beginning, can’t see the pattern that strings together all the things he’s noticed. How from time to time, you’ll close your eyes and squint just a bit— but then, quick as it happens, it’s gone. You’ll open your eyes, look over back at him, and continue on as if nothing has occurred.

Steve doesn’t pry, even though he really wants to — the first time you notice him watching you, he raises his brows, a silent what was that? with a hope you’ll clue him in. He wants in on all your secrets. But in an instant, he can see the embarrassment creep across your features, so he drops it, waving his hand, and resumes talking, eyes back on the road ahead of him.

After a month of subtlety catching the habit of yours that he's come to cherish, the sweet scrunch of your eyes and gentle clench of your fists at your side, Steve notices the clock.

You check the clock, most of the time, before your eyes flutter closed. It happens late in the morning and close to midnight. But then again also at random intervals, at times he’s not expecting. The frustrating pattern evades him even though he’s noticing. Noticing is, infuriatingly, not enough.

It takes another month for Steve to realise you’re wishing.

He’s enamored with the habit now — especially, now he knows you’re sending little hopes, blowing on eyelashes with the fervor of a little kid. The craving to know your secrets, to be trusted with your wishes, has grown ten-fold since he first noticed. Steve notices just about everything about you now.

It’s hard not to. What started as trying to comprehend your peculiar pattern, has become... something entirely different. Steve feels helpless to do anything but admire you now. His feelings for you have become startlingly fond, borderline sappy.

The sound of your laughter and how it threads gold into his days marvels him. The colour of your eyes in the morning light. How you curl up in his passenger seat like it’s the comfiest place you’ve ever known, like you could sit there all day with him. If he asked. 

He’s pretty sure his heart strayed from best friend territory the moment he figured out the wishes. Maybe, he’s fooling himself and it’s always been this way.

It’s on his mind, even as the two of you sit at the back of the Hawk theatre, some garbage Sci-Fi film flickering on the screen. Normally, the back of the cinema was unofficially reserved for couples that wanted to make-out — Steve had pulled that move on a dozen dates. Picked a cheesy romance and the cozy darkness of the back of the theatre.

This is not the same, he knows. It’s not a cheesy romance film, you’re not quite at the back, and most importantly, this is not a date.

Steve really wishes it was.

“Hey,” Your whisper shakes him from his thoughts. Steve’s gaze moves from boring into the back of the chair in front of him to your concerned face. “Y’okay?” 

You’ve turned towards him, shoulders hunched over like you might disturb other people in the cinema if you’re too big. It’s silly, there’s barely anyone else in here but you and Steve. A couple people a few rows forward.

Steve nods, throat dry. You don’t look convinced, eyes narrowing for a moment as if you’ll say something when your expression shifts. You focus on something below his eye.

“What?” Steve whispers, too aware of your fixed stare. His nerves creep up, feeling a bit flushed beneath your attention. Your hand comes up, reaching out to graze across his cheek and Steve forces himself to stay still. To not melt into the touch.

“S’just an eyelash.” You whisper, still focused. Thumb moving gently as you can, you sweep the eyelash beneath his eye off his cheek. It moves an inch but remains stubbornly on his skin. You huff silently, turn his way a little more, and lean in closer to try pinch it. It takes a moment as you try your best not to pinch Steve at the same time.

When you finally snag it between your fingertips, victory comes in the form of your pleased smile. It takes another moment to realise just how close you’ve gotten to Steve. Leaned over, his breath fans over your face and you can see the film reflected in his eyes, action sequences playing far, far away.

Faintly, you think that if you had your wish already, you could lean in a few inches further and steal a kiss. You think of the eyelash in your fingertips.

The thought knocks sense back into you, blinking hard, but just as you go to pull back Steve’s eyes flash down to your lips. He licks his own, then swallows, looks back up at you. A wretched thread of hopes keeps you from pulling back just yet — desperately praying you’re not reading into nothing.

Steve doesn’t pull back. His heart has hiked so far up his throat he’s surprised he’s able to get any words out at all.

“What are you wishing for?” He croaks, too quiet. You hear it anyways.

Surprise shows on your face, lips parting and eyes widening just a moment. Steve wants you to give back the eyelash just so he can make his very own wish right now.

“How did you... know?” The last word is meek, only audible because Steve is so close. He wants to be closer. He moves an inch, recalling every single time he’s gotten the signals right in the past to keep him from losing his nerve. Tries not to think about what he might lose should he be wrong this time.

“You,” He huffs a little laugh, searching your eyes, trying to see if it’s the same hope he feels inside that he’s seeing in your eyes. “You close your eyes and wish on every 11.11. And— and eyelashes and dandelions too. You do this little squint, like you’re thinking real hard about what you want.”

Unable to help himself, Steve steals another glance at your lips as your tongue darts out to lick them nervously. His chest rises and falls a bit fast, nerves urging his pulse to run faster, faster. God, he’s nervous. Steve can’t remember ever being so nervous at the mere chance of just a kiss.

“So, what're you wishing for?” He asks again, in a whisper just for you two.

The film illuminates the side of your face, shadows dancing across the lines of your cheek. You’re beautiful, Steve thinks, achingly so. The silence twists his heart painfully. He doesn’t know you’re merely gathering your hopes to spit out the honest answer.

“You.”

You whisper the word quickly, knowing if you have a moment to think about it you’ll tuck it and all your selfish desires back away into your heart. But you ache for this moment — hunger devouring your insides with how much you want to kiss the boy before you. Enough that you’ll risk it.

It’s worth the risk.

The single word sets Steve off and he closes the distance between you in an instant, lips against yours. It’s gentle as he can manage while his heart works overtime pumping molten-hot affection into every part of his body. He feels giddy. He nearly forgets to memorise the curve of your lips, the warmth of this against his own, it feels so deliriously good to be kissing you. He thinks he’s been missing this his whole life.

You look a little dazed when Steve pulls back, lips with a sheen that catches the flashes of the cinema screen. You don’t speak, just blink and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, mind miles away. Your lack of a smile worries Steve; he feels like he could burst with how he wants to beam if this is what you want too.

He gathers his courage and presses forward again, til his forehead against yours. Tells you what he knows to be true, what you’ve been dying to hear. “You have me.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his and you give Steve a flood of relief, lips pulling into a smile. A small laugh of disbelief titters out of you, your smile transforming into a grin that betrays your utter happiness. This close, you let the want take over you and lean in to steal another kiss off his lips. He gives it to you sweetly and oh-so-willingly.

You stay this close, nose nuzzling against his, both your heads bowed to meet each other in the middle.

“I’ve been wishing on you for months,” You admit bashfully, your whisper wobbling in your embarrassment. You’re worried the enormity of your want for him will scare him off. Steve’s grin somehow gets wider, eyes somehow fonder. His voice comes out a bit scratchy, all sticky with affection.

“I think you’ve had me the whole time.”

It’s the honest truth. You’re not even mad about lost time because when he kisses you again like that, there’s no doubt that now? He’s all yours.

[drivelikeiido]

25 with matty who’s very drunk or very high and he’s forgotten that the reader is already his gf so he’s trying to (really badly) flirt with her

a poor attempt at flirting (a drabble)

25: “Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”

matty healy x f! reader word count: 1.1k warnings: mentions of alcohol and weed consumption and poor writing due to many months off :/ notes: kay is back and attending to her inbox! thank you for this prompt my dear and ever so sorry it's taken me 6 months to complete it! anyways i'm not really a fan of this but it was sitting in my drafts and i wanna get back to posting so this is a start ! i promise the writing will get better from here on out mwah so accept this as a peace offering for now <3

You had awoken at 1:06am to a phone call from a very exasperated sounding Hann who had politely begged you to come and take your rather high boyfriend off of the boys’ hands as they couldn’t handle his intoxicated rambling much longer and they all know your patience for Matty far exceeds any of theirs.

This is how you’ve landed in some random party in the city filled with musicians and producers and many other peoples’ faces you half recognise while trying to collect your boyfriend. Thankfully all the boys are easily spotted due to their height (and Ross’ unmistakable mane of hair, which he thankfully lets go wild when he’s drunk). George unabashedly hollers over to you when he sees you, raising his ring-clad hands and waving you over, his smile lopsided and his eyes betraying his lack of sobriety as you make your way over to them. He says nothing but points a painted nail to a mop of curls resting on the table, head leaning on his hand while the other nurses a glass of some dark and clearly long forgotten liquid, his face hidden by the length of deep brown ringlets that fall from the top of his head. You’d recognise your boyfriend anywhere but his hair and it’s current messy state you could clock him from miles away, the stray curls resemblant of his unkempt morning bedhead that you love so much. Your heart momentarily warms at the sight until you remember the reason you’re there. You slowly make your way to sit at the table next to him, your movements slow and your eyes never leaving his form.

Once you’re seated you reach your hand slowly out to his, ghosting your fingers over his tattooed arm in an attempt to grab your boyfriend’s attention. He begrudgingly lifts his head up from where it was rested and you can barely just make out his dark hooded eyes from behind the loose curls that fall in front of his face, reaching down and tickling his nose. He releases the drink from his other hand and pushes the unruly strands backwards onto his head, remaining silent and blinking at you multiple times before he speaks. 

“You’re really pretty”. His voice is light and airy and even if you didn't know him as well as you did you’d still be able to sense his inebriated state, however the smell of weed and alcohol makes it overtly clear.

This causes you to laugh, “Thank you. So are you Matty.” you utter with a grin, gaining a surprised intake of breath from the singer, a rush of colour taking to his already flushed cheeks. 

His surprise continues as he lets out a whispered “You know me? What the hell”, his dark eyes now wide with wonder. You ignore the chorus of laughs in the background that you can only assume comes from the rest of the band at their frontman’s embarrassing display of forgetfulness. Being well acquainted with Matty’s intoxicated states you’ve experienced similar situations to this before, all of which have been incredibly entertaining.

Your giggle at his clueless response seems to spur his joy farther, his face breaking out into a lopsided smile. Your boyfriend is a pretty sight when he’s intoxicated, with his dark eyes and messy curls and the intoxicating scent of his expensive aftershave and the sweet weed smoke; if you didn't have to worry about getting him home you’d maybe indulge his flirting fantasy for just a little longer.

You grab onto his lithe fingers and move to slowly guide him up, “Let’s get you outside Darling”. His tiredness seems to have dissipated into excitement at this point as he quickly moves to follow you outside, letting out a hushed “Yes!” and doing what you can only imagine is some victorious movement of celebration out of your line of vision, encouraging even more laughs and hollers from the rest of the band, the phrase “What a twat” seeming to be a shared sentiment amongst the group as they laugh in agreement .

Thankfully, leading your rather drunk and high boyfriend outside is an easier feat than you expected; he eagerly holds onto your hand as you guide him and he too joins you in a large intake of the crisp night air once you make it outside. You stop and situate you both carefully against the wall in an attempt to gather yourself and your boyfriend. Matty however takes this as an opportunity to look up and down between you and the night sky and if you looked closely at him you’re sure you’d be able to see the moon’s ring of light reflecting perfectly in his chestnut eyes, giving them a further element of sparkle than what they normally have. 

He soon surprises you as he takes both of your hands in earnest and holds them delicately between his infinitely larger, but cold fingers. 

“Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?” . The suddenness of this adorable (yet uncharacteristically cheesy) pickup line startles you, the innocence of his state and how he still compliments you works to warm your body against the harsh cold. You find it funny how a man who normally displays such an astounding example of romanticism is reduced to something so simple in this state.

You simply shake your head in amusement and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, “Come on, Healy let’s get you home”. To this he grows juvenile and argues “No. I want to stay here and stare at you longer”. As sweet as the sentiment is you realise you’re going to have to play into his delusions even more, only a little bit offended that your boyfriend still seems to have forgotten you but you make sure to keep it in your arsenal to tease him with in the morning.

Your only attempt at reasoning with him works as you gradually win him over by offering to let him stare at you as long as he wants in the car and when you do eventually get home. Although this works on the stubborn man he still puts up some of a fight as he lowers his head and mumbles “You’re too pretty to be bossy” and although you can’t see it you’re sure a cartoon-like frown make its way across his features as he says this. You ignore him and slowly lead him into the passenger seat of the car, buckling him in despite his insistence he can do it - he’s passenger princess this evening and you’re making the most of it. After reaching the second set of traffic lights you realise that his plans to overtly stare at you are unfulfilled as he had at some point fallen asleep, his heavy head resting haphazardly against the window. You simply smile and lower the radio, already planning just how you’re going to torment him with tonight’s events in the morning.

[weaponizedducks]

much as i love merlin and arthur they were NOT the blueprint. they were very nearly the blueprint, but the actual og's were from a book written in 1862 by Victor Hugo. that's right. it's enjolras and grantaire. the timeline goes exr-merthur-firstprince

[archiveoftragedies]

Genli Ai: I always forget they're not men until they go and start being so womanly nosy and superfluous

Shevek, thoughtfully: you must be the kind of man who would make one of those sensual urrasti couches that are more about sex than sex

Genli Ai: I never know what the fuck you're talking about

[locallyloathed]

I like to think I’m above arguing on the internet. I’ve matured since middle school and ultimately I have better uses for my time.

*sees someone arguing that AM isn’t the most evil antagonist in fiction*

[deus-ex-mona]

dealing with assigned reading like

[vahrutasgrace]

@linklewinklewoman liked for a starter!

¯`°¤.¸.¤ ¯`°¤.-- ♕ II "How peculiar..." She resisted the urge to reach out and touch the other in front of her, as though she were in awe of the carbon copy standing before her; of someone she knew far too well. Only this person in front of her was strikingly female. Her dear childhood friend had always been someone she would consider... on the fluctuating side of being androgynous, but this was something entirely different.

"You look just like someone else I know." She stated, dropping her hand at her side when she determined it too rude to touch a total stranger.

[wonnchann]

[softsnzstuff]

Ok so I’ve seen so many posts floating around about opportunities for canon verse Steve to catch a cold and the one that has me in an absolute chokehold is in S3 where they’re spying on the Russians in the rain. I mean??? Come on….

Well. I’ve come to say look no further. @butyoumakemesohot and I are collabing on a two part “series”. I’m making a little something for S3 and she’s doing one for S4 😎

Also this was so hard to write because it’s before Steve and Robin really become close friends so at this point they’re more like coworkers who talk. ~KB

Steve flicked away some water from his eyes as Robin looked down from the roof with binoculars. Not that it made any difference - he, Robin and Dustin were thoroughly soaked to the bone.

It was pouring rain, the way only Hawkins could in the summer. When Robin had said she cracked the code earlier today, Steve was the first on board with their plan to scope out the mall that evening. But now, soaked and sniffly, he was regretting that decision.

“Snf how much longer do we have to be here?”

“Until we find what we’re looking for!” Robin said, not moving her eyes from the binoculars.

“Well… find it faster. It’s wet and snff cold SNF and I want to go home.”

“Stop complaining!” Dustin elbowed him.

“Ow! Hey! SnFF I have a cold and you dragged me out in the rain. You’re lucky if I don’t get pneumonia…”

Robin sighed, exasperated, “You don’t get sick from being wet, Dingus.”

“Gimme the binoculars.” Dustin made a grab for them, Robin taking them off her back and handing them to the boy.

Steve shook his head and lifted a hand to comb the hair out of his face. Robin looked at him, perplexed.

“Why do you have that stupid look on your face?”

“I’m snff gonna snehh sneeze…”

“Don’t you dare!” Robin hissed through her teeth.

Everyone was familiar with how loud Steve’s sneezes were, and on top of this echoing roof? There would be no hiding that. Their position would be compromised immediately.

“Just don’t sneeze!” Dustin said as if it were an obvious solution.

“I can’t just nehhh not .. sneeze, Henderson…”

His breath was already starting to hitch. Robins eyes widened as she did the only thing she could think to do. She took off her Scoops vest and lunged forward quietly.

Laying on top of his back like a hug from behind, she pressed the vest to her coworker’s face, trying to pinch his nose and cover his mouth at the same time.

“HIH-MPSSH! H’MPTSCH!!”

The three froze for a minute, making sure the guards didn’t see or hear them. It seemed they were in the clear.

“There!” Dustin stage whispered.

“Umb a bless you would be ndice.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“No dummy, those are the boxes. Right there!!” He pointed down so they could see right where they needed to go.

“Alright. So we’ll just have to figure out a way to get back there!” Robin exclaimed as if it would be easy.

“Figure it out tomorrow. I’b going home.”

***

Ding ding

The bell at the front of Scoops Ahoy rang. Steve wiped at his nose with his already damp tissue and shoved it back into his shorts pocket.

“Ahoy, sailor! How can I hehh help- HAESSSH! ISSSH! HAKSSHIEW!”

The two girls at the counter grimaced, “On second thought, we’ll go to Baskin Robbins…”

The window to the back room slid open, “Switch with me Dingus, you’re scaring away all our customers!”

“I ab ndot! … iKSHew! snlorff”

Steve slurped back congestion and Robin gagged as she shut the window and walked around to the front.

“Bless you. You really weren’t kidding about that cold.” She tried to make light of it, feeling slightly guilty her antics may have contributed to making it worse.

Steve shrugged, “Been happeni’g a lot m’bore since I started hanging out with the kids.”

Robin pulled a couple napkins from the dispenser on the counter.

“Blow your nose, moron. I can hardly understand you.” She chuckled.

She felt a panic in her chest as he did as he was told.

“Hey, why don’t you go home? I can finish up here.”

“I can’t ask you to do that Robin.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked again.

“Yeah. It’s what friends are for.”

Steve thanked her as he grabbed his backpack and headed out. Robin couldn’t stop hearing that word echoing in her head.

‘That’s what friends are for.’

‘Friend’

Her new friend, Steve Harrington.

[biitchcakes]

@danversiism said: ❛   i gotta tell you something . . .   ❜ finally, the doors to Jess' quarters open & the blonde barges in, taking a seat on her bestie's bed before patting the empty spot beside her. ❛   i'm just gonna say it, then we can freak out together, okay ? Dr. Carter confirmed that i have a bun in the oven, like they used to say back in the 21st century. surprise auntie Jessie !   ❜ // ( unprompted ! )

❝ YOU'VE GOT A WHAT ?!?! ❞ The elation overtakes every nerve in her body, every muscle in her face. ❝ In the WHERE ?! ❞ Smile stretching ear to ear, the tablet she held hits the floor with an echoing thud, eyes already growing wet. Hands fly wildly toward Carol ⸺ gripping first at her face, then at her arms, before coming to rest over her stomach. No outward evidence yet, of course, but, before they know it. . .

Holy SHIT !!!

Pulling her best friend in for a hug, Jess holds her the closest she ever has ⸺ the soft, mushy feeling bubbling up, boiling over initial shocked excitement. ❝ AUNTIE JESSIE, hm ? ❞ Testing her new title out with a hum. The realness of it all settling in, twisting at her heart and stomach, but not at all unpleasantly. It was a tender feeling, the anticipation of Carol's new future. Of her own new future, too, by extension.

Still gripping onto the blonde's arms as though she might fly away at any second, Jessica pulls back to look at her. ❝ How are you, Carol ? I mean, it wasn't that long ago we were talking about how NEW all of this was. And I know I said things move fast in space, with someone you've known your whole life, no less. And I know you said that, despite being a bit unsure, everything feels right. As it should ! But, how are you ? ❞

Gingerly, she cups HER SISTER'S face with one hand for a just moment. ❝ I imagine this has all got to be rather overwhelming, even if you are excited. Did you just find out ? Have you told Jim ? ❞ Linda's already found out before her, and the Captain, the Dad, is the only other person she wants to have known before her.

Not to make it about her. . .

❝ You know, I'm going to be even more up your ass than usual, right ? Like, ho ho ho, this fuckin' ship is a DEATH MACHINE. In fact, actually, scratch that ⸺ I'm not leaving your side. What if something invades the ship !? What if someone attacks us !?! Oh, my Goooood. . . ❞ Hands fall from her best friend, only to clasp at her own face, and over her heart. ❝ I have to start baby-proofing the Enterprise now. Do you know how massive this damn thing is ?! ❞

[drivelikeiido]

to dye for

matty dyes the reader's hair in his own chaotic, messy way

matty healy x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: some suggestive mentions but it's all jokey but other than that it's just fluff ! (aka all i seem to write)

notes: this is self indulgent because i dye my hair all the time and i saw a pic of blue haired matty on the dash this morning that inspired me to actually write this ! also shoutout to mads for saying it was similar to the hair dying scene from clueless you were so right and i finally watched clueless because of that so slay

The scene in the bathroom is carnage. Coloured dye and stained towels litter the previously spotless floor. You almost regret putting too much trust into your boyfriend’s capabilities to help you, but he did insist and who were you to resist those chocolate brown eyes?

You're sitting cross-legged on the chair you brought in from the office, one you’re glad neither of you cared about as it’s now irreversibly dyed with memories of this venture. Matty stands behind you, your head at the perfect height for him to apply his ministrations. Normally you adore the feeling of your boyfriend’s slender fingers playing and passing through your hair, but at this current moment in time the feeling just stresses you out, not being able to see the ‘artistic choices’ he’s taking in terms of your appearance worries you. It’s not that you don’t trust him but judging from the sight of the splatters of dye that are dotted all over the bathroom floor he seems to have gotten a little too overenthusiastic to be involved in your makeover, making you worry for the state of your undoubtedly stained scalp.

After a particularly loud sigh from you and a warning of “Matty!” your boyfriend's infectious giggle can be heard from above you, the wholesome sound filling the small space of the bathroom.

“Darling I am helping you know”

“Matty, you’re getting dye everywhere!” you chide, only pretending to be annoyed at him and he knows that.

“You want it all to be covered don’t you?”

You snap your head back to look up at him, his infectious grin already staring back at you, “Yes but not the walls!”. His responding laugh is booming and full of entertainment and the way his eyes crinkle at the edges with how broad his smile is makes you want to kiss every inch of his pretty face, that too which somehow has dots of dye splattered onto it, making him look even more like a work of art than he normally does. 

His colourful gloved hands start a shooing motion, telling you to turn around once again so he can finish his job. You slump your shoulders in joking exaggeration, breathing out “You’re gonna make my hair go grey Matthew”. His laugh is immediate, “And then I’ll just dye over it again” his voice proud and smug as he drops a loud, overdramatic kiss to your shoulder, that act alone fracturing your annoyed facade, a large lovestruck smile breaking out onto your face.

“You make me want to scream sometimes”

“Oh I know, love”, you can practically hear the shit-eating grin in his sudden sultry voice as he decides to interpret this as innuendo.

His antics make you sigh once more as you lean your head back, looking up at his playful eyes, “Oh stop, you know I didn't mean it like that”.

His mischievous smile is hypnotising as you look up at him from below, his face upside down due to your awkward angle, “Oh sure you didn’t but I have enough memories of you screaming for me to last a lifetime so forgive me if your threat lacks substance sweetheart”

“Oh my god Matthew!”, the memories of pleasure-filled nights filling your mind and making you blush; even after all these years of dating he still has this effect on you so easily.

His amused laugh echoes in your ears once again, “Please, stop pretending to be innocent, we both know you like it”.

You suddenly feel very vulnerable, covered in hair dye and currently blushing and flustered from your boyfriend’s previous comment, “Behave and finish my hair now please”. 

“Anything you say love”.

He maneuvers your head forwards again to allow him to add some finishing touches to the art piece that is your hair, how there’s any part of your head not covered in dye at this point is a mystery to you but you let him entertain himself.

Once Matty had rinsed through your hair until the water ran clear, his fingers soothing as he ran them through the freshly coloured strands as well as the conditioner he had generously applied afterwards. 

When that too was rinsed out, he left you sitting on your shared bed like a wet dog while you towel-dry off your hair as he tries to clean up the multicoloured mess he had created in the bathroom. As you take the hairdryer to your hair Matty comes in from the other room, now changed into his ‘comfy clothes’ and wearing those tartan pyjama bottoms he knows you can never take your eyes off of. He walks slowly up to you from behind, wrapping his tattooed arms around your chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, looking at you in the tall mirror you both stand in front of. His eyes and smile are tired as he silently appreciates you and your new look, his thumbs rubbing slowly over your ribs and holding you flush to his cosy chest, an action that always feels like home.

Your hair is finally dry and Matty takes on the responsibility of being the one to brush it, slowly dragging the brush through your fresh hair and afterwards running his fingers through it once more, that motion alone bringing on a wave of sleep causing you to subconsciously lean back into him, your eyes fluttering shut at the contact. Matty begins carefully swaying you both side to side, still watching you intently in the mirror, leaving feather-light kisses in the crook of your neck, the urge to have them tattooed into your skin a constant desire. 

His voice is low as he sleepily mumbles into your skin, “New hair looks good y’know, always knew it would, you’d suit anything”. 

Your voice is light and appreciative as you thank him and watch your sleepy man of a boyfriend nuzzle closer into your body, his dark eyes making eye contact with yours as he leans up to drop a kiss to the side of your temple, 

“You look beautiful, my perfect little art piece”.

His reference to his pollock-like hairdressing style makes you giggle and turn around to hug him fully, his large arms more than welcoming as he holds you tight against his pyjama-clad torso once again, whispers of sleep swirling around you both and subconsciously dragging you back to bed.

[bubblebeebuzz]

Rank every letter in the English alphabet in order of your liking

OH GOD THATS HARD OK...

q, b, x, a, j, w, v, z, o, k, p, r, i, l, d, u, g, y, s, h, m, f, t, n, e, c

[maskyartist]

me: alright time to finish up this commission and get to work-

clip studio paint: *updates makes all the icons way too big no way to resize them completely resets my WHOLE system*

me on the verge of a breakdown:

[keeps-ache]

yeah sure i'm awake but i'm also. awake.

cost

[crossbackpoke-check]

Hi! Its the Anon re Mo and Zegras hanging out. So I got this from the interview of Mo on the spitting chiclets podcast (which...I really dont like spitting chiclets but I had to listen bc Mo). But if you want to listen to it, the interview (either podcast or youtube version) as a whole is like an hour and is incredibly interesting and the part re zegras is brief at 2 hours 1 min if you would like - Mo apparently chilled with the U18 USNDTP guys so it fits your story! Thanks again for your lovely thought spirals!

😪 literally just listened to the broadscast round table discussion on hockey media today lmao so my ire for sp*tting ch*clets is even more than normal! which is quite a lot! thank you for your service (✊😔 listening to That Podcast and sharing the important information so the rest of us may have content without suffering)

on a better note OH MY GOD i’m???? no words. how would they interact the dynamic this now gives the calder contention why did no one talk about this before 🤌🤏🫴🫰mo & z FRIENDS? frenemies?? is zegras mentioned by name?? which usntdp u18s were named or was it just mentioned as the entire (gestures towards amoeba in a FUCK OR DIE t-shirt) vague conglomerate Entity™️ that is the usntdp??