#note to self for future reference

[karkatbug]

[oobbbear]

Dolus barely shows sadness he mask it with anger and and violence like a cactus all shield up if you’re lucky enough to avoid all the spikes and cut it open there’re tears pouring out like water fall He only sobs when he’s afraid cause when he fears he can’t mask it with anger it is his only genuine and most vulnerable emotion an open wound that solely hurts him when touched

[hinamie]

9 // 12 // 22 ~

9. how would you describe your style?

hm! i'd say bright, angular, textured, and fairly saturated colour-wise, with the characters in a middle ground between traditional anime and semi-realism (leaning a bit heavier towards the latter most of the time). to go a bit deeper tho I would call my style pretty emotionally-driven in the sense that, even when there is no progression of events even individual pieces still have their own Story

12. what got you into art?

my dad worked in animation while i was growing up! he's always been very artsy and into drawing so when i showed interest in art as a kid, he encouraged that hobby and helped me hone my skills. i didn't grow up with traditional art classes, i had him :') . but i think as for what acted as my first muse and rly solidified the interest,.... no joke i want to say it was pokemon. i would redraw those little guys day in and day out gjhsdfghj even as a kid nothing lights the creative fire quite like a hyperfixation

22. what's something you'd love to draw but haven't yet?

*looks at to-draw list*

fanartist ask game

[pineapplefulfillseveryneed]

Sparks tour 2023 part 4: TivoliVredenburg, Utrecht (june 14, 2023)

Show number 4 out of 5! I'll be putting more photos in this one than I've done for previous writeups as we were in a much better spot :D (I might post some of them in separate posts later on.)

@dinkydiamond and me arrived at the venue super early for this one as it was the only show with general admission, which meant... queuing time! <3 Despite the added stress and additional logistics to think about with queuing, it also added such a sense of normalcy and it was so nice to just hang out with fellow fans for a couple of hours before the show ^_^ (Looking at you, @parts-of-me-unravelling!)

When the doors opened some people made a run for it after their ticket was scanned which cracked me up - okay, running it is then! XD The hall doesn't have the best design as there were steps going down leading to the floor, and the last step was very easy to miss which led to multiple people falling... (The sound of it still haunts me to this very day.) The person in front of me had a fall which was probably the only reason I myself didn't end up on the floor. But, me and Sarah had both made it in one piece and reached exactly where we'd aimed to be: front row at the bannister, in front of Ron's keyboard! :D HELL YEAH! I'd been so nervous about it because this was the ONE standing show! (An absolutely massive consolation was that we'd always have Brussels if we wouldn't have made it. But we did it!) It almost felt scary to be so close. But also extremely exciting, it kind of felt like I'd never been up close before! Hello, Ron's keyboard - so nice to see you :D What we also spotted was that there was a small plastic figurine sitting on Stevie's drums:

(Very zoomed in photo, but look at that little dude.)

We were having some nice conversations with our show-neighbours and then it was time for...

Mr.B The Gentleman Rhymer

I was super excited, now we could sing along and vibe from the front row :D Get a load of big Sparks fan enthusiasm in your face, sir! Part of the things he said on stage at every show was how divided the response to him was, that some considered him the best opening act since Queen whereas others wished he would get off the stage and that he hoped we'd fall into the former category, and this audience was largely really having an amazing time, which I was very happy about! Mr.B remarked "much better than Paris!", which cracked me up. It also honestly was in a way reassuring that he said that as the legend of that Paris show from the previous night had spread far and wide, nothing will ever be Paris but Utrecht also had a lot of love to give :) It was so much fun to sing along to Mr.B's set and to cheer him on from the front! :D

Sparks

Lost my shit when they came on! I mean, when does a person not (it's Sparks!), but woo this is up close! There they are! :D I'll say it again, I love their outfits so much! And ahh finally able to admire Ron's shoes properly! (I've also mentioned that before, but seeing Ron wearing Jordans was a dream of mine for sure. And now I could actually see the shoes :D) Ron was grinning so much throughout So May We Start which was amazing! Russell's jump was excellent which he followed up by skipping around Ron right in front of us. The show was ON <3 (There didn't seem to be an awful lot of space on the stage for Russell to safely skip around/stand in front of Ron's keyboard as the stage wasn't very deep, so this was really nice!) When Russell sang "the authors are here and they're a little vain, a little vain" he stood behind Ron as he did every night, but it was so sweet to see it from the spot we were standing in. (I've shared a photo of it in this post, but I'll put it below as well because I love them.)

We were just bouncing and singing and dancing the entire time - everything was so beautiful and fun to see up close while having a proper outlet for our energy as well :) I'll not mention every single song as I've done that before. Plus anyone who's seen a show knows how special this tour is, and everyone who knows me will know I really am dancing and jumping and singing to everything with the biggest smile, so I'll stick to the things that stood out the most.

Have a shot of Ron's shoes before I continue typing the rest, because let's just admire the shoes:

Beaver O'Lindy was an obvious highlight because the more I think about it, the more it's clear that this song really has it all, but shouting B-E-A V-E-R right back at them where they could see it was just THE BEST!

I was going to capture It Doesn't Have To Be That Way because it's so special and seeing it up close was truly everything - it doesn't matter how many times you hear that song live, it just hits so hard! So I was standing there with my big eyes, camera out, looking at Russell, and Ron, singing along, being totally in awe and very moved by it, Sarah no doubt doing the same thing, and.. Russell noticed this and we got some "I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it" in our direction! THANK YOU T^T! <3 They for sure know how special this song is. Another very important note on the performance of this song: instead of singing "it doesn't have to be that way", Russell mostly sang "it doesn't have to be this way" throughout the song! So we got a rendition that was a little different! (Footage.)

I just about exploded when Balls started and hoped my response would make it really clear how epic I think Balls is and how much I love it, and how much I loved that they decided to play it on this tour :) We must have stood out as Russell came to stand relatively close to us (as much as the size of the stage allowed it) and sang it in our direction for a bit!! (THIS WAS THE BEST) After the song I said to Sarah I felt very tempted to shout "I LOVE BALLS!!" but that I had decided against it XD which we then giggled about and our giggling might actually have been audible to Ron sdjgjhsdfjh

During Shopping Mall Of Love it seemed like Russell was occasionally looking at us vibing and we also got a "YEAH" from Ron which was amazing! The Toughest Girl In Town got dedicated to Sandy and I have never seen them dedicate a song to anyone before. (I don't know who she is, but I really hope she's well.) One of the best things about seeing this song up close was that we now could actually hear the tambourine for the first time, which definitely added to the experience :)

Escalator and Russell's dance had been one of my ultimate favourite things at all of the shows, and we did a little synced up Escalator dance back at Russell. He noticed and smiled! <3 10/10 moment. I love that song so much and Russell's dancing is everything to me. Our enthusiasm during We Go Dancing didn't go unnoticed either as we were jumping and pumping our arms into the air at the appropriate moments :>

When Music That You Can Dance To started I let out some ungodly scream as I am still incapable of being normal about it (it doesn't matter how many times I hear it live - it is one of the live songs of all time). I had been beaming the entire show already anyway but if it's possible to smile even harder, that's when it would've happened. Being up close we now noticed Ron sang along to the lines "perhaps a little jazz", and Sarah said he also sang along to "a souvenir tonight"!

After When Do I Get To Sing “My Way” there was so much applause that Russell shielded his face for a bit <3 (Audience knew how to party :D)

^ Photos from during Gee, That Was Fun :) We got a little wave from Russell when they left the stage before the encore :D

Before the band intro Russell said how they always have fun playing in the Netherlands and he ended up wondering out loud if they'd played any other cities than Amsterdam and Utrecht. My mind completely blanked (despite having BEEN at a show in a different city myself!) and no one else in the audience seemed to have an answer either XD Russell then said “No. I think it's only the two cities that we've done. Or…maybe some other. I don't know.” (I really appreciated the way he said that.) He later on came back to this and said they were informed they had also played in Hilversum way way back in the dark ages, "that's the Netherlands right? We bet you never heard of it before”. (I was cracking up as I've lived close to it most of my life and it's also where all TV and radio gets recorded so actually a lot of people *will* have heard of it XD)

Ron was applauding everyone with a big smile during the band introductions which was awesome :D Russell used the words “over yonder” in his introduction of Ron! (!!!!! OVER YONDER - can't believe I got to hear him say that in in person with my own ears! Yeah, more things I am normal about. Russell says words, brain go brrr) One of our friends in the front row joined the band in bowing to Ron, so we joined in as well. Ron smiled but gestured that it was a little bit much so I quickly went back to clapping.

During All That when Russell sang “hey help me out I can't find my left shoe” he actually lifted up his left foot to illustrate the lyrics! (I love him)

@parts-of-me-unravelling has also written about this in her write up but I am going to write about it as well because it was great :) Before the audience photo Eli sat down on the stage and Stevie then sat down with him and they sat there smiling for a bit - I've been enjoying their friendship so much throughout the tour! When the audience photo was about to be taken Eli dove down onto the stage, and honestly this is one of my favourite audience photos from the tour (and maybe ever), and we're in it!

Someone in the audience had made a poster which was passed on to the front and Ron was the one to reach out and take it! (First time I witnessed Ron taking a gift :D) He had to lean over quite far to grab it though which looked a bit risky and Russell half-grabbed Ron's jacket just to be sure. I don't think I saw what was on the poster but Ron showed it to Russell (see @part-of-me-unravelling's post) and then signed if that person wanted their poster back, but they signed he should keep it. It was a sweet moment and they were smiling so much ^^ Me and Sarah had also brought letters and Russell came over to collect them :) Mine was small so I jumped onto the banister, poking out my tongue and going “hng”, while looking Russell straight in the face (... I am so graceful) to avoid him having to lean over too far. (Here's a video someone took of All That, the band intro and the audience photo.) Things had been so very nice :)

~

I'd missed A Love Story on the setlist as we hadn't realised yet some songs had no longer been on the setlist since the UK and I had really looked forward to hearing it at the front. Eaten By The Monster Of Love had also gone but for the rest the setlist had remained the same utterly incredible setlist.

We hung out with @parts-of-me-unravelling for a bit after the show which was great. Also I could finally buy merch now! (My bag had been too full when in the UK and it haunts me to this very day that I wasn't able to get the poster that was exclusively sold at the RAH.) I got a Latte shirt and the socks ^^ I also bought one of Mr.B's CD's, had a little chat and told him that we'd see him again in Brussels. He was cool with taking a photo. I was a total dork. Luckily he is a very nice man and fellow Sparks fan, he gets these things :)

(A playlist of the footage I made during this show can be found here.)

[queenalicevera]

masterbating in the middle of a mental breakdown really shortened the cry time

[oh-how-i-love-my-fandoms]

Whatever produce you’ve got (this can include some fruits) + cheese + eggs = omelette. Add herbs and spices to taste.

If you wanna get fancy, toast up some leftover rice in the pan first. Get it crispy. Put that in the omelette too.

And yes, I said fruit. One of my go-to meals is an apple and cheese omelette. First sauté sliced apples with cinnamon and nutmeg. Then make omelette with said apples + cheddar or goat cheese.

General pro tip: if the produce is the sort of thing you gotta cook first before you put it in the omelette, season it while you’re doing that, rather than just seasoning the whole omelette when you assemble it. Just something as simple as salt and pepper works.

Do any of u have decent recipes that are like 5 ingredients (not including spices) and take 45 mins or less to prepare i gotta stop eating sandwiches for dinner

[suzilight]

The Sims 1 - Recommended Reading List

Game history

[syndesinae]

juuuuuust started cresting the comedown of a trip and my city fucking announces we're on a watch for fire evacuation. i'm still actively hallucinating. like as i am typing this. fuck me.

[microwave-prince]

Post about the two different AUs of my S/I, both applying to both F/Os!! I'll also be linking this in my pinned intro :3

Story/AU #1: Kane ends up getting hired as a night gaurd sometime after Larry does, and Larry shows Kane the ropes around the musuem and how to properly lock up for the night and handling the exhibits. After Kane gets assigned some paperwork, it's made clear to him quite quickly that he might have some little pocket desk buddies he's going to be getting acquainted with.

On posts relating to this AU it will be tagged with: Do you think..🥞💭

------

Story/AU #2: Kane is a prince with a kingdom that is revolting against him, and on his first night after fleeing, he ends up bumping into some others that don't mind giving him some shelter, protection, and perhaps even some close company. (AU where they are in their respective timelines and Kane ends up bumping into one of them when wandering).

On posts relating to this AU it will be tagged with: Sanctuary👑🧭

------

[alongpause]

i think i don't realize

how fast, faster then slow, slower, slowest the time goes

because there is no one to talk to about it

the loniless wraps around me like a personal time machine

my leg muscles twitch and jerk and jump and skip

i want silk shirts on my skin

there is minty freshness in my heart

when did the time start to skip and jump and jerk

water is like the spring from heaven

so ice cold and flavorless delicious

and it's like that all the time, but i only notice now

in the singular pinhole moment

and it floats away and it's gone

and it never happened

and the time keeps changing

my fingers are numb on the ends in a way that feels like softness

like sherpa-lined gloves

i wonder if my blood is making it there

is the elevator that is my circular system

from my heart to my finger tips and my heart and my fingertips and my heart and my finger tips

i am the line in the book you keep rereading

as you fall asleep

[cosmicalily]

'everything is romantic' with stray kids, ot8 headcanons by @cosmicalily

author's note: bad tattoos on leather tanned skin, jesus christ on a plastic sign, fall in love again and again...this is one of my favourite songs on the album (especially the version with caroline polachek!). i kind of love the idea that romance is in everything, from everyday actions to random objects, i think it's such a beautiful philosophy! enjoy this little list of everything that's romantic in my eyes...

everything is romantic...with chris

addressing you in australian slang nicknames. night drives to the beach with the windows down. buying your favourite albums on vinyl. sending screenshots of song lyrics. matching tattoos. staying up late talking. massaging your shoulders while you study. laying on his chest on your phone in the evenings.

everything is romantic...with minho

cat fur on your favourite black sweater. slow blinks from across the room. homemade dinners and red wine. walks through the forest in the early morning. making the bed around you while you sleep in. closing the blinds if you forget to before falling asleep. hundreds of weirdly specific yet endearing nicknames.

everything is romantic...with changbin

you as the cover of every instagram post. matching fluffy hello kitty pajama pants. referring to you as 'his wife' from day one of dating. buying you every cute trinket or keychain he lays his eyes on. your sanrio stickers on his laptop. his giggles anytime and every time you say something slightly amusing.

everything is romantic...with hyunjin

chamomile tea before going to bed. shared pinterest boards for your future home. sketches pinned up around the house. lipstick stains on the collars of his shirts. a photobooth strip in his phonecase. a red digicam dedicated to photos of you. sending voice notes rather than text messages.

everything is romantic...with jisung

studio ghibli soundtracks while you clean the house. always keeping your favourite ramen in the kitchen. letting you do his makeup. silly inside jokes. writing you sticky notes when he doesn't know how to verbalise his feelings. writing and composing little love songs for you whenever he gets inspiration.

everything is romantic...with felix

reposting every love-related tiktok on his fyp. matching jellycat keychains. freshly baked goods. braiding his hair in the evenings. watching 2000s chick flicks. strange yet wholesome meme references. matching beaded bracelets. at least nine different emojis to represent you for your contact on his phone.

everything is romantic...with seungmin

freshly washed bed linen every weekend. homemade coffee in the morning. annotating each other's books. his hands in your hair while you study. putting your phone on charge when you fall asleep. filling up your drink bottle. sitting beside you and watching you do your makeup. shoulder kisses. long hugs in the hallway.

everything is romantic...with jeongin

facemasks and self-care nights. picking out your outfits. letting you borrow his jewellery. bringing you an iced coffee on your break at work. matching shoes. sharing a scarf in winter. imitating each other in public and laughing at each other. poking his dimples. playing twister on the living room floor.

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢𝐢

𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

୨ৎ 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢

‧₊˚── Synopsis: A year of the baker by Sevika's side, but the baker still has no bite. This bodes questions from certain ill-intentioned alphas, and Sevika must decide if she's ready to answer them.

Word Count: 5.7k Content/Warnings: omegaverse! if it's not your thing don't read it; nsfw, top!sev, bottom!reader, soft dom!sev, reader is referred to w fem terms/pronouns, reader has female anatomy, sev has a dick, breeding kink, brat!reader if you squint, sub space if you squint, dom drop if you squint, blood, reader is harassed but nothing intense or explicit A/N: holy hell. note to self: do not write a fic you actually really like or you will drive yourself crazy trying to make it's sequel perfect. anyhow, here is said sequel after nearly two months! i'm so sorry this took so long, but i truly do love this series and care just as much about the character exploration as i do the smut, so i really hope the wait was worth it! thank you SO much for all of the love on pt. i, and as always, enjoy!

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

Sevika slides into the booth tucked in the bar’s back corner.

In a practiced manner, her eyes scan the room. Over her shoulder to the stairs leading up to her apartment. To the wrought iron door at the front of the room. Left to the bar, right to the bathrooms. 

She smirks in approval of The Last Drop’s Friday night debauchery, settling in like the foundations of a home well-loved. She reaches for the leather-bound cigar case you’d gifted her a few months back. She keeps the note that had accompanied it in her wallet; a folded piece of pink stationery scribbled in handwriting she’d learned so well after over a year of watching you furiously jot down recipes and grocery lists. “consider this a token of my gratitude and an apology for making you stay up until midnight to taste cupcakes… it most definitely will happen again. :) <3” 

Her cigar teeters in her mouth as a wicked grin spreads across her lips. “You boys are so screwed,” she mumbles, lighting the cigar as she glances down at the game of blackjack in progress. “Whatever,” one of her future opponents jeers, “we’re just warming up. Waiting for your ass.” She chuckles through her nose, relishes in the smooth burn of smoke escaping with it. 

“Yeah? Well, yours is about to get handed to you. Give ‘em here.”

Oxidised copper glints in neon green light as she reaches for the deck of cards to deal a new round, accompanied by the grumbles of her competition claiming she’s “just going to rig the game again.” 

She chortles again, blows a ring of smoke out of her mouth, inhales, and, The smell of honeysuckle. 

She turns back to face the stairs again, a nearly untraceable smile gracing her lips as she awaits your descent. A voice like honey to match as you round the corner, beaming when you finally catch sight of her. “She’s out like a light,” you declare, recalling the sight of the girl you'd just put to bed, all snuggled up and holding her favorite blanket as tight as she had been when Sevika found her. “She’s had a big day,” Sevika shrugs. 

It had been a big day for the now six-year-old, what with all of the birthday celebrations that had ensued. 

Just a few months ago, it dawned on Sevika that Isha had been around for over a year now, but that they’d never celebrated her birthday. It’s unbeknownst to most that tucked away beneath all of her brooding and brawn lies Sevika's firmly held belief that every birthday should be celebrated. She still tries to feign indifference to the occasion, but after a long night of experimenting with different buttercream frosting recipes and a few-too-many glasses of red wine, you’d learned that since her parents’ passing, Sevika always tries to do a little something to honor each of her years. She’d finish off a bottle of her father’s favorite whiskey in her darker days, or recreate her meal from her mother’s recipe book when things felt lighter. 

More than anything, her birthdays were a chance to pay homage to her parents. An acknowledgment that not everyone gets the privilege of another year; a promise that she isn’t wasting the time she’s been gifted. That she's using each and every year she gets to make them proud. 

This past year- and for the first time since she was 15- Sevika wasn’t alone for her birthday.

Instead, she pulls at the chain of the neon “Open” sign in your bakery’s window, switching it off as you lay eyes on your planner one last time. 

You tsk, shaking your head and grabbing a pen to jot something down on the color-coded calendar. “I have to get powdered sugar tomorrow,” you muse, “don’t let me forget.”

“10-4,” she replies, sauntering over to you with an amused grin as she watches you chew your bottom lip; something you always do when you’re focused. She leans down to mirror your position, placing her elbows on the counter and her chin in her palm. 

“Oh- and it’s Doris’s birthday on Sunday! I’ll swing by and drop something off for her… she really likes cinnamon rolls…”

You’re talking to yourself. Sevika still hangs onto every word. A smile stretches across her lips, slow and lazy. Her eyes follow your mindless ministrations; the way you twirl your pen with your dominant hand, the way the other taps rhythmically on the cool granite beneath it, the way you click the pen twice every few moments-

“When is your birthday?”

The question pulls her out of the trance she'd unwittingly fallen into. “Oh… uh…” She knows she’s about to get in trouble for not having told you. She also knows that following the trouble she’s about to get into, you’ll immediately make a fuss about making sure the day is properly celebrated, that she feels properly appreciated. The thought makes her heart ache. You already make her feel that way every day. She can’t stand to ask you for more. Alas, she knows better than to rob you of the opportunity to dote. She grabs your wrist- gentle and gingerly as always- and peers down at the watch face adorning it.

“Well, I was born at 7:02 p.m., so technically, it’s in… 42 minutes?” A bashful smile breaks out on her face, her hands coming up to cover it. 

“Sevika!”

Her name on your lips. She’ll take it any way she can get it, even if it means you’re scolding her because now, you don’t have time to make her favorite dessert. So, she lets you fuss, lets you sing her happy birthday and demand that she make a wish before she blows her candle out, and ends up crying over a slice of carrot cake because it’s been over 20 years since someone cared about this day as much as she does. It wasn’t long after that night that Sevika had her realization about Isha’s own birthday. She spent the next few weeks searching high and low for a certificate of Isha’s birth, or even just information on where she came from; who her parents were, where they lived, and if they might have had relatives who might know about Isha and when she was born. You never had the heart to tell her that she was setting out on a mission made nearly impossible by Zaun’s lack of record-keeping; partially because you figured Sevika could use any and all slivers of hope when and wherever she could get them, and partially because you figured that deep down, she already knew it was a lost cause. 

The two of you are folding laundry on a Sunday afternoon when she finally concedes that she may be out of luck. Her shoulders are slouched in defeat, and her lips are pursed in thought as she thumbs over the silk tag on Isha’s favorite blanket. I get why she does this, she thinks. It does feel nice. 

Her gaze falls down to the silk tag between her thumb and pointer finger, and suddenly, she sits up straight. 

Your anticipatory gaze is already on her when she speaks.

“She turns six next week.” 

Your brows knit together in confusion. 

“Are the prophetic visions new? Or…” Sevika doesn’t answer; just thrusts the blanket toward you, and lo and behold, there it is. Written in black ink on the butter-yellow baby blanket’s tag:

Isha

5-15-2019

The revelation unearths a side of Sevika you’ve never seen. By the time May 15th rolls around, her apartment is covered in confetti, balloons, and stuffed animals wearing party hats; all Sevika’s doing. But, naturally, a birthday party for Isha is nothing without a batch of her favorite blueberry muffins, and you’re more than happy to deliver. 

The recent memory of wiping sugared blueberries from the corners of the girl’s mouth pops into your head, and a warm smile appears on your face. 

“She sure did,” you agree with Sevika, placing a hand on her shoulder as you take your seat beside her. “I’m gonna get a drink in a second; do you-” Sevika’s eyes are still trained on her cards as she slides a vodka-cranberry over to you. “You take such good care of me,” you purr, and she glances over at you with a smirk and a cocked brow that says, ‘Careful.’

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know she gets off on taking care of you.

You innocently shrug your shoulders as you wrap your lips around the two tiny straws in your drink. She chuckles, as always, because, “you know those are for stirring, not for sipping, right?”

Tonight, she makes no comment, letting you sip through your too-small straws in peace in exchange for focusing on the cards in her mech hand and the grip the other has on your thigh.

The grip that tightens a few rounds later when the table’s sore loser is replaced by a newcomer. 

He’s a patron she’s yet to come across. An alpha she's yet to come across. It's unusual. Unexpected. Sevika isn’t fond of the unexpected.

She’s less fond of the way his eyes seem to be drinking you in, and the way you seem to stiffen underneath his ogling.

“Mind if I join?” he queries. 

She might have already slapped this man's cocky grin off of his face if you weren’t to her right, already noticing the clench of her jaw that he doesn’t yet know is a threat. 

You wrap your arm around hers, thumb rubbing circles into the taut muscle of her forearm. ‘It’s okay,’ your touch says. ‘Calm down. I’m okay.’

You read her so well that, sometimes, she thinks you might be telepathic. She relaxes under your wordless comforts so quickly that you think the same of her. 

All she offers the man is a grunt and a single nod toward the empty seat in front of him. Her eyes don’t leave him for a second as he sits. She’s determined to solve this man like her morning crossword, and you nearly mistake the soft whir of her prosthetic for the sound of wheels turning in her head. 

She shuffles the cards, deals two to each player at the table, lights a new cigar. She doesn’t take her eyes off of him once. She’ll kick herself when she finally does, because as soon as her icy gaze relents, he’s got questions, and they aren’t about the rules of the game. 

“She yours for the night?” He asks. He cocks his head toward you, but the inquiry is for Sevika; an inquiry that earns him a deep scowl. 

“She’s not a whore. Walk down the street and hang a left for that.” 

“You would know, huh?”

Strike one.

The look she gives him this time around is scarier. It isn’t one of annoyance, of being mildly agitated. It’s chiding. Stony. The look she gives Jinx and Isha when the answer is no, and you’d better not ask again. 

The man raises his hands in surrender, leans back in his chair with a lazy grin, and says he’s sorry, but you both know he’s happy to be making trouble.

“Just play the damn game, man,” another player bemoans. The rest of the table’s occupants are just here for whiskey and a card game, not to see Sevika beat the shit out of some random prick; and they all know the latter is exactly where this interaction is headed. 

Unfortunately, it seems that said prick wants to get the shit beat out of him more than everyone else wants their whiskey and a card game.

“She’s real pretty,” he drawls, looking down at his cards. 

“She’s not interested.”

Sevika notes a second strike, huffing out a laugh as dry as your words. 

“Mouthy, too, huh? Back in my day, they didn’t let whores talk this much.” Three strikes, and you’re out. Sevika leans back with an eerie calmness. The rest of the table has already begun rising from their seats. 

“Honey?” she purrs, pinching her cigar between two fingers and placing it on the ashtray at the center of the table, “You wanna go get us another round?” Sure, you’ll make yourself busy doing that, but that isn’t what she’s really asking you. 

What she really asks is: “Can I beat his ass yet?”

Your sweet hum of confirmation says, “Yes….” 

The kiss you place on her cheek before you head to the bar adds, “...And don’t go easy on him.”

You’re not even two feet away before you hear the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, his cries of protest as she grabs him by the collar of his leather jacket and drags him out to the dumpsters behind the building. 

“New guys,” the bartender sighs, shaking their head as they get to work on a vodka-cran and whiskey served neat. “They never know when to stop.” 

You’re already halfway through your drink when she returns, walking over to you. To the naked eye, she’s completely unassuming; you’d think she just went to take a piss. The splatter of blood on the collar of her shirt says otherwise, but it’s not like she’d let anyone but you get close enough to notice it. 

The blood stain isn’t what grabs your attention, though. Instead, it’s the look in her eye, the furrow of her brow, the small frown pulling down at her dark lips. 

Uncertainty. 

Sevika is never uncertain after a fight. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, your voice low and urgent. 

She clenches her jaw, shakes her head, exhales sharply through her nose. 

“Nothing. Just tired.”

Your eyes narrow. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night. I should probably stay at my place with the girls tonight. You know, make sure they get to Doris’s alright in the morning.”

You nod, letting her get away with thinking you take her words at face value, but the entire point of having Doris watch the kids was to spend time with each other; to be together, not apart. For all intents and purposes, Doris was like a mother to you, and for all intents and purposes, you’d become something like a mother to Jinx and Isha yourself, so Doris had offered to start keeping the girls every other weekend.“Let me watch the grandbabies,” she’d warmly insisted, “You two deserve the break every once in a while.”

That was the point. That the girls would go off to Doris’s for a few days, and you and Sevika would indulge in some much-needed alone time. But now, for the first time in over a year, Sevika’s asking to sleep alone. 

You let her. You know better than to push too hard when she’s closing up. 

But never, in her guardedness or uncertainty, does Sevika neglect to take care of you, and when she still insists on walking you home, a weak smile breaks out on your face. 

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

You let Sevika sulk for two days before you show up at her doorstep with a slice of carrot cake and a stern request for an explanation. 

You’re not ignorant of the drawbridge Sevika tends to raise when she feels powerless, but this is the longest you’ve ever waited for it to come back down, and you can’t help but worry that, maybe, you’ve done something wrong. 

Her face falls when you admit this, and she knows it’s time to let you back in. You sit across from each other at her small kitchen table, her eyes downcast, but her hand still stretching across the unstained wood to grasp your own. You rub slow, firm circles into the back of her hand, the motion steady and reassuring. Exactly what you are to her.

“You remember that asshole at the bar the other night?” “Unfortunately,” you deadpan. “You fucked his shit up, right?” She snorts, her lip curling up into a smirk. She doesn’t need to tell you that of course she did.

Her smirk falters. There it is again; uncertainty. 

“He just, uh… he said something that kind of got under my skin.”

He was already pinned up against the wall and his nose was already broken when he got these final words in:

“You fight like she belongs to you,” he'd jeered, “but I didn’t see a bite.”

To say this got under her skin was a massive understatement. It rocked her. So much so that she felt the ground underneath her feet quake, and the world she’d built around you fracture. 

She realized in that moment that she holds you the way she does, so gentle and gingerly, because she’s afraid she’ll drop you and you’ll shatter. That everything you have will crumble, that she’ll realize none of this is real;

Because he was right. You don’t have her bite. You aren’t really hers. 

“How so?” you ask, your voice so soft amidst the one she’d been chastising herself with for the past two days. 

She rubs her temples, mulling over your question with a deep sigh.  

“I don’t know… I mean, don’t you feel like we’re just playing house sometimes? I mean, don’t get me wrong, It’s not that I-” She interrupts herself with a huff, and you squeeze her calloused hand, encouraging her to continue.

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to be with you; to be around you, and for you to be around the girls… but I just… I don’t know.” She does know. She’s just terrified to say it.

You give her a knowing smile. 

But you don’t fill in the gaps; you don’t finish the sentence for her. 

You’re going to make her say it. 

And finally, she does. 

“I want more.”

Your hand freezes, but your grip remains firm. Your eyes are glued to her own.

You’re still here. You’re still steady, still constant, but you need her to be sure. 

“You want more?”

Her shoulders slouch as she sharply exhales, her brows knit together, and you swear you hear her whine. 

“I don’t want to play pretend anymore. I want you to be mine.” 

You nod, slow and knowing. A pregnant pause settles over the kitchen table until,

“Bite me, then.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but her pupils blow wide and her jaw ticks. 

“If you want me to be yours, make me yours.”

Her voice is damn near an octive lower when she speaks again. 

“And you know what you’re asking for?” “If I haven’t made it clear that I want a life with you, then I’m sorry for not being forward enough,” you chortle. “I want to be yours, Sevika. I want you. Now.”

She stands with a relieved chuckle. “Now?”

“Right now,” you repeat with a giggle, rising to meet her.  

“Right now? Right here? And ruin my handmade kitchen table?” 

She’s bending you over it anyway.

“You seem to have made up your mind already,” you challenge, pushing back against broad hips. She grabs at the flesh of your own, leaning down to place a kiss on your jaw before she mutters, 

“I’ve had my mind made up since the day we met, sugar.” Her hands smooth over the swell of your ass, kneading at the juction of your thighs just below it before sliding the soft fabric of the white sundress she’d bought you up to pool around your waist.

And then, she’s kneeling before you; like you’re her altar, and she’s come to leave an offering. 

She tugs your underwear down and tastes you like it’s worship. 

Her hands find purchase wrapped around your legs, and her tongue works through dewy petals in slow, purposeful strokes, lapping up the nectar pooling at your core. She swirls her tongue around your clit like the cubes of ice she’d put in her vodka-cran earlier. She hates vodka-crans, but she missed you more, and when she tries hard enough, she can convince herself she’s tasting the too-sweet cocktail on your mouth instead. 

But nothing makes her tispy quite like tasting you does, and she doesn’t stop until she’s drunk off of you. 

You cry out, high-pitched and broken, and she pulls her mouth off of you with a pop.

She stands up, turns you around, looks down at you with lidded eyes and glossy lips tugging up into a smirk. “Why’d you stop?” You pant, brows pulling together. 

“Missed your face,” and she’s so dizzy off of your pussy, she’s damn near slurring her words.

You scoff in amusement, pulling her in for a taste of your own arousal. “You’re such a lover boy,” you muse against her lips. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” she replies. 

“Is that right?” 

She quirks a curious brow at the sound of your wicked purring.

“And if I want you to be inside of me?”

Darkened eyes peer down at you with a new hunger. 

“What you say, goes, baby.”

She reaches down to tap the back of your thigh in a wordless command, and you wrap your legs around her waist. She buries her head in the crook of your neck, shamelessly inhaling the scent of honeysuckle and musk as she carries you to her bedroom and lays you out onto soft sheets and silk pillow cases. 

“They’re so much better for your hair,” you’d excitedly explained as you shoved them into the cart. 

“What you say, goes.”

She’d said it and meant it then, too. 

Your hands are tugging at her belt now. You pull her in, muttering something about how much you missed her, how badly you want her.

She yanks it off in one quick, fluid motion. You make even quicker work of unbuttoning her pants, sliding them off of broad hips and long legs, and throwing them toward the pile of clothes already discarded on the floor. 

When she sits back on her heels to take her shirt off, you do the same, reaching for the hem of your pretty white dress. 

“Uh-uh,” she suddenly chimes, “leave that on.”

You chuckle, leaning back on your elbows as you watch her strip her last layers of clothes off. 

She’s a bronze statue, sculpted by the Gods themselves, glimmering in the golden hour light spilling through her windows. Your jaw is slack, eyes heavy as you drink her in. They dart from feature to feature; the stray tendrils of thick, black hair falling around her strong jaw, the glittering scar spreading across her skin like lightning, the swell of her breasts and the cut of her waist, the dark trail of hair leading straight down to her length, hot and heavy, already weeping for you.

Your eyes snap up to meet her own, and when they do, she pounces.

Just as ready to ruin you as you are to be ruined.

You gasp into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. She only pulls away to breathe, dazed eyes drinking in your features. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty…”

She plants a kiss on your nose. “You know that?” Another on your cheek. “Such a pretty girl.” Chaste kisses trail across your jaw, teeth find the lobe of your ear, an open-mouthed kiss is pressed against your neck. “Can’t wait to watch you fall apart. So fuckin’ pretty when you fall apart.”

A broken whimper escapes you. You feel her smirk against your throat. 

“Yeah?” She croons, tongue darting out to slide over your windpipe. “You want me to take you apart, baby?”

You whisper a “please,” subtle as the twitch of your hips.

It’s all the begging she’ll let you do for the rest of the night. Being loved by Sevika means wanting for nothing, and she’ll be damned if you ever have to beg for the pleasure she was put on this earth to give you. 

She reaches over for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand, and you’re already spreading your legs for her. 

“Somebody’s eager,” She teases, stroking her erection and spreading the clear gel over its length. 

“Just missed you,” you pant, all but drooling as you watch her prepare herself for you.

A pang of guilt shoots through her. She knows you don’t mean anything by it, knows you aren’t trying to make her feel bad for closing off, running away. 

Still, she feels bad anyhow. Knows you didn’t deserve that. Props herself up with her free hand, lines up with the entrance of your heat, and vows to make it up to you. 

She drives her hips forward, bottoming out inside of you. You both gasp, and she stills inside of you, gritting her teeth and trying her best to stay calm despite the rhythmic pulse of your walls around her cock begging her to ravage you.

She sure as hell could- and she sure as hell wants to- but just as always, she puts you first. 

Your breath quickens as the sensation of being so full proves overwhelming, and her hand snakes up from your hip to splay across your chest. 

“Breathe for me, sugar,” she lowly coos. “You’re okay.” 

She gives you a soft smile and gentle praise when you obey, her palm warm against your skin as it trails up to cup your jaw. She leans down, body caging your own.

“You ready?” She asks, her mech hand reaching down to hook your leg up and around her waist.

The pulse of your heat around her speaks for you.

“Janna above,” she chortles, letting her head fall down to nestle into your shoulder, “I’m really trying to keep it together, here.”

You lace your fingers through the soft strands of hair at the nape of her neck and turn to place your lips on the shell of her ear. Then, you whisper, low and dangerous.

“I don’t want you to keep it together. Fuck me like you mean it.”

A growl against your neck, sharp canines scraping the skin, and the delicious pressure of the head of her dick against your cervix, all at once. 

If this is how it starts, you can’t wait to see how it ends. 

Your grip on her tresses tightens as she sets a punishing pace, snarling in your ear.

“You gonna tell me if it’s too much?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage through airy moans.

“Good. You gonna remember you asked for this when you can’t walk straight tomorrow?”

You giggle, dazed and blissed-out.

“Answer me, baby,” she warns, gripping your jaw like a vice, the metal cool against your flushed cheeks.

You bite your lip, bat your lashes, and nod with wide eyes, feigning innocence. 

You’re being testy tonight. It isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Out in public, you’re the picture of patience. You never lash out, you never raise your voice, you’re never petty or passive-aggressive. Unyieldingly, frustratingly patient.

She quickly discovers why. Learns that it isn’t for your lack of a backbone, but because you’re patient enough to wait for moments like these, when all she wants is your surrender, your submission. 

That’s when you bite back.

It’s not like she can blame you. She knows you're upset that she all but left you for almost three days, and knows this is your way of telling her.

And if you want your apology in the form of being fucked dumb, it’s not like she’s going to say no. 

She chuckles back, grabs the back of both of your thighs, presses them to your chest, and pounds into you until you scream.

It isn’t long before you’re a mess underneath her. Legs trembling, eyes rolling back, blabbering. She watches you slip into euphoria, and quick strokes turn languid. 

“Look at me, love,” she rasps, setting your calves on her shoulders; and when your eyes flutter open, you find her staring back with pure adoration.

“You okay?” She nods.

“I’m okay,” you nod back. “Love you s’much…”

And her heart nearly breaks. 

She leans down, shushing you softly when you mewl at the feeling of her sinking even deeper into you. 

She’s pressed right up against your womb. You can feel her twitching inside of you. 

That’s when it happens. That’s when you picture her filling you up, being swollen with her seed, and then with her babies; and suddenly, you’re reaching down to rub at your own clit, fingers working frantically, hips bucking desperately.

And you’re pushing her head down into your shoulder.

“Use your words, honey,” she pants, rutting into you. “Not until you use your words.”

She doesn’t let you beg. Only makes you say it once. 

“Bite me, Sevika.”

And what you say, goes. 

Sharp canines sink into soft skin. Suddenly, you’re standing behind the counter, wiping flour-covered hands onto a blush-colored apron, letting her know that Isha’s safe. Then, you’re sitting on a barstool in your kitchen, sipping wine and writing down an updated recipe for your famous carrot cake, because she swore it was better with more cinnamon. Next, you’re giving her a slice of that same cake for her birthday, and then you’re doing laundry together, knocking over piles of folded clothes to make out like a couple of teenagers. 

Finally, you’re curled in up in ball on your bed, surrounded by every pillow and blanket you could find, and the hand that rubs soothing circles in between your shoulders ends up pressing you down into the sheets as your velvet walls spasm around her length. 

The flash of memories is so vivid, she nearly forgets that she’s seven inches and two canines deep inside of you, but the cry of her name from your lips sobers her like a splash of cold water in the face, and when she finds you just as inundated in an earth-shattering orgasm, her own is quick to follow. 

She cums with her teeth still planted in your neck. Doesn’t pull away until both of you are boneless and breathless. 

When she does, her eyes are glued to the mark she left. Droplets of dark red bead up on your skin in the shape of her bite. You don’t miss the way her eyes widen, the way her breath hitches, and when she brings her fingers up to her lips to feel for blood, you realize she’s afraid she’s hurt you.

“Hey, hey,” you quickly plead, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m okay, Sev. I’m not hurt. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You sure?” She exhales, eyes still locked onto the fresh wound as she lets you pull her in to lie on your chest.

“Look at me, angel,” you coo. 

She tears her eyes away from the bite and cranes her head to look up at you with glassy eyes.

You’re not surprised that Sevika seems so overwhelmed; that she trembles in your arms, that her breath comes out shaky as it evens out. You’d always heard that giving a bite can be just as intense as getting one, so you went into this more than ready- more than willing- to walk Sevika through whatever that looked like for her. 

You stroke her hair, trace the strong lines of her face, press your thumb into the tight muscle of her scarred shoulder. 

“I’m sure,” you finally respond. “I promise.”

She finally relaxes in your hold. Settles in like the foundations of a home well-loved.

You fall asleep first. She’s careful as she stands to make her way to the bathroom, where she dampens a rag and grabs a first-aid kit. Her heart feels so big she’s afraid it’ll burst as she gently wipes away at the mess between your thighs and disinfects the bite on your neck. 

She lies back down next to you, drapes an arm around your waist, and for the first time since she started taking them, she wearily eyes the bottle of suppressants on her nightstand. 

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

The discovery of Isha’s 6th birthday meant the realization that it was time to send her to school. Sevika knows it’s a necessity, an important milestone, an inevitable part of life when you choose to raise a child. 

That doesn’t make it any less difficult; doesn't change that tears prick her eyes as she walks out of Piltover Elementary, having just dropped the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed girl off for her first day of first grade. 

“Don’t cry, mama,” you smile, squeezing her hand as she turns once more to look up at the opulent school building. It hadn’t been easy, deciding to enroll Isha in a school Topside, and Sevika would be lying if she said her ego hadn’t been a bit wounded for it. Still, she’d be damned if Isha didn’t have access to the best education there was in the safest place there was, and right now, that was Piltover Elementary. 

You promised her it’d be just fine, that she’d be right across the street all day at the Council’s headquarters, and she promised herself to use all of that time fighting for better education in Zaun. 

She knows it’s the right choice. Knows Isha will do great. But no one prepared her for how hard it’d be to have a piece of your heart walking around outside of your body. 

She didn’t think she’d ever have that; didn’t even think she wanted it, but now, she’s watching a line of Pre-K students with bookbags too big for their tiny bodies trail up to the front doors of the school, and a smile is tugging at her lips. 

You read her mind. Nudge her arm. When she looks over at you, you wear a knowing smile of your own. 

“What?” She mutters, looking away bashfully. 

“You want more babies, don’t you?”

She’s getting ready to scoff and brush off such a ridiculous assumption, but then, one of the kids figures out how to blow a raspberry, and a chorus of high-pitched giggles rings out.

She sighs in defeat.

“I want more babies.”

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

Taglist: @mewl3tte, @tsubiki, @lia-winther, @mommyissuesismypersonality, @hbwrelic, @ahintofchaos, @djstinkyfartz, @sevikaswifeomm, @rareanduselessbird, @livslifeonline, @sevikas-baby, @strawberrylipglossx, @sillylittlejellyfish, @sevikaovipositee

(i tagged everyone who expressed interested in pt. 1; if you'd like to be removed, just shoot me a comment or a message and i'm more than happy to do so, no hard feelings!)

[oh-how-i-love-my-fandoms]

Wanna quickly add: don’t mix disinfecting solutions without looking up if it’s a safe combination first. You could end up creating noxious gases by mistake.

Local house witch telling you to please learn basic housekeeping skills.

It’s not your fault if no one ever taught you but YouTube is a magical place and can teach you at your own pace.

[katerinateller]

Frames per Second/Minute/Hour

24Frames = 1 second 

720Frames = 30 seconds 

1440Frames  = 1 minute 

14,400Frames = 10 minutes 

28,800Frames = 20 minutes 

42,300Frames = 30 minutes 

86,400Frames = 1 hour

12,8700 = 1 hour & 30 minutes 

Over million Frames = 12 hours

[flashbic]

Leaving this here as a little reference for myself don't mind it

[mischievousmoony]

I’m blushing so hard at frat boy James!! What about the first time she comes over and meets the guys outside a party

hope i've done your idea justice! ty for requesting

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: references to drinking, technically american!james potter and american!marauders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"It'll just take a minute," James promises. "We'll be in and out."

With his hand in yours, he leads you through the door, passing under the large Greek letters as you cross the threshold.

You have been seeing James for a month and a half. You never thought you'd be interested in a frat guy—you've never even step foot in one of their houses until now—but James has proven to be the opposite of what you thought a frat guy would be like.

James is a total sweetheart. Possibly the most thoughtful and genuine guy you've ever dated. He makes you feel special, always remembering the little things like your favorite flower or your drink orders at all your favorite places. He's attentive without ever being overbearing. But honestly, you don't think you could see him that way if you tried, always loving every bit of attention he gives you.

Today, he's taking you on a study date. He remembered that you were complaining about an upcoming exam in a class he's already taken, so he's grabbing his old notes and sitting you down in a quiet corner of the library so that he can help you study.

James would already have you set up in the library on the coziest chair with your favorite hot drink from the cafe if he didn't forget his old notebook in his room—which he felt rather sheepish about leaving behind.

So, here you are. James asked if you wanted to wait in the car, but you were curious to see the inside of one of these things. You half expected to see solo cups littering the floor, a pong table in place of a coffee table, and maybe even a few hungover frat guys strewn about the living room still sobering up from last nights antics.

You were a little surprised to find out that it was rather clean. You know from James that there was indeed a party here last night, but apparently they clean up nicely.

Although, you’re right about there being a pong table. But it is folded up and leaning against a wall for future use.

James guides you towards the stairs, but before he can even mount the first step someone appears in the foyer from a hall that you can see leads to the kitchen.

"Jamesie! Back so soon?" the boy cheers when his eyes land on his friend first. His eyes dart to you a second later, and something like recognition flashes in his expression. "Is this who I think it is?"

The boy has long, black hair that cascades just to his shoulders in soft waves, the kind that look effortless but too perfect to not be styled in some way. He stares at you with piercing blue eyes, making you feel oddly self-conscious, which might also have to do with the big smirk on his lips.

James squeezes your hand, sensing your nerves, but he'd bet money that they pale in comparison to his own. He's been nervous about bringing you around here. It doesn't have anything to do with you, or them (well, maybe he's a little worried they'll scare you off). You're really important to him, and so are they, and he's been putting a lot of pressure on introducing you to them. So, this unplanned visit has his palms sweating, which he's hoping you haven't noticed.

"Sirius," James greets his friend. "Yeah, this is Y/N."

Your eyes widen a fraction when Sirius immediately steps forward, taking your free hand to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. "Hi, sweetheart, I've heard a lot about you. Truly, a lot. James has talked my ear off about you so I really feel like I'm meeting an old friend. I'm Sirius."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks but you're not alone, as James' own face turns rosy as he mutters a scolding "dude!" at his friend.

"Don't tell me you were just gonna sneak in without so much as a proper introduction." Sirius places a hand over his heart, a dramatic look of utter disbelief painting his face.

"We're just stopping by to get my notes. We have a very important study sesh to get to, didn't want to delay us too much," James explains, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"I promise it'll only be a short detour then. Pete and Remus are the only ones here anyway," Sirius says. His eyes dart to you again, something mischievous swimming within them. "We've all been dying to meet the girl that has our James so smitten. I mean, he's been going on and on and on. It's nice to finally have a pretty face to the name."

At Sirius’ words, you can’t help but crack a smirk as you peer up at James.

“Don’t look at me like that,” James murmurs, now rubbing his thumb across your knuckles the way he does when he gets anxious. James is sure the tips of his ears are bright red. Sirius will go to no end to embarrass him, but despite the fact that his heart might jump out of his chest at any second, James really only cares how you feel about the situation. James tilts his head toward you, lowering his voice to ask, "Are you up for meeting some of the guys?"

"Yeah," you say with a warm smile. "I'd love to meet your friends." And you really would. James talks a lot about them, too. Always reciting some story about all the shenanigans they've gotten into over the years.

You've been able to tell he's been overthinking bringing you to meet them. You get it—you're secure in James' feelings for you, so you know it's nothing personal. Plus, you were really nervous when James met your friends. To be honest, even though they were jokes, you're friends have made digs at frat guys before because of the stigma. You really wanted James and your friends to like each other, and thankfully, they really do and you had nothing to be worried about.

You hope that meeting his friends will have the same outcome and ease some of James' worries.

Sirius provides a generous introduction as you enter the kitchen. "Boys, it seems we have a very special guest in our midst this morning."

There are two guys sitting on kitchen stools who swivel around to greet you.

There's a lanky boy with mousy brown hair whose eyes dart back and forth between you and James before he directs a kind smile in your direction.

The other boy spins around mid-spoonful of a bowl of cereal. He abandons the utensil in his mouth to wave at you, his other hand occupied by the bowl resting in his palm.

Your eyes trail around the kitchen as James introduces you to them. It's rather large, as it would have to be to accommodate the large number of guys you assume live here.

You've also discovered the mess you thought you'd be stepping into. It seems that all of the discarded solo cups and beer cans have already been shoveled into a few trash bags, which are just about ready to burst at the seams as they wait by the back door to be taken out.

"I'm Peter," the boy with the cereal pipes up after returning his spoon to his bowl.

"Remus," the tall one introduces himself. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," you say. "You know, I've never been in a frat house before. I take it you all live here?"

Remus is the only one who shakes his head. "Not a brother," he clarifies. "Just unlucky enough to have them as my best friends."

"Oh, you know you'd be lost without us," Sirius says, rolling his eyes playfully. "And it's not a frat house, it's a frat home," Sirius says very earnestly. Too add to his dramatics, he pulls Peter into a hug (which nearly makes him fall off his stool) and raps his fist against his back as he pretends to get emotional.

Peter's laughing as he shoves, Sirius off. "Alright, man," he says, swatting Sirius' hand away as he ruffles his hair.

"Sirius had beer for breakfast," Remus informs you to excuse Sirius' behavior.

"Hey, I only had two and I know you're not suggesting I'm a lightweight," Sirius points at Remus accusingly. "Anyway, I was just telling Y/N how often Jamesie muses about her."

Remus clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Don't tease him too badly, Sirius.”

"It's not like it's not true," Peter shrugs, earning himself a glare from James.

You look up at James. His cheeks have deepened a few shades now as he glowers at Peter. You give his hand a squeeze to attract his attention, the expression on his face immediately softening when he looks at you.

“I think it’s sweet,” you say, encouraging a smile onto James’ lips. He drops your hand, only to wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side. You nuzzle your nose against his shoulder, looking at him with expectant eyes. He knows what you’re asking for, and would rather hand his friends more ammo to tease him with than deny you, so he gladly plants a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“You two are sickening.” Sirius leans over the counter, propping his chin up with his hand as he sighs dramatically. “It’s adorable,” he adds.

“Wrapped around her finger, are ya?” Peter joins in on the teasing.

James keeps his eyes on you as he responds. “You bet I am.”

You tear your eyes away from James’ sweet gaze to address his smirking friends. “You know, I've heard a lot about you guys too," you say.

Sirius lights up with intrigue. "Oh, do tell."

"Well, Peter must be the guy to go to if you want to have a laugh. Every time James asks ‘Wanna hear a story Peter told me’ I know I’m gonna have to sit through several fits of laughter before he gets to the end of it," you say, nudging James with your elbow who nods along to confirm your story.

Peter puffs up his chest, proud to be known as the funny one.

"Remus," you continue, "I should've known you weren't a brother. James always tells me about how they drag you into things that you have to get them out of. If he hasn't told you before, he's very thankful for you. And Sirius. I think I've heard the most interesting stories about you."

"This should be good," Sirius says, a cocky grin on his face. "I've given James a whole catalog of legendary stories to tell about me."

"My favorite is the one that started with you trying to impress a girl by jumping into the pool from the roof and ended with you in the bushes after you tripped on the gutter,” you say, an air of sweetness in your tone and a smile on your lips.

The confident smirk drops from Sirius’ face and James snorts a laugh beside you. Peter cracks up, and even Remus snickers at the look on Sirius’ face.

"I think you’ve just won over Sirius," Remus says, watching as his grin returns.

“You got me, I can appreciate that,” Sirius says. “Why have you been hiding her from us for so long, James? I like her.”

"Yeah, I like her too,” James replies, squeezing you a little closer into his side. He doesn't bother trying to hide the broad grin overtaking his features. As he looks down at your giggling face, he can't remember what he was so nervous about.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──