#but now back to drawing frogs kissing

[sideblogdotjpeg]

i have to make silly drawings because otherwise i think about how from the moment he left moonstone swag daniels has been exploited and reduced to a body by all the people he turned to looking for meaning/connection and now he might be already dead and turned into a mindless body puppeted by alexandrite. and i cant think about that so i have to draw blorbos wearing crop tops

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemicrofic March challenge.

Five, Nine, Nine, Two

March Prompt: Pin | Word Count: 388 | Rating: G | CW: None | Tags: Established Relationship, Banter, Long-Term Relationship, Older Steddie, Still Together, But Still Pushing Each Other's Buttons

"What do you mean you don't remember your PIN? You created it!" Steve yells, and Eddie just keeps moving in front of the computer. Pacing. Fretting. Worrying his hands. 

"First off, I didn't pick it. They just gave it to me and I'm expected to remember it? It's, like, eight letters. Maybe some numbers. I don't know. I'm too old for this," Eddie rambles, staring at the computer screen. Like he can will it back to the forefront of his memory.

He doesn't remember. Can't. It's just gone, vaporized.

"You didn't write it down?" Steve snaps, digging around the cluttered desk, scattering a handful of crumpled Post-Its across the keyboard. "None of these are it?!"

"You told me to stop doing that, so I did!" Eddie argues back. Because Steve had forced him to stop writing down his passwords and PINs months ago, and now, well, this is what they have to show for it.

Eddie hums under his breath, trying to remember if he made up a little song about it or not. He does that sometimes. It helps.

"Stop singing under your breath and think!" Steve snaps, and Eddie waves his hands around his head, trying to get Steve to be quiet so he can concentrate.

"I am thinking!" Eddie yells, and then starts mumbling, singing under his breath, "Pineapple peach, dog frog, five-"

"Nine, nine, two…" Steve sings along with him, clearly annoyed, drawing out that two like it has seventeen letters instead of three. "You sang that stupid nonsense song all last week. I don't want it stuck in my head again, stop it!"

Eddie stops. Looks at Steve, "That's my password."

He taps the keyboard slowly, one hunt-and-pecked key at a time: PPDF5992.

And sure enough, they're in.

Steve kisses Eddie on the side of the head, then sits down, guiding the mouse cursor to the little applications message box that's lit up in the corner, indicating there's a response waiting.

"It's there," Steve says, mouse still hovering.

"Well, click it!" Eddie demands, putting both his hands on Steve's shoulders, squeezing, urging him on.

Steve clicks it.

Accepted.

Eddie shakes Steve's shoulders in excitement. They passed the home visit. The shelter is giving them a cat. And not just any cat, the most perfect cat Eddie has ever seen in his whole life.

I don't know why this was the first thing that came to mind, but it's definitely inspired by Marshall from How I Met Your Mother and his singing nonsense to remember his bar exam password.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[not-magdi]

Face Masks

Summary: Pablo discovering the wonderful world of face masks

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x fem!reader

Warnings: none just pure fluff

Words: 534

Skincare was extremely important to you. You enjoyed having a nightly routine, which helped you stay calm and sane despite your hectic life with your boyfriend, Pablo Gavi.

You have your serums and your creams all nicely lined up on the bathroom shelf. All organized by colours and sizes, it's your little happy place.

Pablo didn't understand it at first, not getting behind the idea of standing an hour in the bathroom, smearing different things on your face. But after you explained their importance to you, he accepted it. He still doesn't understand it but learns to live with it.

You're currently standing in your holy bathroom, applying a face mask to your face, as you feel two hands snake around your waist.

"When are you coming to bed amor.?"

"Soon, I'm almost done."

Dipping his finger in the container, he plays with the mask and draws a disgusted face.

"And you put that on your face because you want to?"

You chuckle and nod your head, finishing applying it to your face. Then, an idea sparked in your mind.

"Hey, can I apply some to your face?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Come on, pleaseeeeee?"

You try to give him your best puppy-dog eyes, and not surprising you at all, it takes exactly one minute for him to budge.

"Fineee, but my face better be as soft as a baby's butt after this"

You celebrate your success for a second before you beckon him to sit on the counter before you. Finding the most stupid headband you own, you put it in his head.

Taking a step back, you admire how your boyfriend looked with his hair all put-back. You started to laugh at the sight before you. He looked like a little kid with his little frog headband.

"You having fun, cariño?"

"Yes, very much."

Composing yourself, you start to apply the mask to his face. Which was harder than you might think because that little shit kept trying to move away all the goddam time.

"Amor, that's cold!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Beauty is pain, baby. Beauty is pain."

After you finished applying the mask to his face, you took a good look at your artwork. It was the cutest thing you have ever seen in your entire life.

Pablo's face, completely covered in a white face mask, with a pout on his lips, was a sight that was now permanently burned in your brain.

Grabbing your phone, you take a photo of this sight to post it afterwards.

"Really, you gonna take a photo of my suffering?"

"Yes, now come here. I wanna take a selfie too."

You take a few selfies and cuddle up on the bed to wait until the masks are dry.

"Amor, are they supposed to burn?"

"Uhh, yeees?"

You let out a sigh of relief as you hear the timer go off. Dragging Pablo to the bathroom, you wash the mask off his face, chuckling at his surprised face, when he feels how soft his skin got.

"Dios mio, it's so soft!"

"I know, face masks are awesome right?"

"Sí, cariño, we need to do this more often OK?!"

Laughing, you nod your head, kissing his cheek, happy how excited he got over face masks.

your_username

Liked by pedrigonzáles, mikkykiemeney and 430.000 others

your_username couldn't convince him to keep the headband 😂

tagged: pablogavi

pablogavi: love you ❤️ and my soft skin

pedrigonzáles: Stylisch hermano 😂

⎮pablogavi: Ey, your skin is gonna thank you afterwards

pablitooogavi: Not Pablo being obsessed with face masks 😂

⎜liked by pablogavi

mikkykiemeney: How did you get him to do that?!

⎜your_username: I bribed him with food

user7325384: Hahah, I love them

fcbarçalover: Couple goaaalllllsss!!

gaviisthebest: If they break up I'm gonna need therapy

⎜liked by your_username

[omgreally]

Defeat

Defeat - E 18+ - Din Djarin/F!Reader - 900 words Warnings: fluff with a side of smut. The post-Season 3 drabble nobody asked for.

Din Djarin's brooding again.

You are fairly certain he does it unconsciously, like breathing, protecting Grogu, or beating the living shit out of people. Usually, there's a correlation between those. But then there are the quiet moments, the softer moments in between the more visceral ones.

It's like he doesn't know what to do with himself now except exude an aura of I-really-wish-I-was-killing-someone-right-now.

He's sitting on the porch, feet up, watching Grogu levitate some frogs.

"Retirement doesn't suit you, Djarin," you tell him, not for the first time.

The helmet turns, and Mando--Djarin--lowers his feet as if he's ashamed, as if he's been caught doing something he shouldn't, like relaxing. To a Mandalorian, that's tantamount to heresy.

He still keeps his helmet on when he's outside.

You approach slowly, as if he's a wild animal, stopping short of extending your hand for him to sniff. The impassive helmet just stares. So you insinuate yourself onto his lap, and the vocoder digitizes a soft noise as you settle with your back against his chest.

"What are you ruminating about this time?" You watch Grogu juggle a family of amphibians, giggling.

"Nothing," Din Djarin says, a fuzzy rumble against your back. He moves your hair away from your neck, and you shiver at the brush of his gloved fingers. His thumb finds a knot in your trapezius and presses in firmly.

"Liar," you reply, but without any real venom. He's working the knot out with slow circles, and it feels quite nice, actually.

"I think I know the problem," you say, trying not to groan. He makes a noise which means go on, lifting the hairs on the back of your neck. "You're bored. There's not enough adrenaline in your system when nobody's been trying to kill you for a while."

Djarin is silent, which means you're right, but I don't like it.

"Think Grogu can keep himself occupied for a while?" you add, with the dark heat of the forge in your voice and your fingers drifting back along the outside of his thigh.

He stands, and you slip off his lap. "Perimeter's active," he says. "He won't wander too far."

There was a time when he wouldn't let Grogu out of his sight. A robust security system--the one you installed--helped. You're impossibly glad you did as you let Din Djarin grab your hand and lead you back inside the house.

He turns off the lights. Clothes hit the floor like bodies amid the thunk of weaponry and armour. Calloused skin meets yours, and you fight to kiss him, but he dodges away and applies his mouth, impossibly warm, to your neck and lower.

You don't make it easy for him. He handles you delicately--for him--but each touch weakens his defense. The sweep of your fingers over his chest, his stomach, disarms him. He wrestles to pin you to the wall, but he knows he's defeated. The battle was lost the moment he took your hand.

The bed is soft, and Din Djarin is hard above you, inside you. The stretch and burn of him is enough to unmake you. But he is trembling, his mouth open against the hollow of your collarbone, panting as if he's been running for his life. You wrap your legs around his waist and draw him in closer. His scalp is damp beneath your fingertips.

But Mando has always been pinpoint-accurate with both his aim and his timing. He rears back enough to reach between your bodies, and his trigger finger settles on your clitoris. He knows when to strike a last-minute killing blow, and this is it. You curse and cry his name, and you can just about see, in the dim half-light from under the door, the curve of a triumphant grin on his face, and that's what it does you in.

The blinding rise of your orgasm crests, burning through your nerves from his fingers and his cock. You clench around him and try to cover your own mouth with your hand, but he drags it away, pins it to the bed and leans forward to growl in your ear, "I want to hear you."

You writhe and sob, but the Mandalorian is relentless, driving into you with the force of a man possessed, to whom surviving the next thirty seconds is the only option he has left. It's not until you're limp and spent beneath him that he stops moving, that he withdraws his hand and lets you go so you can breathe again.

He keeps his weight off you, his arms bracketing your head, hips pressed to yours, savouring the twitch and shudder of you around him.

"You win," you croak as soon as your ability to speak returns.

"Just because you've surrendered doesn't mean I'm done with you yet," he says, and shifts a little atop you. Oversensitive, you gasp at the hard, wet slide of him; nearly frictionless, he's so deep inside you that you ache.

"I can't," you gasp.

But you can. And you do. And so does he.

Afterwards, he tells you it's a draw.

When you head back outside, limping a little--and there's a definite swagger to Djarin when he notices that--Grogu is more or less where you left him, sitting by the pond. His bat-wing ears twitch, and he babbles happily as the Mandalorian picks him up.

"Hey," you say, frowning as you notice something. "All the frogs are gone."

Grogu burps.

Din Djarin sighs. "Guess he won, too."

♥

[fieldofdaisiies]

Halloween Party

ship: Theodore Nott x Reader type: fluff/suggestive word count: 1,8k words warnings: underage (they are 17) smoking, drinking, sneaking out summary: Y/N and Theo attend a Halloween party hosted by the Slytherins and later on decide to sneak away

Your heart is pounding vividly. Music is sounding all around you, and in your ears.

You stand at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, excitement coursing through your veins as you take in the scene before you.

The Halloween party is in full swing, the room in front of you a wicked wonderland full of students dressed up as monsters, spiderwebs decorating every corner, and ghosts adorning the dark emerald walls.

The sconces' soft glow casts eerie shadows across the room. Jack-o'-lanterns flicker all over the room. 

In the centre of the room, is burning brightly, its flames casting a warm, inviting light upon the room. On the table in front of it there is a a lavish spread of Halloween treats like chocolate frogs, liquorice wands, and pumpkin pasties.The scents of these sweet and baked goods mingles with the with the musky aroma of fire whiskey (someone must have snuck it in) and the earthy notes of pumpkin juice.

You look around and spot your friends, all in their Halloween finery. Draco is dressed in an casual attire, not costume though. Pansy is a mysterious witch (more than usual, now dressed up and styled). Enzo, with a wicked grin on his lips, has decided to put on a werewolf costume, his body adorned with realistic fur and fangs.

And then there is Theo. The object of all your desires and your heart. Your boyfriend. And he looks absolutely dashing, with a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He decided to dress up as a vampire, his fangs visible, his hair neatly combed back. He looks stunning, you think and pull your lower lip between your teeth. 

His dark eyes lock onto yours, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He flicks away his cigarette, of course making sure it is no longer burning and approaches you.

"Baby, you look stunning," Theo says, his voice low and smooth. "I can't wait to…let my teeth sink into your soft skin." He leans in a little, kisses your cheek and then your neck. He draws in a deep inhale, your scent and leans back with a smirk on his lips. 

You blush, feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment. You, just like Pansy dressed up as a witch, still wearing your robes, but the skirt is a little shorter, the blouse unbuttoned, the tie hanging loosly around your neck. 'All the other days you are a good witch, on Halloween you are a sexy witch,' is what Pansy had told you when you had gotten ready. You had laughed at her, but you have to admit you absolutely love the outfit and how it fits you. And how Theo looks at you — like he would truly love to devour you. 

"Well, you Mr Nott, look very dashing yourself." You bounce onto your toes and peck his lips. He tastes like Fire Whiskey — musky and sweet. 

He grins and offers you his arm, and you accept it with a smile. Together, you make your way over to a cozy corner of the room where a small group has gathered. Blaise Zabini is talking about their last Quidditch game (one they obviously won), his smooth, deep voice captivating the the people gathered there. He uses his hands, gesturing, to make his point even more clear. 

"Fuck Gryffindor," Draco chimes in when Blaise finishes, pouring a shot of fire whiskey for himself. His housemates are cheering, and so is Blaise. You watch them with amusement and think to yourself, men…

Draco offers Theo another two glasses, one for your boyfriend, one for you. Theo takes the drinks and hands one to you, his fingers brushing yours. The contact sends a pleasant shiver down your spine and makes warmth erupt in your hands. "A toast to Halloween, and to the most beautiful witch at Hogwarts," he says, raising his glass.

You clink your glass with Theo's, the fiery liquid warming your throat as you take a sip and then lean in to kiss him, this time a little deeper, tasting the whiskey on both your lips. 

When you lean back, the room seems to blur, and you find yourself lost in Theo's eyes. He leans closer, his breath soft against your ear. "Dance with me, Y/N?"

Obviously you say yes and follow him into the middle of the room, next to the table with the lavish goods and soon you are joined by your friends. A bewitched gramophone is playing a beautiful music and you sway together, lost in each other's company, his hands on your hips, yours on his strong shoulders. 

Laughter and happy fills the room as you all dance, big smiles gracing your faces. Everyone swirls everyone around but soon your return to your boyfriend. After a few dances, you and Theo make your way back to your cozy corner, and he pulls you onto his lap, your back perfectly fitting against his chest. You hum in delight, feeling his hard chest press against your back. 

His hands sneak around your waist, over your belly and he pulls you closer, his lips brushing from your collar bone up to your ear. You shiver at the sensation and jerk a little in his lap. "Theo," you whisper, voice tinged with reprimand. 

But your boyfriend does not care. He loves showing everyone that you are his. Normally, he is not so keen on the public display of affection, but it always changes when he drinks something. Then everyone has to see you are his, and only his. 

Theo leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper that only you can hear when he says, "Lets sneak out to the Black Lake." 

You bite down on your lip and turn to look at him. His eyes have darkened, yet the promise of what would expect you shines brightly in them.

The idea sends shivers of excitement down your spine. And so you nod. It is exciting and thrilling, sneaking out with him in the middle of the night. It is not like you haven't met at night in either the common room or a broom closet before, but this is different. You are leaving the castle!

Out of the sight of the others, you slip away with Theo, your hand in his. A wave of thrill and ecstasy washes over you as you tiptoe through the hallways, the large corridors of the castle, hoping to go unnoticed. You really hope no painting will give you away, revealing you to the headmaster or some teachers. But you always stay close to the walls and the ground and truly manage to sneak out of the castle. But you stay calm until your far enough that no one inside the castle could spot or hear you. 

The Black Lake already awaits you as the chilly night air greets you. The moonlight casts a silvery path across the ground and leads you towards the lake. 

Theo removes his cloak and spreads it out on the ground for you to sit down. Once seated he immediately pulls you into his arms and kisses you. And when your lips part, his face stays within inches of yours and he looks at you. Just looks at you and it is all he does for a very long moment. 

Until he brings his thumb up and brushes it over your lower lip. "You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N. I am the luckiest man alive." His voice is breathless, a whispered promise to love you until the very last day of your life. 

Your breath mingles with Theo's when you lean in closer, lips nearly on his. "And I am the luckiest woman alive." Your lips curl when his press against them.  

His fingers brush against yours, and then move lower. Without much effort, Theo pulls you onto his lap, your bodies melding. A gasp parts your lips, but he does not let you escape, his hand buried in the hair at the back of your head, moving your head even closer, his tongue simultaneously parting your lips. He groans when you allow him entrance, his other hand sliding down to grab your butt. "The sexiest little witch I have ever seen," he rasps against your lips and kisses you again. 

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the kiss, the world around you fading into the background. Everything turns into insignificance as you give yourself to him, your bodies becoming one near the lake. 

"Theo," you whisper, a hint of mischief in your voice. 

He nips at your lower lip and then lifts his darkened gaze to you. "Hm?"

"Didn't you say something about wanting to sink your teeth into my—"

He does not even let you finish, flipping you over, but of course making sure you land softly on the ground and his coat. His finds his place on top of you, your hips falling open, his hands braced on either side of you, lips and teeth attached to your neck. At first his kisses you, softly, gently, then he graces his teeth over your skin until he starts to bite down softly, nibbling. 

You know only magic will be able to conceal the terrible love bight he is giving you, but it is so worth it. Your back arches a little, pressing against him, against the hard ridge of his hardening length and a moan parts your lips. He groans in approval, both at the sounds leaving you and the feel of your body against his. 

He devours you, worships you. Praises you. Tells you how beautiful you are, over and over again. Your bodies come together under the moonlight, accompanied by the soft sounds of the water of the lake and the some owls howling in the nearby forest. 

Only a long time after, you return to the party, hand in hand, with secret smiles that only the two of you share on your lips. You know your hair is ruffled, cheeks flushed, costumes no longer looking as they did before you snuck out. Your lipstick is smudged and Pansy flashes you a knowing grin when she spots the two of you re-entering the party. 

You only roll your eyes at her, but eventually have to grin. 

"I love you," you tell Theo, kiss his cheek and then let go off his hand to walk over to your friends — Pansy and Astoria. You also want to spend the party with them, or part of it. Since you've started going out with Theo you've been spending less them with them and you miss them. Greatly. So, some time this evening has to be reserved for them. And you know that they are sitting on hot coals, waiting for you to tell them everything. 

Later on your once again joined by the boys and the night continues, filled with laughter, chatter and a few more drinks. 

It is a wonderful night to remember, full of love and happiness. Theo wraps his arm around you once again, bringing you in close. "But I am sure I love you more, my stunning witch." He kisses your cheek and intertwines your hands. 

[traeumenvonbuechern]

Historical Romances by Black Authors

Aphrodite wishes to escape the marriage mart but will a second chance with the elusive Duke of Everely change her mind? Aphrodite Du Bell is a diamond of the first water and a favourite of the queen. But her renowned loveliness didn't stop the love of her life, Evander Eagleman, from jilting her and marrying another woman four years ago. Aphrodite has been in self-imposed exile ever since. However, when her formidable mother summons her back to London Aphrodite has no choice but to acquiesce. Upon her return, Aphrodite learns that the newly widowed Evander is in town and, despite her best efforts, the grand society events of the season repeatedly push them together. With each encounter, Aphrodite's traitorous feelings make it perfectly clear that the Duke still holds court over her heart. Why did Evander cast Aphrodite aside all those years ago, and now that they have a second chance, can the couple make strides to mend past hurts?

Ailsa Connery has waited three long years to finally escape her enslavement at Stirling Castle and reunite with her clan. But her carefully laid plans are completely destroyed by the arrival of the infamous Highland warrior known as Dubh Mahoun, the Black Devil…who has plans of his own. Kallum MacNeill's fearsome reputation has long allowed him to keep hidden his secret double life of freeing enslaved captives across the land. It's only when he kidnaps a servant lass—quite by accident—that he finds himself facing a wee predicament. He must accompany the lass home or risk her exposing his true identity. It'd be easy enough…if the feisty hellion didn't fight him at every turn. As they make their way to the Highlands, the perils the two must face are surpassed only by their constant sparring. Soon, their heated sniping sparks heat of a totally different kind. The kind that ignites a hunger that could consume them both. Yet the difficult journey is no match for the dangerous secrets they're about to uncover.

The first novel in USA Today Bestselling Author Beverly Jenkins’s compelling new series follows a Northern woman south in the chaotic aftermath of the Civil War . . . Valinda Lacy’s mission in the steamy heart of New Orleans is to help the newly emancipated community survive and flourish. But soon she discovers that here, freedom can also mean danger. When thugs destroy the school she has set up and then target her, Valinda runs for her life—and straight into the arms of Captain Drake LeVeq. As an architect from an old New Orleans family, Drake has a deeply personal interest in rebuilding the city. Raised by strong women, he recognizes Valinda’s determination. And he can’t stop admiring—or wanting—her. But when Valinda’s father demands she return home to marry a man she doesn’t love, her daring rebellion draws Drake into an irresistible intrigue.

A fun and feminist Regency romp from a master of the genre hailed as "a delight" by Bridgerton author Julia Quinn. Nothing happens in London without Graham Wynchester knowing. His massive collection of intelligence is invaluable to his family’s mission of aiding those most in need. So when he deciphers a series of coded messages in the scandal sheets, Graham’s convinced he must come to a royal’s rescue. But his quarry turns out not to be a princess at all… The captivating Kunigunde de Heusch is anything but a damsel in distress, and the last thing she wants is Graham’s help. All her life, Kuni trained alongside the fiercest Royal Guardsmen in her family, secretly planning to become her country’s first Royal Guardswoman. This mission in London is a chance to prove herself worthy without help from a man, not even one as devilishly handsome as Graham. To her surprise, Graham believes in her dream as much as she does, which makes it harder to resist kissing him…and falling in love. But how can she risk her heart if her future lies an ocean away? 

Jane Austen meets The Princess and the Frog For as long as Prairie can remember, living in paradise has been boring. Her days are filled with helping at her family's resort, sewing, daydreaming, and observing fashionable guests from the sidelines. But when a fairytale-Esque opportunity arises, she does something out of character and agrees to marry a man she's never met. Suddenly, she's navigating a new life that is a world and an ocean away from everything she's ever known. Her new husband, Wright, is decidedly Mr. Wrong. If there's a schedule, he'll ignore it. If there is a rule, he'll break it. If there's a risk, he'll take it. Has the girl who has always had a plan finally met her match? If you're a fan of TV shows like 'Vanity Fair', 'Bridgerton' and 'The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina' or enjoy reading comedies of manners, you'll love 'That, My Dear, Is Love.' This is a full-length, standalone novel featuring a diverse ensemble cast, whimsical magic, and hilarious misadventures. This is a clean romance with a HEA. Featuring some of your favorite tropes: Marriage of Convenience Opposites Attract Reformed Rake

The Davenports delivers a totally escapist, swoon-worthy romance while offering a glimpse into a period of African American history often overlooked. The Davenports are one of the few Black families of immense wealth and status in a changing United States, their fortune made through the entrepreneurship of William Davenport, a formerly enslaved man who founded the Davenport Carriage Company years ago. Now it's 1910, and the Davenports live surrounded by servants, crystal chandeliers, and endless parties, finding their way and finding love—even where they’re not supposed to. There is Olivia, the beautiful elder Davenport daughter, ready to do her duty by getting married . . . until she meets the charismatic civil rights leader Washington DeWight and sparks fly. The younger daughter, Helen, is more interested in fixing cars than falling in love—unless it’s with her sister’s suitor. Amy-Rose, the childhood friend turned maid to the Davenport sisters, dreams of opening her own business—and marrying the one man she could never be with, Olivia and Helen’s brother, John. But Olivia’s best friend, Ruby, also has her sights set on John Davenport, though she can’t seem to keep his interest . . . until family pressure has her scheming to win his heart, just as someone else wins hers. Inspired by the real-life story of the Patterson family, The Davenports is the tale of four determined and passionate young Black women discovering the courage to steer their own path in life—and love.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I am but a simple whore humbly requesting some frogging with a jealous frankie in a bathroom stall at a bar 😇 (I thought the gif might spark inspo or just rile you up like it did me)

congratulations on your milestone angel!!! you deserve it so much and I LOVE YOU MWAH 💘💋🫶🏻

a/n: honestly just how dare you plop this idea in my brain. how dare you. you know what you're doing... you know exactly what you're doing... like I don't fucking stop breathing every time I see him take off his belt..... ahhh I think I'm gonna pass out (also I never write smut with this little dirty talk, but that was just the vibe. needy, desperate, silent. at least the beginning, what I wrote... in my head they start screaming by the end)

word count: 887

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | join my 3k celebration! 

“Wow, Frank,” you protest as the bison of a man pushes you into the vacant bathroom, “what are you doing here?” pushing his strong hands off of you as the door slammed behind him. 

“What am I-, what are you doing here?” he growled, towering over you. 

Crossing your arms, you scoffed at his audacity, “I am allowed to go out and have a drink.”

Narrowing his dark eyes at you, he shook his head lightly and uttered, “you were not just having a drink. If you wanted just a drink, then you would have stayed at home.”

“And why would you care?” you sighed, completely over his bullshit, wanting so badly to just push passed him and return to your reckless plan of blowing off some steam and perhaps finally getting over the bastard standing in front of you right now. 

His sturdy nose lightly twitched a second as his eyes drifted down your face, taking your breath away completely when he then unexpectedly reached out and pulled you into a fevered kiss. Reeling, a shuttering breath escaping your lungs as you eventually melted into the reality of what you had dreamed about for so long. 

“Because,” he pulled back, hands still lingering in your hair, “I can’t stand the thought of someone else so much as looking at you.”

Instead of scrambling your brain for the right words to respond with, you simply let your body lead and yanked his head back down to capture his lips with your own once more. Soon your tongue was dancing across his as you clawed at each other's bodies in order to get closer to one another. Hands palming the curve of your ass through the thin material of your flowy, floral dress, you let out a breathy yelp as his greedy hands suddenly grew impatient and scooped you up, drawing you that much closer to his warm body. 

Your lips jolted away from his as your back swiftly bumped into something, his stumbling feet haven carried you into one of the stalls. Letting your head rest back against the thin wall, you glanced down at Frank with hooded eyes as he slowly lowered you back down to your feet, letting his touch linger as he did so, gliding his warm palms down your sides and with his eyes locked on yours, gently fiddled with the hem of your dress. 

Goosebumps visible on your tingling skin, your own fingers dug into the fabric at your sides as you slowly hitched it up for him. Your knees nearly buckled as you then saw him sink down onto the cold tile, kneeling before you as he helped you expose yourself to him. 

Keeping his eyes on yours, his scratchy chin tickle your thigh as he began to slowly pepper pecks along your tender flesh and your body fell back against the stall completely. Running his wide palm up along your other leg, soon coming into contact with your underwear, you sucked in a needy breath as his broad thumb skimmed over the wet spot adorning the cotton, pressing down even more fiercely as your hips bucked in search of more. 

Hooking his finger in the fabric as his pillowy lips neared your centre, your pulse impossibly clear in your needy pearl, he tugged your soaked panties to the side and let a desperate groan rumbly deep within his throat as he took in the sight of your glistening folds. 

You clasped your hand over your lips as you felt his tongue began to swipe through your folds, nuzzling closer and bumping the bridge of his nose insistently against your clit as he sloppily made out with your pussy. 

Sinking into the long-yearned-for sensation, gazing down at him in awe, your eyes then grew wide as the sound of the lavatory door opening suddenly found your ears. Freezing up, your knee swiftly bumped his shoulder, pushing him off of you as you clutched your palm even harder against your lips, the summery dress flowing back down around your thighs. 

Not giving the boisterous audience a second thought, Frank simply slammed the stall’s door shut, twisted the lock and rose to his feet. Lower half of his face glossy with your desperation, breathless, he slumped back against the opposite wall and stared at you electrically. 

Your shoulders bounced in a giggle, accompanying the light shake your head offered as you listened to the drunks' conversation and reeled in the ridiculousness of this whole situation you had stumbled into. But when you looked back into Frank’s espresso eyes, it all melted away and you realised just how much you wanted this. You wanted him so much that you didn’t care where it was or who heard. You just wanted him.

Your hand finally dropped from your lips as your eyes too lowered, nearly letting out a whimper as you gazed at the palpable tent in his dark jeans. Absentmindedly, still on the other side of the stall, your deprived hand reached out and grabbed at the air between you. 

Catching your hand in his, your eyes briefly flickered up towards his, catching his cocky smirk before you glanced down again to see his free fingers begin to work at his leather belt, unhurriedly undoing the buckle as he gave your hand a squeeze.

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[sarahghetti]

going to the carnival hcs; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader, the gang's all here

summary: the carnival's in town! some headcanons for how you spend your time there with the boys.

warnings: mildly suggestive near the end, but essentially just pure fluff all the way through. reader is called princesa once, no descriptions otherwise.

word count: 2.0k

moon knight masterlist | all masterlists

the carnival rolls into town—of course you’re all going!

and it’s kind of perfect because they all have their favourite parts.

food

marc is your food guy—he won’t be the one to suggest the funky fair foods like frog legs or peanut putter pickle corn dogs, but he will go halfsies with you on anything you want to get so you can try a lot of different things.

you’re giving this look to the deep fried oreos stand that has marc pursing his lips, obviously hesitant even though he offers no resistance when you direct the two of you towards it.

“if you want cookies, I saw a place near the entrance,” he suggests in a placating sort of way, as though he could dissuade you from trying any of the monstrosities at your disposal.

“but…” you gesture at the sign, look at it! and he’s never been more aware of how much you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger because he’s buying an order for you without a second thought.

“it’s… very sweet,” he remarks after his first bite. “not sure if it’s much of an improvement on the original thing.”

“then why do you keep eating it?” you make grabby hands towards the tray in his hand to try one, and he dangles it out of your reach. “wha—hey!”

“just hang on a sec.” he polishes off his cookie, tongue darting out to catch some errant sugar on his lips before pulling you deep into a kiss.

he’s grinning wide at his own cheesiness before he even draws back completely, your face is burning and, yeah—it’s pretty sweet.

meanwhile steven kind of taps out for this. veganism doesn’t exactly pair well with the hodgepodge of carnival foods being offered, but he will take a good sorbet when it gets particularly hot out.

if he fronts after marc or jake eat something non-vegan, steven will find the nearest lemonade stand to wash the taste out of his mouth. he gets a different one every time, and almost drinks the entire bubblegum flavoured lemonade even though he dislikes it.

jake secretly thinks it’s good. marc fronts again near the end of the cup and immediately tosses it in the trash.

jake has simpler tastes but will try to deviate a little in spirit of the carnival. as long as it’s generally something he likes, like fried chicken or a burger, he won’t mind if it comes in a cone or has a shit-ton of cheese piled on top. is the one to pay eight dollars for a cob of corn.

games

marc and steven will only play the fair game scams if you want to, but jake has no qualms about them at all. you mention that there’s a prize plushie you think is cute and he’s already pulling you towards the booth, eyes glinting in a way that you know he’s up to trouble.

jake then proceeds to crush every single game you come across.

skeeball? he’s getting 100 points with every ball he throws. hoops? draft this man into the nba, he’s sinking baskets like your life depends on it.

jake’s bracing a pellet gun against his shoulder, lining up the scope with the targets at the end of the booth when it finally clicks.

he might not be wearing the suit, but that doesn’t mean that khonshu isn’t with him. you lean in over his shoulder. “wait, are you—?”

bam, bam, bam. three shots, three bullseyes. the people around you are whooping and hollering, but jake just turns to you with a smug look on his face.

“didn’t even need him for this one, princesa, but—” his eyes dart to the top of the booth and you can imagine the god sitting up there, watching you. “what is true justice if not scamming a scammer, hm?”

the attendant comes around to give jake his prize, which he presents to you with flourish and a wink.

“now, is there anything else you want? the fist of vengeance—” he drops his voice down to what you know as an imitation of khonshu “—still has a few games left in him.”

marc fronts again to find his wallet much lighter and his arms full of plushies that jake won for you and just sighs.

steven must’ve read a book about the design behind carnival games at some point because boy is he knowledgeable about it.

it’s a bit of diversion from his usual egyptology, but he seems to know all the tricks of the major games like the back of his hand and leans in close to your ear to tell you exactly what’s happening as you watch other people play.

“you see that?” he points towards the ring toss booth, where a handful of people are fruitlessly bouncing rings off the rims of bottles.

you already know what’s coming but still, you ask: “do you wanna play?”

“oh, no, love, now the rings—” he brings the tips of his forefinger and thumb together in demonstration “—they’re barely big enough to fit over the bottles, you’d have to hit it dead on to have a chance. even then, the material isn’t any help, the rings’ll bounce right off like—that!”

he snaps his fingers, and you giggle a little at his theatrics. the sound always makes him blush a little, and he turns back to the game to distract himself before he gets too flustered.

someone puts down twenty dollars for a bucket of rings and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “poor buggers.”

maybe he says it a little too loudly, catching the attention of some of the players and his face flushes red as he stammers an apology. you shove him playfully, face similarly burning. “steven!”

“sorry!”

the only exception for marc is the horizonal bar game, you know, the one where someone has to hang from a bar for some length of time? it’s practically impossible because it rotates under your hands, yeah, yeah, steven—he knows.

but marc’s a guy with far above average fitness who climbs up walls on the reg. doesn’t even need khonshu’s power to beat it, he just hangs up there, smirking at you as the timer counts down. it’s the easiest prize he’s ever won in his life.

rides

marc’s whole life is a rollercoaster, so he’s ok.

but in all seriousness, the midway rides aren’t really his thing. they’re transported in from who-knows-where, then set up in a parking lot by who-knows-who, and you’re supposed to just let them flip you upside down over and over again while paying ten bucks for the honour? no. he does not trust them.

steven and jake, however, see all the bright lights and loud music and are a little more favourable.

steven probably feels nauseous at the idea of being put upside down, but travelling fast in a circle, or spinning around in teacups? he’s so down. will join you in spinning the teacups to the max or sport a devilish grin as he singlehandedly spins the teacup as you scream.

(will give you a lil kiss on the forehead as an apology if he accidentally takes it too far)

jake sees the crazier rides as a challenge. won’t push you to do them if you really aren’t comfortable, but he gets this spark in his eyes and promises to keep you safe if you ride with him.

what does that mean? it means that he has full confidence that if there’s a failure in any of the safety mechanisms, he can suit up and save you before anything bad happens.

marc is absolutely flabbergasted that jake “protector of the body” lockley even considers going on any of these deathtraps. loudly protests from within as jake tells you about how fast his reaction time is—it doesn’t matter, jake, just don’t take them on the ride in the first place!

the Ferris Wheel SceneTM goes a bit differently depending on who’s fronting at the time.

steven absolutely insists on going on the ferris wheel and will wait any length of line so that you can ride it.

“look at that!” he’s pressed against your side, shoulder to hip, and uses your joined hands to point out landmarks in the distance as you climb in height. the city lights glitter across the horizon, and steven laughs at the spectacle of it all.

he’s probably imagined this very moment happening ever since you told him that the carnival was coming to town—sitting on top of a ferris wheel with you at his side, being able to kiss you at the top.

“did you have fun?” you bump into his shoulder, smiling at how happy he looks.

“fun? love, this is—” he shakes his head. “today has been like a dream. you’re like a dream.”

he says the last part like a confession, grinning, and you feel his happiness when he finally gets to press his lips to yours.

jake suggests you go on the ferris wheel in the same way as when he suggested the two of you cheat at the carnival games, so you’re immediately suspicious.

“stop looking at me like that.” he tries and fails to keep a smirk off his face, giving you an innocent look as he rests a hand on your knee. “isn’t it beautiful outside?”

it is. you take your eyes off him for one moment to admire the view and his hand creeps higher, fingertips pressing into your thigh.

“jake!” your eyes widen, and the bastard has the audacity to laugh. he leans in close, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“nobody can see us up here—it’s just you and me.” his lips move down to graze your jaw, and your breath catches in your throat. your heart flutters.

“I like the sound of that.” jake pulls back slightly to see the small smile on your face. “’you and me.’”

it’s like you’ve taken the wind out of his horny sails. he can’t help but to smile back, and when he kisses you again, on the lips this time, you know that he agrees with you.

the ferris wheel is the only ride you can convince marc to go on; no matter what he says, he’s a big softie at heart.

he keeps an arm wrapped around you the entire time, holding you close. the scent of him envelopes you like a warm blanket.

marc doesn’t say a lot, preferring to just enjoy your company as you slowly make your way to the top. you don’t mind—you just rest your head on his shoulder and wait for him to open up on his own.

when you stop at the top, it’s like you’re in a movie. the neon lights spread out beneath you, your quiet breaths in the cabin, the soft kiss he presses to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and it means so much more than you’ll ever know. you smile up at him and he looks back at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen—like he’s at finally at peace, and you’re the reason why.

you can’t help but kiss him, then—let him taste the words as you say “I love you, too.”

[parentsbesluts]

after a full month theyre finally done . these designs took a lot out of me to make but i really like how they all turned out. more design info for each under the cut

patton: black cis man, he/him, 6'0 (the tallest except for remus*). 4b hair. he has patches of skin that developed into frog skin following the events of svsr. its functionally similar to vitiligo, as it was caused by the high amounts of stress patton went through, but not the same. his shirt was a gift from janus that was suggested by remus. he has chronic back pain (not a part of the design but this is important to know). he wears the bff bracelet that roman made for him when they were young. he has stretch marks around his shoulders and chest.

roman: italian + latina bigender woman, she/he/star, 5'10. he dyes her own hair often but favors stars natural color with streaks of blond. her sword is longer than that when star actually uses it. i fucked up the proportions when drawing it and didn't have the strength to fix it. she had an entire royal cape but he opts not to wear it in most situations. similarly he owns a lot more jewelry than just the stuff stars wearing in the picture but its often not practical. her bff bracelet is in a drawer in his room right now.

logan: indigenous (specifically mayan) agender person, they/xe, 5'6 (the shortest except for remus*). xyr hair has gone gray from stress despite attempts to fix it, so they have accepted their fate and moved on. xe has a nose ring because virgil is a terrible influence on them. the heart on their cheek marks the first spot that virgil ever kissed xem. xe's been carrying around that orange book a lot recently for some reason. xe has stretch marks around their chest, shoulders, armpit, and hips.

virgil: irish (she makes their skin gray just because) genderfluid person, she/he/they, 5'8 ½. he took up smoking (though they prefer weed over cigs) to try and reduce her and thomas's anxiety. it's seemingly working but now their room smells like weed. her rat tails are 100% real. after accepting anxiety she cut off their jacket sleeves and jean shins to show off more of his body. we love body positivity. the scar on his face is remus's fault. they have many anxiety reducing habits such as can tab collecting and biting her nails. enrichment. the heart on his neck marks the first spot that logan ever kissed her. he changes hair color in accordance with shirt. she has stretch marks around their hip and armpits.

janus: french + spanish trans male, he/hiss/venom, 5'8. the cane is not optional. despite having the fashion sense of an upper class victorian man hi is actively socialist. ve claims he's "reclaiming the style". the tree patterns on hisses overcoat and gloves have absolutely no symbolism related to them whatsoever. the eye he wears around venoms neck is made from serpentine. the ring pattern on hisses gloves is solely because its hard to put rings on over gloves, even though it doesnt matter at all and ve could simply summon rings on hisses fingers if he wanted to. the snake pattern around venoms coat is not sentient.

remus: italian + latino unlabled person, he/it/that thing, height is incredibly unstable but averages to around 5'10 most days. it can see out of the eyes on his earrings and right sleeve. the spikes on that things clothing are indeed real teeth. it misses his friends. it wears some sort of weird lingerie under his uniform. that thing ended up getting the uncontrollable hair genes and it dyes its hair in shrimp colors. he wants to dye its hair with virgil again. the chain can be stored inside of the mace handle, allowing the mace to be used as a morningstar. the preportions on it are also bad sorry. that things shoes are sentient and want to kill you. it wishes janus wasn't so busy. he doesn't want to be alone.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Stomach Struggles

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: R struggles while her girls are away, chronic stomach aches are no fun and r just wants her girls

TW: anxiety, stomach ache, slight angst, crying, vulnerability, vomiting

|| PART 2 ||

Stomach aches were the bane of your existence. They hurt and they made you sick almost every single time without fail.

So when you woke up on the day you and Wanda had finally scheduled a date for the first time in months and felt like you were going to spending the day with your head in the toilet you couldn’t help the tears that fell. Wanda and Nat were still on their mission and should be getting back at around four this afternoon.

You put all of your energy into rolling over, gazing at your phone screen and unplugging it you blearily looked at the time. You couldn’t help the few extra tears that fell, 4:30am. No wonder it was still dark and you hadn’t heard your alarm. It wasn’t going to go off for another two hours. You knew there was no going back to sleep now. The pain was too much but you couldn’t find it in you to find some pain medicine that your girls had stashed somewhere in the bathroom.

Deciding there was no point being sad about something you couldn’t change you began to sift through the bedside table’s draw. You were sure you had hidden som stuff in there incase you got sick in the night.

The chronic stomach aches hit whenever so it was good to be prepared. And you knew Wanda had restocked the stash before she left. Nat had made a big fuss with fury about leaving you all alone for a few days. Worried they wouldn’t be there if you needed them.

You were sad when they left but it was nothing on how much you missed them now. Now when you needed them most.

Your finger wrapped around what you were looking for. Pulling out the small container of your emergency supplies your sleepy fingers fumbled with the small lid before it finally came off with a small pop. You checked what was there. Gratefully and teary eyed as you knew Wanda had taken extra care this time, you pulled out the small note. Written in her loopy script it said how much they loved you and how if you needed anything from the box at all you were to call them and tell them. Wanda signed it with a kiss of her red lipstick on the note. Your fingers brushed over the print and another few tears fell. Carefully you folded the note and placed it on the bedside.

Reaching into the box you found a small packet of pain meds and sobbed in relief. Carefully you took the right dose and put them on the bedside beside the note. With shaking hands you pulled out on the sickbags from the small pile of them in the bottom of the box. You knew it was better to have it ready if you need it than not.

Looking in the rest of the box there were three more things. A bottle of pepto bismol which you turned your nose up at. Another bottle of water and a small pack of crackers. And lastly a small stuffed plushie of a frog. You rolled your eyes but pulled it out and hugged it to your chest. Burying your face in the soft fuzzy fur, it smelt like Wanda and you let another few tears fall.

Turning to the bedside and placing the box on the ground you picked up your phone. Wanda had said to call them if you needed them. But would they get in trouble? With the plushie still under one arm you hesitated before tapping her contact. Was it too early to call them?

The line trilled once, twice, three times and then Wanda picked up

“Y/n?” Her sleepy voice came through the line and you choked back another sob but it didn’t work as a small noise came out. That seemed to wake Wanda up.

“Baby?” She asked sounding more alert. “Are you ok my sweet?”

“Where’s natty?” You asked sounding small and vulnerable you dodged the question.

“Shes here sleeping beside me. Baby are you ok?” She repeated, “did you have a nightmare my love?” She asked with a soft voice.

“N-no.” You hated that your voice shook and let out another small sob.

“Is it your tummy baby girl?” Wanda asked now waking up nat who would be mad if she missed a chance to talk to you. Nat grumbled and threw a hand over her eyes. Wanda nudged her side and covered the phone receiver.

“Its Y/n/n she doesn’t feel good.” Wanda said and nat sat bolt upright. Taking the phone from Wanda.

“Y/n? Are you ok my love?” She said her voice slightly sleepy but still alert.

“N-natty?” You asked.

“Yes baby I’m here.” She cooed.

“H-hurts.” You said.

“Oh baby where does it hurt my love?” Wanda asked and you realised you were on speaker.

“S-stomach a-and head.” You muttered brokenly. You heard shuffling on the other side.

“W-wands whats g-going on a-are you guys o-ok?” You asked.

“We’re fine baby natty’s packing the bags, the missions basically over they can send a relief team, our girl needs us fury can shove it u-“

“Baby lets go. Ill call fury on the way.” nat cut her off making you giggle.

“N-no i-i-ill be ok. Y-you don’t need to come b-back.” Wanda frowned.

“Baby we want to make sure your ok. You don’t have to do it all by yourself anymore sweets natty and i are here now.” She said frowning deeper as your didn’t respond.

You wanted to, you really did. You wanted to tell her how much you owed her and nat but the nausea peaked, and you found yourself leaning forward and dropping the phone as you clumsily pulled the sickbag under you chin and gaged.

“Baby?” Wanda’s voice came through the phone that was where in the sheets.

Nat was by her side and mimicked the sentiment.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” She said sounding urgent. All they were met with were the sounds of you being sick as you threw up into the sick bag.

If they weren’t worried before they were now.

“Oh sweetheart.” Wands cooed. “Its ok. Your ok” she hushed knowing how much you hated being sick.

“Baby we’ll be there soon ok? Stay on the phone with us.” You merely sobbed in response as you gagged again into the bag. Your tiny whimpers broke Nat’s heart.

“Screw this.” Nat said and Wanda raised an eyebrow “I’m calling tony to send us a jet it’ll be way faster.” Wanda nodded and return her attention to you.

“Crap baby my phones gonna die. We haven’t been able to charge them. I want you to keep track of how often your sick and natty and i will be home soon. I lov-“ the phone cut out and the beep told you the line was dead.

You sobbed and stood on shaky legs to dispose of the sickbag. Your head swam and you sat back down.

“Bad idea” you muttered and put the gross bag into the small bin by the bed, unable to full get rid of it.

Pulling the sheets up exhaustion hit and you tried to go back to sleep. After tossing and turning for about a half hour the nausea was back again. You quickly pulled out another bag and threw up again. After another few bouts of dry heaving you were throwing up again. With you head in the bag you didn’t see the door open. Unaware of another presence in the room until a warm hand was rubbing circles on your back. You flinched away and dry heaved again through the sobs.

“Oh baby its ok we’re here now.” You felt the bed dip on either-side and almost cried as you realised they were here. They were back.

When you were done you carefully set the bag in the bin and nat raised an eyebrow at the sickbags in the bin, as you threw yourself into their arms.

“Oof” nat said and wrapped her arms around you anyway.

“Oh baby it’s ok” Wanda said taking you from nat and rocking you back and forth in her arms. “How many times my sweet.”

With a small voice you replied “two.” Wanda sucked a breath in.

“And why are they still here?” Nat said looking at the sickbags and earning a glare from Wanda who was also curious.

“Couldn’t get up. Lightheaded. Thought was gonna pass out” you said snuggling into Wanda’s chest and missing the two girls exchanged worried looks.

“Baby are you feeling anything else? Do you feel warm at all?” She said pulling you back slightly and laying a hand on your forehead. You had your eyes closed but hummed at the skin to skin contact.

“Does she?” Nat asked

“No. She feels fine.” Wanda said and you snuggled back into her.

“Let’s just hope it what it normally is and nothing more or we’ll have to see Bruce.” Nat said standing up and taking the bin away to dispose of them properly.

“Baby have you had anything since you were sick?” You shook your head against Wanda’s neck and she sighed. Pulling you close she swung her legs onto the bed and positioned herself against the headboard with you still in her lap. She picked up the pepto ignoring your whines she made you take it followed by pain meds.

“You did so well my sweet.” She said as you gaged at the taste. “Shh shh shh.” She said ready with the sick bag. Luckily you weren’t sick this time and so she pulled you close again and hummed a soft tune.

“Go to sleep baby I’ll be here when you wake up. Natty and i will take care of you now sleep bubs.”

And you did.

A/N Anyone want a part 2? Imma write a part 2 anyways…

MASTERLIST

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ooh how abut number '11. toothpaste kisses' for soft prompts! Love your writing

Send me soft prompts! Ao3 collection post here!

Eddie is going to make everyone late.

Look: he really thinks most of it isn't his fault. He'd covered for somebody on B shift Tuesday, so he'd only had 24 hours off and he'd had to sleep through a good chunk of it, so laundry went a little by the wayside, leading to him tossing a frantic load into the washer at 5 am when he realized he had no clean work clothes. And, again, he’d covered that Tuesday shift after a 12 hour on Monday, so it’s reasonable that he forgot how dire the toothpaste situation was. The look Chris had given him when he said they needed to run to the store right now at bright and early 6 am would have withered a lesser soul, so at 6:04 Eddie, still in sweatpants and wearing ratty old slides is running down the block solo to grab whatever they have at the nearest corner store. He winces as he grabs the baking soda kind (Chris hates it) and books it back to the house, trying to breathe through the waves of oh god I’m a terrible father who left my kid alone and forgot about dental hygiene.

The house is considerably more crowded when he gets back to it. First, Chimney is lugging a dresser up the front stairs.

“What- hey- what-“ Eddie grabs the bottom of the thing, hastily shoving the toothpaste in his pocket. “What’s this?”

Chim tilts his head at him. “We were getting rid of it and you said you could use a new dresser, remember? I texted you I was coming to drop it off.”

Eddie’s phone is probably dinging away uselessly on his bedside table. “Right, yeah, sorry. There was a toothpaste emergency. Uh, thank you, we can just-“

Before he can come up with some way to finish that sentence, Carla opens the door. He hadn’t even seen her car, shit, he hopes there’s no calls right away when they get to work because he’s clearly not slept enough and should lay down again as soon as possible.

“Oh!” She says, surprised and cheerful. “Why don’t you bring that into the living room. I put your clothes in the dryer, Eddie, I figured if you were running the wash this early it was an emergency.”

Well thank god somebody has a plan and knows whats happening. He and Chim set the dresser next to a wall someplace as out of the way as they can get, and then Eddie points at Carla. “Thank you,” he says, trying to put as much sincerity into the words as possible, before pivoting to head down the hall to find Chris. Its not a long journey, the kid standing right around the corner. Eddie hands him the toothpaste. “There you go.”

Chris scrunches his nose. “Baking soda kind. Gross. And I don’t need it, Dad, Buck brought the good stuff.”

“Buck?”

“Hey.”

Eddie pivots again to look in the kitchen, where the man himself is leaning against the counter drinking a cup of coffee out of his current favorite mug, the one with the squiggly little drawing of a frog and a chicken dancing together. “Hi.” Eddie supposes he isn’t exactly surprised he’s here, Buck is a feature of their household as much as the mug he’s holding is, but he is a little concerned about the amount of people popping out of the woodwork without him noticing. “Anybody else here? Why’d you bring toothpaste?”

Buck grins. “I think you’ve seen everybody now. And you were running out when I was here last, you’ve been busy, figured it might be helpful.”

Eddie nods, a little… wordless, maybe, a little bowled over. “I’m gonna…” he gestures towards the bathroom and limply leaves the conversation. By the time he’s brushed his teeth (it is the good stuff, the pricier name brand arctic fresh, Eddie usually goes for generic spearmint) Chris and Carla are ready to head out the door. Eddie is glancing at the clock and nervously calculating exactly how wet the clothes he’s about to put on are going to be as he says goodbye, leaning to kiss Carla, Chris, and Chim’s cheeks. “Ok, thank you, have a great day at school, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It takes a few seconds of staring at Chimney’s trying not to laugh face, and listening to Chris’s not-trying-not-to-laugh-at-all guffaws before his brain catches up to his actions. “Oh my god.”

Chimney grins and Eddie shakes his head futilely against the oncoming barrage. "I always knew I was your favorite." He smacks a hand to his cheek and swoons, and Eddie rolls his eyes. "Everyone said it was Buck, but I knew the Han-Diaz love connection was just waiting to happen."

Buck is laughing somewhere behind him, and Eddie wants to see what look is on his face, but instead he rolls his eyes again, harder, and says "I'm going to check on the laundry," and shoos his son out the door before fleeing to the dryer.

Of course it's all still fucking damp. They're already pushing it on time though (maybe if all three of them are late they can unionize against Bobby?) so he shucks his sweats and shimmies his way into the unpleasant cool of his pants. When he emerges from his shirt, wincing, he finds Buck in the hallway with him.

“Chimney says we’re running late and if you don’t hurry up he’s leaving you for dead, no matter your new found love.”

“I know, I know, I just need to find my shoes-“

“I put ‘em by the door,” Buck smiles, and then the smile becomes a grin. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” Eddie says with the right amount of apprehension for the situation.

“No goodbye kiss for me?” He tilts his head, grin thoroughly classifiable as shit-eating.

“We’re going to the same place, Buck. I’m probably gonna ride in your car.” He’s absolutely going to ride in his car, they both know it.

“Ah, so is Chimney, he got one.”

And Eddie could defend himself with the reasonable explanation that he just happened to be standing in a row next to the people he’d meant to press his affection onto, or the less reasonable explanation that he only gives goodbye kisses to people whose names start with a C, but instead he says “You want a kiss, Buck?”

And he’s moving before he loses nerve, and Buck is also moving, laughing at him, so again Eddie feels like it’s not entirely his fault when his kiss lands sort of on his cheek but mostly- it’s mostly on his mouth, which is soft and exhaling a little surprised sound against Eddie. They both pull back but maybe not as far as they probably should, if they weren’t them, if Eddie hadn’t spent the last few weeks or maybe years wondering how he could ask Buck to live on the shelf with all the mugs he’s cycled through as favorites. Then Buck darts his head forward, pecking another little kiss to his mouth, and Eddie chases him for a third, and Buck’s hand tangles in his shirt and he says “Oh” into Eddie’s mouth because the fabric is wet under his touch.

“Buckley, Diaz, I’m getting in my car, and I’m not going to defend you to Cap!”

Even at Chimney’s words they don’t entirely jump apart, just slide back a little, stand more firmly facing each other as the front door distantly opens and shuts.

“We’re gonna be late,” Buck says, an awed little smile pulling at his face.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, a little breathless. Maybe he can blame that on the cold clothes. “We should probably get going.”

Buck nods, and barely finishes the motion before Eddie puts his hands on his face and pulls him in for another minty kiss, firm, a promise. Buck is grinning when he backs off and Eddie is sure his face is a mirror image as he ducks around him to go find his shoes.

They’re late. But as Buck settles next to him on the couch, all pressed along his side despite the still damp clothes, Eddie thinks it was worth the wait.

[tiny-rice]

“Ribbit”

Day 6 II - Jutsu gone Right / Wrong

It’s princess tobi and the frog extremely ugly toad! OOC/ 100% Crack:

Madara disappeared in a cloud of smoke and in his place… a giant toad?!

“Oh no, oh sage. Hashirama!” Tobirama yelled, panicked. “What have I done?!”

H, solemnly: “I’ve seen this before… The only solution… is true love’s kiss.”

Tobirama still flustered over the accident, went still, and then flushed at the implication. Gently picking up the hefty toad, heart pounding, he kisses the ugly amphibian. But… nothing happens.

Tobirama stares at the toad. And the toad stares back, unimpressed.

“I knew he’d never love me back,” Tobirama wails inconsolably. “Even as the ugliest toad, Madara is still out of reach..”

“Ugly toad? Who?”

—

Madara was in the adjacent office minding his own business this whole time. Hashirama had henge’d a toad into madara’s likeness to prank Tobi, and he fell for it despite madara acting uncharacteristically toady that day. (Toad!Dara had greeted Tobi with a ‘ribbit..?’, but tobi was too preoccupied with his new experiment to notice until hashirama pushed Madara tripped right into tobi’s space, unfolding the events above.)

The real Madara overhead everything and ofc there’s mutual pining so now they’re enjoying blissful married life with their pet toad, (name suggestions welcome).

—

I haven’t decided what do draw for the last day yet, but I’ll try to whip something up tomorrow :3

@madatobiweek

[anonymouspuzzler]

oh boy it's a BIG SFM doodle post!!! i call this compilation: Old Man Tweets A Lot

bonus close-ups on those little non-tweet doodles, too!

(detailed image descriptions under cut!)

[Image 1: A large compilation of several black-and-white illustrated Dr. Habit tweets, plus additional miscellaneous Smile For Me doodles. Each tweet and doodle is cut out and showcased individually in more detail in the rest of the post, with detailed descriptions below.]

[Image 2: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "But soft! What rock through yonder window breaks oh no Putunia stop right there put the rocks away", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, wearing a ringer t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans, is smiling with one eye cracked open to look down nervously at Putunia, who is grinning mischievously with a rock held up in her right hand, prepared to throw. Habit is sweating and cautiously reaching up both hands near the rock as if preparing to grab it.]

[Image 3: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Tip-tapping around the room WITH a little cape on, like a gosh-darn vampire", which is screenshotted towards the right side of the image. The drawing shows Habit in a long-sleeved button-up, black pants and heeled boots, wearing Putunia's cape, which is comically tiny on him. He is grinning mischievously, tip-toing and holding up his hands in mimicry of a stereotypical vampire. Putunia is chasing behind him, hands in the air, shouting.]

[Image 4: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "VERY small girl with a cape, just called me a 'walking cringe compilation'", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, in a short sleeved button-up with a chest pocket and rolled-up sleeves, long pants and a belt with an oval buckle, standing with one hand on his hip and the other gesturing down at Putunia to his left, who smirking mischievously with her tongue sticking out. Habit looks lightly irritated, visibly blushing. In front of them both in the foreground is Kamal, looking down at Putunia and visibly trying to restrain laughter.]

[Image 5: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Oh okay so when a princess kisses a frog it's 'a charming film' but when I do it I'm 'ruining our day at the petting zoo?' How is that fair to me?", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. In the drawing Habit, wearing an open jacket with fluffy collar and sleeves over a sweater, hair in a ponytail, is gesturing wildly with one hand and the other on his hip, shouting indignantly. Kamal, to his right, wearing an open hoodie over a sweater, is covering his face with both hands, looking flustered and embarrassed. To Habit's right is Putunia, in a cute little cardigan, grimacing and sticking out of her tongue at Habit, holding a mildly alarmed-looking frog in her hands.]

[Image 6: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Watch this backflip! *does not successfully backflip*", which is screenshotted at the top right of the image. There are two drawings of Habit, both wearing a ringer t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, flared jeans, and heeled boots. The first, on the left, shows him smiling and shouting, stance wide, gesturing at himself with both thumbs. The second shows him having resolutely failed to land a backflip, slamming onto his upper back, legs still flying in the air and visibly shaking with the impact, shirt riding up on his torso and hair flying everywhere.]

[Image 7: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "I just wanted free lasagna and now I have a computer virus?? Why am I being punished", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, in a ringer t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, looking extremely worried and yelling, with tears in his right eye. He is clutching a 90s-era computer monitor to his chest with both hands, the screen facing out, showing numerous pop-up and error windows.]

[Image 8: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "40+ singles in MY area? Looking for love?", screenshotted towards the top-left of the image, then, cut off and screenshotted towards the right, "Well that's nice I hope they find it (smiley face)". There are two drawings for each part of the tweet - the first, to the left, shows Habit in a collared button-up under a sweater, sitting at a computer looking at the monitor in confusion, head tilted and right pointer finger lifted towards his face. Kamal is walking by in the background, looking startled. The second drawing flips perspectives to show Habit from behind, smiling happily, while in the foreground Kamal walks away, blushing and looking somewhat haunted, with an arrow pointing to him reading "suddenly remembering to clear search history".]

[Image 9: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Why... Yes I WOULD like to put on our silly little outfits to go to the grocery store and look at lobsters", which is screenshotted at the top right of the image. The drawing shows Kamal, wearing a baggy t-shirt, holding a notepad in his left hand and a pen in the other. Habit, wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, is behind him, with his right hand on Kamal's shoulder and the left cradling his face. He is bent over so the side of his face rests on top of Kamal's head, with a relaxed, closed-eye smile. Kamal is looking up at him and smiling back.]

[Image 10: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "due to personal reasons I'm hand stuck in the mayonnaise jar", which is screenshotted at the top right of the image. The drawing shows Kamal in the foreground, turning around to see Habit, wearing a ringer t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, left hand stuck in a mayonnaise jar, with the other hand on his chest and expression serious, as if he were making an important announcement.]

[Image 11: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "'Just stretching my legs!!' I lie, embarrassed that you've discovered me stuck in the washing machine once again", which is screenshotted at the top of the image. The drawing shows Kamal, wearing a ringer t-shirt, in the foreground with his back facing the camera, holding a basket of laundry. In front of him is Habit, also wearing a ringer t-shirt, apparently stuck in the laundry machine, sticking out of the round front-facing door from the waist up. He has a slightly manic grin as if desperately trying to act natural, posing with one elbow on the ground, hand behind his head, and the other bent to rest on his hip.]

[Image 12: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "*slipping the waiter a four dollar bill* Mix my salad WITH my coffee thank you very much". The drawing shows Kamal (left, sitting in a chair) and Habit (right, sitting in a booth seat) at a table, apparently at a restaurant. There is a waiter standing between them, writing on a notepad held in their left hand; they are wearing a vest and long-sleeved button-up and have a short haircut with long bangs on the right side of their face. Habit, wearing a long-sleeved button-up, is smiling confidently at the waiter, tongue sticking out, as he slides a bill across the table towards the waiter. Kamal, visibly flustered, is hiding behind a menu held in both hands, with his elbows propped up on the table.]

[Image 13: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "What's your favorite thing about me don't lie (angry frowny face)", which is screenshotted at the top right of the image. The drawing shows Kamal, wearing a t-shirt and holding a toothbrush in his left hand, looking startled as shadow-Habit suddenly looms up behind him.]

[Image 14: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Pilot the Puppet, Kamal. Or Boris will have to do it again.", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, wearing a bulky sweater, flared pants and heeled boots, lying back on a couch with his legs over one of the arms. His left arm is folded over his torso while the right holds up puppet-Habit; he has his head turned away into the sofa, left eye cracked open, apparently "playing dead". Kamal is standing behind the couch, staring down at Habit with an amused expression as puppet-Habit caresses his cheek.]

[Image 15: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweets (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Anyone else eat their smoothie by dipping their entire hand in the cup and licking it off?", screenshotted on the top left of the image, and the follow-up "The people love when I post Relatable Content", screenshotted towards the right. There is a drawing for each tweet; the first shows Habit, hair in a ponytail and wearing a frilly tank top that exposes his stomach, speaking nonchalantly into a flip phone in his right hand, dunking his left into a smoothie held in Kamal's right hand. Kamal, also wearing a tank top and holding a second smoothie in his left, stares at this in horror. The second drawing shows Habit licking the smoothie off his hand with a smug grin, with a speech bubble coming out of the phone showing a bunch of heart symbols and smiley faces. Kamal, still holding both smoothies, just looks up at Habit in continued horror and disbelief.]

[Image 16: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweets (transcribed minus spelling errors) "At the parent teacher conference. Trying to keep a straight face and not to let on that I have a half-dozen angry squirrels nesting in my hair", screenshotted towards the top left of the image, and the follow-up, "It's not my fault that I am naturally charismatic and also I style my hair with peanut oil", screenshotted towards the right. There is a drawing for each tweet; the first shows Habit, left, and Kamal, right, both sitting in front of a teacher's desk in the foreground. Habit is wearing a short-sleeved button-up with a large tie, flared pants and heeled boots, sitting with right leg crossed over his left and hands clasped tightly over his knee. He has a tight smile and nervous expression, visibly shaking, with a few squirrels peeking out of his hair. Kamal is wearing a short-sleeved button-up under an argyle sweater vest, with baggy pants and sneakers. He is holding a paper in his right hand, the left resting on his knee, and looking over at Habit in concern. The second image shows a frustrated-looking Kamal shoving both arms into Habit's hair to try and shake out the squirrels, who are jumping out in all directions. Habit is flailing his limbs and yelling as this happens.]

[Image 17: A colored, illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "I care about you and. I hope you can tell", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, seen from behind, wearing a light-blue long-sleeve button up and dark pants, crouched over Kamal, who has fallen asleep on the couch. Kamal is wearing a baggy green t-shirt and is lying on his stomach, left arm dangling off the couch holding a stack of papers, the right partially underneath him, bent at the elbow, hand resting limply over his face. There is a blue pillow behind him on the sofa. Habit is gently drawing a dark blue blanket over him, looking down at his peacefully slumbering expression.]

[Bonus 1: A black and white drawing of Kamal and Habit, both from roughly the shoulders-up. Habit, on the right, has Kamal in a tight embrace and is kissing him gently on the cheek. Kamal looks utterly lovestruck, with a wobbly smile, the eye closest to Habit closed and the other blown open with a big heart-shaped pupil, and two big heart symbols coming off him in the background.]

[Bonus 2: A black and white drawing of Kamal, wearing a short-sleeved button-up and smiling mildly anxiously, glancing off to his left side, standing with his mom to his right. Kamal-mom has an identical face-shape and nose and a similar build, though she stands about an inch or two taller than her son. She has long, wavy grey hair in a braid that falls over her right shoulder, with bangs on the left side of her face. She is wearing large cat-eye glasses that hide her eyes, a turtleneck sweater, and an open sleeveless cardigan over the sweater. She has simple round earrings, a necklace with two round charms, and a simple nose stud. She has a neutral smile with wrinkles visible around the edges and under her eyes.]

[Bonus 3: A black and white drawing of Habit holding up Putunia with both hands. Habit is wearing a long-sleeved button-up and has a big, slightly worried smile, exposing the gaps and chips in his teeth. Putunia is kicking her legs out and holding up both fists, and has a delighted, open-mouthed grin, exposing her own missing teeth.]

[Bonus 4: A black and white drawing of Kamal, posing with one hand on his hip and the other on his chin, one knee slightly bent, smirking confidently. He is wearing suit pants and a matching, open jacket with only his binder underneath, as well as heeled boots. The pants have flared, frilly edges and a belt with a round decorative buckle, with the jacket has embroidered cuffs and hem.]

[Bonus 5: A black and white drawing of Kamal with his hair in a ponytail, tilting his head to one side with a wide, silly smile, sticking his tongue out. He is wearing a v-neck shirt with the sleeves rolled up past the elbow, with the cut low enough to expose a bit of chest hair.]

[bjornensuckler]

Obey me! Silly little headcannons

Nightbringer has made me so so so sad, so I'm making silly little headcannons for the original timeline to make me happier :,)

When Leviathan has to go to RAD, he spends most of his free time in the back corner of the library with Satan and reads Manga

When Solomon is very stressed or overworked, he likes to have green tea with honey (Sometimes Luke brings it to him if he stays in his room for too long)

Mammon does little dances with his hands when he's walking somewhere if there's no one around

Sometimes, when Lucifer is listening to his records, he imagines himself dancing with MC and ends up having to turn it off cause he's too distracted

Asmo listens to screamo when he's by himself (occasionally with MC)

When Beelzebub is watching a movie with MC, he'll hold their hand and encourage them to lean against him

Belphegor has Crossy road on his phone but gets unreasonably frustrated with it causing him to play it for around a week before ignoring it for months only to replay the cycle

Barbatos kisses MC's knuckles on both of their hands everytime he greets them

Diavolo will occasionally attempt to learn about devildom internet culture only to go to Barbatos and ask him what it all means

Siemon really enjoys drawing wand will sketch little birds in his note books

Luke has secret handshakes with Simeon and Solomon (wants to make one with Barbatos but is too scared to ask)

Mephistopheles frequently listens to Beyoncé and Lady Gaga

Once Thirteen had found out what crazy frog was, she played it on repeat to try and get Solomon to leave (It is still stuck in her head and she hums it a lot)

Raphael once got a mood ring as a present from Luke and would stare at it for hours out of confusion (He'd be like 'But I'm not angry?? What is this trickery??') It's in a locked draw now

The House of Lamentation has bi-weekly hot chocolate night where everyone sits in the living room together with hot chocolates (Satan does little designs for them, and purposefully messes up Lucifer's)

Purgatory House has movie night Fridays where any of Solomon's choices have to be checked first cause he keeps recommending horror movies

Diavolo wants to have weekly events like that but never has much time so he settles on bi-weekly wednesday tea times with Barbatos, MC , and occasionally Lucifer

MC has clothes, toothbrushes, etc, at both Purgatory house and the Demon Lord's Castle cause of how much they stay over

Oki Doki, that is it for now!! I think I'm finally gonna start posting stuff so hello everyone!! Can someone also please tell me how to do that 'under the cut' stuff?? I wanna make NSFW headcannons :(

[diazsdimples]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

Wasn't initially going to do this cause I'm up north with my husband while he gets surgery but then I decided fuck him! He'll survive without me for a second. (for legal reasons, I am joking)

This is another Musican AU snippet, set just before the last snippet and is just before their first kiss

Tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @hippolotamus thanks friends!

It's just as Eddie checks his watch, realising the time, that Buck suggests something. He’s holding his cello out in front of him by the neck, letting it twirl around on it’s spike like some kind of wooden ballerina and his eyes suddenly light up. Eddie can almost see the lightbulb flicker on in his brain.

“Hey, do you wanna try playing it? I can teach you?”

Eddie looks at it cautiously. “Are you sure? I won’t break it?”

Buck waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, they’re sturdy. Go on, I’ll show you what to do.”

Eddie sets his horn down and apprehensively takes the cello from Buck. It feels weird, too big and clunky for his liking. Buck gets up from his chair and kneels in front of Eddie.

“Spike’s too long for you” he mumbles as he fiddles with a knob at the base of the cello. Suddenly the instrument is shooting downwards and Eddie clamps his legs together to stop it from hitting the ground. “Ah, much better” Buck says, and he tightens the knob. The cello slots comfortably between Eddie’s legs and he lets the body rest against his chest, the scroll and tuning pegs lightly brushing his ear.

Buck hands him the bow and Eddie awkwardly closes his fist around it. It doesn’t look right, and Eddie knows he’s not holding it properly but he’s got no clue what else to do.

Buck lets out a small chuckle as he glances at Eddie’s grip and he moves again so he’s standing behind Eddie, leaning over his shoulder. “Here, let me”.

Suddenly, Buck’s hand is enveloping Eddie’s and he’s tugging at Eddie’s fingers, moving them into position. His hand is warm and firm as he guides Eddie’s fingers into the correct position. Eddie’s thumb is now tucked between the hair of the bow and the wood and his other fingers are curled around what he now knows is called the frog. Buck smooths Eddie’s fingers down so he’s not gripping the bow so hard.

“You gotta let it balance between your thumb, pointer and middle fingers. The others are just for support” he says and Eddie can feel the rumble of his chest against his back as he talks.

Eddie swallows thickly. “I think I’ve got it” he croaks but Buck doesn’t remove his hand. Instead, he directs Eddie to bring the bow against the strings, reaching around behind Eddie to curl his left hand around the finger board. With gentle precision, Buck guides Eddie to draw the bow along the bottom string. A low, haunting note is drawn forth from the cello and Eddie shivers. Buck presses his finger down on the string and the note changes. It’s like a throb in Eddie’s chest, humming through his body and making him feel like his veins are full of warm honey. He can feel Buck’s breath against his neck as he continues to guide Eddie’s hand, both his arms effectively wrapped around Eddie. It’s one of the most intimate things that’s ever happened in Eddie’s life. Buck’s so close to him that he can smell his cologne. It’s musky and woody, reminding Eddie of a forest.

Buck’s lips brush delicately against the shell of Eddie’s ear as he whispers, “you’re a natural”. Eddie lets out a shaky laugh and he lets his hand slip from Buck’s grip, transferring the bow into Buck’s hand.

“I’ve got an excellent teacher” Eddie breathes. He twists around in the seat, vaguely noticing the way Buck’s nose brushes through his hair as he turns, and he faces Buck. His chin is tilted upwards so he can look into Buck’s eyes, and he sees that Buck’s pupils are blown wide, giving his eyes a dark, almost hungry look to them. Buck very gently reaches around Eddie and guides the cello to the ground, placing the bow on its side and Eddie never takes his eyes off Buck, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Buck straightens up and rests his hands on the back of Eddie’s chair. His knuckles brush Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie shivers once again.

“Maybe I need to come over and give you another lesson sometime” Buck’s voice is husky and his eyes flicker to Eddie’s lips and back up again, so fast that Eddie would have missed it if he wasn’t drinking in Buck’s facial expressions.

“I-I’d like that” Eddie’s voice is quiet, and he watches as Buck begins to lean forward, closing the distance between their heads. He can feel Buck’s breath ghosting across his face and he closes his eyes briefly, letting his head fall forward until he feels Buck’s forehead against his.

(no pressure) tagging @theotherbuckley @smilingbuckley @fruitandbubbles @eddiebabygirldiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @monsterrae1 @housewifebuck @disasterbuckdiaz @watchyourbuck @fionaswhvre @evanbegins @malewifediaz @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @spagheddiediaz @incorrect9-1-1 @wildlife4life @daffi-990 @wikiangela @loserdiaz

[jensensfanfic]

A CONFESSIONAL ESSAY

[or: a part 2 to 'kissing montage']

pairing: imogen heaney x f!reader

prompts: heartstopperweekly's week 1 prompts -> 1: summer break/holiday) & 3: "Please help me with my homework. I'll owe you one."

word count: 2.2k+

warnings: flirting, established relationship, an almost-love confession, reader literally runs away from her feelings, anxiety

a/n: this was written for week 1 of @heartstopperweekly. it can be read as a standalone fic, but i do recommend reading my fic, "kissing montage" first for the best experience. also, idk if the 'essay themes' mentioned would actually be a thing, but let's just pretend for the sake of this fic

—☆—

Imogen flops onto the bed face first, and the contents of her pencil case all fall out and roll onto the floor where you have your own stationery and books spread out into organised spaces. You hear her begin to talk, but it's muffled due to the pillow her face is now buried in.

"What was that, Im?" Laughing, you rise to your feet and plop onto the edge of the mattress. "Didn't quite catch it."

She lifts her head just long enough to repeat herself. "I said we only have a week left to finish our summer homework, and I have no idea what to write for my English essay."

Imogen slams her face back into the soft pillow and groans loudly. You shuffle up the bed and lay down, peppering her shoulder in little kisses to get her attention.

Imogen sighs and then rolls over to face you. "It's your fault, you know?"

"Excuse me? What's my fault?"

"This... I could've had this stupid essay done already, but you're just so d—" She cuts herself off.

"'So', what?" You lift your brows and wait for her to explain the blush that starts to spread over her cheekbones, but then she suddenly shifts. "Hey, come back and tell me why this is my fault."

"Just forget I said that." Imogen slides off the bed and back onto the floor, picking up her book again to find a blank, lined page. She starts to draw a cloud with little lines coming out of it. "Come on, help me brainstorm ideas."

You follow her to where she's sitting with her legs crossed on the carpet and pull out your phone.

"Wait, what are you doing?" She asks, leaning over to try and look at your phone screen. "You're not gonna help?"

"I'm taking a break."

"But I need you! Help me, please!" She tries her hardest to plead with you, eyes wide and lips pouting. Reaching over, she lightly ghosts her manicured nails over your arm rhythmically.

You'd be lying if you said that the feeling didn't send shivers down your spine; make you want to give in, and then lean over and kiss her– homework forgotten.

"Nope." You shake your head, rapidly blinking heavenly thoughts of flicking her hand away and pulling her over you. "Not until you tell me why it's my fault that you can't write your damn essay."

She huffs, and you hear the little thud of her pen dropping onto paper as you continue playing a game on your phone. You purposefully turn up the volume and grin.

"Really?"

"Really." You look over the screen at her and wiggle your brows. "You can't just blame me and then not tell me why."

"It's just a stupid thing. I didn't mean it, alright." She rolls her eyes. "Just... ugh! Please help me with my homework. I'll owe you one. You're so smart and so creative and so good at—"

"Hold up, hold up, go back. You'll owe me one?"

"Yeah, anything." She perks up, desperate to keep you interested in the possibility of a deal. "We could, uh... go out after? Maybe a cinema date? Or we could order in pizza? I'll pay for it."

You drag your bottom lip in between your teeth and look up at the ceiling, thinking, then shake your head. "I'm not really feeling like going anywhere... or pizza."

"Okay, okay..." Imogen glances around her room. "Um... ooh! You can pick one of my plushies to keep. You can pick any one that you want! Besides my queen frog, of course."

You look over at the green frog plush sitting on her nightstand, a little crown on top of its head. You briefly remember when you'd given it to her years ago, when you were both in primary school and your friendship was beginning to bloom into something special; into a forever kind of deal.

You smile, but you don't answer, so Imogen carries on looking around her bedroom until she spots something lying under her bed.

"What about this guy?" She plucks the Luigi plush that she'd practically stolen from you at the arcade almost a year ago. She waves his arms around and pats his head. "I know you still want to steal him right back after I kidnapped him from you."

"Hmm." You reach out like you are going to take him, but then pull back just as quickly. "Nah. I'll have plenty of chances to reclaim him when you're not looking."

Imogen sudddenly throws her head back, and tosses Luigi across the room, making you flinch a little. He bounces off the door and lands perfectly upright in her laundry basket.

"God sake! You're so annoying." She exclaims.

"Rude!"

"You..." Imogen ignores you and she now looks both equally annoyed and nervous, the second emotion puzzling you. "You want me to tell you why I said it's your fault, don't you?"

"Ha, you know me well. Oh, yes." You smile. "I sure do, Im. I'll help you figure out an essay topic for the low, low price of..." You clap your hands against your legs, creating a drumroll sound effect. "Revealing why this is all my fault."

Imogen looks exasperated, but there's a hint of amusement in the slight pull at the corner of her mouth. Her lashes touch the bottom of her eyebrows when she rolls her eyes again, dramatically.

There's also a feeling of nervousness that momentarily washes over your own body and mind. You worry that she might be about to say anything that could cause discord, or a fight.

What if she was about to say something that would upset or anger you?

It's not like you had never had arguments as a couple before. After all, you had been going out for almost a year. When they did happen, it would usually be resolved in true Imogen and [your name] fashion; with a long talk, a couple of emotion-desolving jokes and lots of kisses.

Before you can overthink too much, Imogen groans loudly before saying, "You better not make fun of me. This is dumb."

"Im, I would never."

"Okay, fine!" Her head falls and she fixate on her fingers, starts to pick at a loose thread on the lilac-coloured cardigan she's wearing. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and shy, not like her usual bubbly self at all. "It's because of you. It's your fault because of... you."

"What does that mean, I don't—"

"Ugh! It's because you're so freaking distracting, okay!? You're cute laugh, and your face, and you're so pretty it's very annoying." She looks up like she's asking for help from a higher power. Continuing on, her eyes drop back to her fidgeting fingertips. "Ugh, it's so embarassing... but, I can never concentrate when you look at me the way you do— like that! Like you are right now! I can't focus when you're always so... you!"

You could swear that your heart literally flips inside of your chest as you hear the words tumble from her lips. It takes several minutes after she's finished to say anything back.

"I..."

One word is all you can manage before you take a steadying breath and try to regain a slither of the confidence you had been wearing before her outburst of honest affection. It takes a moment, but you find it, shuffling closer to Imogen.

"You find me... distracting, huh?"

You bump her shoulder with yours, in the space where her cardigan has fallen down to her inner elbow. The familiar sensation of tingles chase themselves all over your body at the innocent, yet intimate press of skin against skin.

It feels like fireworks.

"That's why you can't decide on an essay topic?"

Imogen tries to turn away, but you swiftly take one of her hands, stopping her. You use the other hand to take her chin between your thumb and fingers, and guide her face to look at you properly.

The rose-coloured shadow that dusts her cheeks is now visible, and you find it both adorable and a huge compliment towards you; making you feel all kinds of lovely and warm and prized.

"Im, that's so sweet. And you know I find it hard to get anything done around you as well." You lean forward and kiss the corner of her mouth. "All I want to do when I'm with you, is grab your gorgeous face and kiss you forever."

Imogen's fingers interlace with yours as a small, shy laugh escapes her. She finally replies, tinted cheeks still evident and pleasantly hot under the tender stroke of your thumb. "Really?"

"Can't you tell?" You move impossibly closer and peck the space between the top or her nose and her forehead. "That's why I can't stop looking at you, but I never thought you noticed, to be honest."

"Well, I wish you would stop, so I can get some work done."

"I don't think I could stop if I tried." You rest your forehead against hers and smile. You chuckle then, repeating the same phrase that has become your thing since you began dating. "I really, really like you."

She hums, content. "Hm. I really, really, really like you, too."

Imogen's hand comes up to hold the back of your neck, and you stay locked in the moment for as long as it takes for you mind to come up with an idea, dragging you out of the bubble moment and causing you to pull away.

Imogen's looks dazed and confused, her hand hovering in the air from the sudden loss of contact. "What— Come back! That was nice!"

"Sorry, I just got an idea for your essay."

"Really? Okay, wait a sec." Imogen's eyes widen, and then she reaches for her book and scrambles for the pen she wants; a purple one with a little fuzzy ball on the end. Once found, she rest the book on her leg. "Alright, tell me your brilliant idea."

"You can write about me." Imogen smirks and quirks a brow.

"I— ha— I don't mean that in like, a self-centred type of way. I don't mean you should write about me, specifically, but the theme is romance, right?"

"Or friendship, or family relations. Basically any type of relationship... it's pretty vague."

"Well, maybe you could write about chemistry, like in a relationship. Like ours." You pause for a beat. Imogen's smile is fond as she patiently waits for more. "It could be about how two people can become drawn to each other. How they can feel so connected that sometimes it's all they can think about, to the point where it becomes, you know... distracting."

"Mmhmm." As Imogen nods along excitedly, practically transcribing every word you say into her book, you start to feel breathless. You find yourself pressing a hand against your sweater covered chest.

You try to push on, wanting nothing more than to help Imogen, despite the beads of sweat suddenly adorning the line of your hair.

"Write about how it can actually interfere with your day, thinking about that person and how much you crave being around them, and how much you lo— uh, how much you... like them." You such in a sharp breath, wiping your now-clammy hands on your jeans. "Like being around them. Yep, okay."

You stop abruptly, and Imogen glances at you with expectant, sparkly blue eyes. Her head tilts in the way you've always found so alluring, and she gestures with her hand in a way that says 'carry on' without words.

"Uh— yeah... just write about... all that, and—"

"Wait, keep going, please. This is great." You blow out a breath, and Imogen frowns. "Are you okay?"

Your skin prickles with goosebumps when Imogen picks up your hand and runs her thumb gently over your trembling hand.

"Wait, are you feeling okay?" She puts down her book and lays a hand on your cheek. "What's wrong? You've gone pale, babe."

"Oh... God, don't call me that right now."

You shove her hand away, and immediately notice her mouth fall slightly, a hurt look crossing her features. "I'm sorry, I—"

"No, no. No, don't be, just—" You quickly pick up your phone and stand up. "I need to get out of here."

"You're leaving? But—"

"I have to..." You mumble, then swing open her bedroom door. "I have to go home."

"Wait—" You hear Imogen rustling around as you run down the stairs.

Once you've reached the door and gotten outside, you close the door and lean against in for a quick breath. "Oh, my God."

"What just happened?" You hear Imogen's mother say from inside, her voice prompting you to starting running again.

As your pulse races and your body moves on impulse, your mind reels with the words you are certain were about to spill out of your mouth if you hadn't left when you did.

It's not as though you don't want to tell Imogen how you've been feeling for the past few weeks now... it's just incredibly daunting to think about what her reaction could be.

That night, you don't get any sleep whatsoever as your mind acts like a never-ending camera roll of possible ways a confession like that could have gone; all of the awful, perfect and heartbreaking ways.

"Ugh!"

—☆—

Taglist: @whereimwritingfrom @wqxianwriting @httphayn @imdoingbetternow (lmk if you want to be added or removed to all future imogen fics!!)