#this deserved proper punctuation

[spiritofjustice]

I love Mother 3. Every time I replay it I find something new. It’s incredible

[shewillbethedeathofpoetry]

I’ve always been an eww-couldn’t-date-anyone-more-than-five-years-older-than-me-girly but now it’s fifteen years and I just know that young me is so disappointed right now like why are you open to dating a 40 year old?

[adrenaline-void]

hear me out, animals by maroon five is just adam levine’s a/b/o fan fiction 

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; gn!reader, usage of honorfics (-senpai once, -san), submissive ish nanami, blowjobs, anal fingering, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.7k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; i dont know what happened. not even a nanami girl. but. i see a man in need. nanami sorry for what every does to you.

It's so easy to get Nanami to bent out of shape.

He tries his best, you think. He tries hard, and he's a good guy. You always feel bad being around him and pulling your pranks and antics. You're not like Satoru - he's told you, because you're much more conniving. Unlike Satoru, who Nanami finds dishonest - he thinks you're too direct. Too plain in your admission, your admonishment, your praise.

He deserves a break, for all the tremendous pressure he puts on himself to do well and protect. to make something out of his life. There's some part of him you feel a lot of sympathy for, and another part that sees him for what he is. A man under duress who's practically begging for reprieve. He wants to vacation on a beach somewhere, but he can't.

You think it's natural - inevitable, that Nanami will give into your flirting. You lay it on thick every time he comes by. he's only unaffected in the brief stretch of time where he thinks you're teasing him. Because he's older than you, jaded, easy. When he realizes there's even the slightest bit of sincerity in your words, he suddenly can't look you in the eye.

It's a troublesome affair for him to have feelings for his junior. It's inappropriate, and he can't approach you in the way he likes. The way he likes being controlled and practiced. He's quite the gentleman. Later, you'll sure he'll wine and dine you nicely as a proper thank you. A man like that leaves no good deed unaccounted for.

But for now, you don't really want to let Nanami do anything for you. You've always wanted to do something for him. Break him down. Maybe it's your problem, since a man with that kind of neuroses always turns on the worst in you.

Still. Still. You can see something in him that no one else does, a desire to forget himself. You can give that to him without trying that hard at it, but it does take a lot of convincing.

He's got the handsomest face when he's embarrassed out of his fucking mind. He gets red. You've never seen it before - but his face is lit up. Pink up to his ears.

He's haphazard. Shirt unbuttoned but not off, tie loosened. He took off his pants but couldn't manage his boxers. You've been riling him up all evening, teasing and testing and pushing. When he finally kissed you later on in the evening, an expression close to a plea - you knew you had him where you wanted him.

So you made it to his apartment, kissed in his hallway, pulled him onto the couch and dry-humped like two idiot teenagers. He can't see him to control it after all your meticulous bullying and he looks so much better that way. Loosened up and picked apart.

He's so easy. It's unimaginable for you in some ways, that your cool and collected senior could break apart over something like this. He's normally so reserved, but you've breached some upper limit and now he's like this underneath you.

The muscles of his thighs are tense as you sit patiently between his legs, a hand on his knee with another wrapped around his shaft. you laugh a little at the state, the pre-cum dripping down your fingers and

"Nanami-san," you punctuate the honorifics "You alright up there?"

He lets out a sigh like he's been holding it in all evening. He tries so hard. So hard. You respect it, admire his endless resolve. He chokes down a sound as your hands grip around the base of his cock.

"Yes," He says, only barely masking the thin veil of desperation in his voice. He's almost begging you. You think you're probably awful enough to get him there "I'm fine."

"You sure? You're red in the face. Been a while? You seem like the serial monogamist type. When was the last time you got laid?"

In an act of unbelievable cruelty, you decide the best time to blow him is now. You open your jaw wide, stick your tongue out and let the spit pool onto the tip of his length. He hisses, almost bites a hole in his lip looking down at you in disbelief. His cock throbs painfully in your hand and you giggle - which makes him look down at you ashamed.

You blink innocently, silently imploring him to keep going. He sighs, an arm thrown over his eyes and his hand closed into a hard fist. You close your mouth around the head, minding your teeth. Nanami tastes like skin and salt and musk, but not unpleasant at all. His pre-cum taste clean, just like the rest of him is so prim and perfect. You dip your tongue into his slit, watching him squirm before taking him down even further.

"Could you please—for the love of—"

You slide off your mouth of to talk. You can't help but want to press his buttons.

"Come on, Nanami-san. You can withhold a little bit. You're so sturdy, y'know, more than I thought. Tell me about your sex life."

Nanami can recognize your words for what they are, because he knows you and the games you play with him. He frowns hard, meeting your eyes and closing his own with a sigh.

"I don't remember," Nanami tells you, honest - nearly biting a hole into his lower lip as you massage his balls with your hands, soft as you kiss down his shaft and lave your tongue over the thin skin "It's been a long time. Years."

"That so? You deserve an orgasm, Nanami-senpai. A good one. You really work hard," You punctuate every word with a touch, a squeeze before he shivers himself into a mess. "Every had anything up there?"

His eyes widen in shock and dismay, but not disgust.

"....A very, very long time ago."

"You okay with it?"

"....Well, yes. I guess so."

"Any lube?"

"There's uhm," Nanami stutters, rubs his eyes like he doesn't know where he is "Oil. In the drawer."

"Kay," You say, casually, patting his thigh as you reach over to get it and return to him no problem. He looks at you awestruck and you look back at him with nothing more to offer "Try and relax,"

You warm the oil up in your fingers first before you pull his cock up enough to touch his ass. The rim of muscle flutters as you touch it, slick thumb drawing circles around. He makes a noise you can't identify, followed by one you can. A moan, slight and quiet enough to go undetected. You grin silently as you ease a finger in, a thumb first then your pointer. Nanami breathes through the motion, and you move slow enough to get him to relax.

Once there's one, you go back to blowing him. He loosens up immediately when he feels the warmth of your mouth, hot and slick, suctioned around his cock. You relax your throat taking him deep, opening his ass at the same time.

It's more attention than he's had in a while. There's an unmistakble quality of lust, gargled words and sounds and shuddering. His chest is so flushed in the bare light of apartment he almost glows. You start with one finger and keep your blowing steady - start him easy with stimulation.

You get another, then another - and when your three fingers in, you decide you have some room to be relentless. Ruthless. You curl your fingers and search for his prostate. You know when you've found it because the sound he lets out is debauched.

It's easy - too easy, to get Nanami completely bent out of shape. Getting him this broken this fast almost feels like a trick of light - his dark brown eyes rimmed red and shaking. Such a composed gentlemanly sort moaning a fucking mess.

His strong chest is trembling as it rises up and down trying to catch a breath. You know when you find the spot because he nearly jerks his hips, but shows enough restraint not to do it. Not to fuck up into his throat animalistically like he wants so badly.

A well-trained man he is. You suppose all men can be a little like dogs.

So you reward him by deep-throating him. It takes all of your willpower and expertise but the reaction is more than worth it.

So polite, he doesn't even swear when he breaks underneath your ministrations. Doesn't cry, doesn't even scream when he wants too. His cock shudders and twitches and pulses against the warmth of your mouth, pre-cum streaming into your throat like a broken faucet. But he doesn't let himself cum, doesn't do anything but let you have your way with him.

No, he wants you to have your way with him.

You pull off and he whines. Whines. His voice, thick and deep, so pitched with need you almost want to laugh. You kiss his cock affectionately.

"You can cum when you feel like it. 'Kay?"

He just nods, speechless. Needy. You feel so good and a little sorry for him at the same time. But you're urged by a silent desire to ruin him at his very foundation.

So for the last time, you let your mouth come down on him and fuck him with your fingers. You give it everything, bobbing your hand and timing your rhythms well enough that your wrists hurt. It's a game of balance, but you manage it - because with even the slightest gestures or veritable movements, Nanami folds.

He caves in on himself, breathing ragged and practically drooling. Poor Nanami, you think. It's just so easy to get him this way, and it's fun too.

The words barely get out of his throat before he can warn you, frantically that he's going to cum. But you don't move, pushing forward and barrelling your way towards his orgasm. You can feel it happen on your tongue, cock twitching hard and he unloads deep into your throat.

You don't taste it so it's easy to swallow, and you swallow hard as you milk him making him pull you off in a desperate plea for mercy.

You laugh as you pull away from him, watching as he stares down at you awestruck and a little afraid. You wipe the corners of your mouth and smile.

"You're so sexy, Nanami-san,"

He groans in shame and embarrassment, still red to the tip of his ears.

"Enough out of you."

[inbloomwriting]

If I had you II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it's the easiest thing in the world. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Notes: This is inspired by the song "a daydream away". It's 5.2k words of pure friends-to-lovers sweetness.  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. It’s a chore to love him, the real him not the overly confident golden boy he portrays on the pitch. Just look at his track record, that just proves his point. Sure his mom loves him, he never questioned that, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her. He’s convinced he’s made her cry more than once with yet another stupid decision. Then there’s his father who loves nothing more than to belittle him and lay out all his flaws for him and the world to see. And if even your own dad doesn’t love you, how can you expect others to. 

So maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t let anyone close enough to even begin to love him. Sooner or later they’ll figure out how much of an effort it takes and that he, of all people, truly isn’t worth it. 

And maybe, perhaps, that’s also the reason he doesn’t allow himself to explore the feelings he harbors for his best friend. He tried to deny them to himself for so long. Tried to pass it off as pure, unfiltered friendship. That’s bullshit though. He knows the feelings are there and there is no use in denying them. That doesn’t mean he can ever allow himself to act on them though. He’d just fuck it all up, the way he usually does with everything he touches. 

The shiny hardwood floor feels cold and smooth as he sits leaning against the kitchen counter, legs stretched out before him. A smile is permanently etched onto his face as (Y/N) talks about something that happened at her work today. He should listen, it’s probably a fun story judging by the way her giggles make her stop talking every few seconds. He should listen but he is so enamored with her that he can not pay attention to anything else. In a perfect world, in a world where loving him was easy, he’d lean over and kiss her. He'd kiss her silly and she’d kiss him back and life would be sweet and it would make sense. In that perfect world, she would love him back the same way he loves her and it would be easy and he’d deserve her. 

But that is not the world he’s living in. That is not his reality. Just a beautiful daydream he allows himself to escape to every once in a while. Loving her in a daydream is safe. It’s secret and quiet and there is no hurt there and no rejection. 

“Why are you grinning like that, huh Tartt?” 

She asks before taking a sip from the beer bottle clasped tightly in her hands. It’s an unusually hot summer’s day. One that makes it impossible to do anything but sit on the floor in as little clothing as possible and drink one cold drink after the other. Even if that means getting a little tipsy on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Nothing. Just happy to have you here. Missed you.”

“We didn’t see each other for a week and you already missed me?”

He misses her the minute she leaves. It’s like his heart isn’t complete if she isn’t there but he can’t really say that can he? Friends don’t tell friends things like that. And a friend is all she is. His best one but still. Telling her any of this could jeopardize their friendship and Jamie doesn’t think he could handle life without her. Not when a week already felt like torture. 

“Well yeah, I’m proper shit at cooking. I need you to feed me.” 

“Oh, is that so? Thought Mr. Bigshot footballer could get free food at any restaurant he fancies.”

She’s teasing but never mean and never hurtful. That’s something he cherishes so much about their friendship. His feelings, his fears — all of it is safe with her. There is no hurt or pain or fear. Just her and her friendship and warmth. And a pair of open arms ready to catch him whenever he stumbles and falls.

“True. But some fancy place in Mayfair will laugh at me if I ask them to make me dino nuggets, won’t they?”

Her laughter, he decides then, is his favorite sound in the world. It makes everything feel alright even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. He needs to keep his feelings locked up in that beautiful daydream because he can never lose this melody her laughter creates. And anyway, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he ever really had her.

— It’s not like she’d say yes anyway.

“You’re probably right about that,” she says and leans her head against his shoulder. And though it’s muggy and hot and he’s sure he can feel their skin stick together, he doesn’t shake her off. She’s part of his heart already, might as well melt into one completely. “You want me to make you some nuggets?” 

“Nah,” Jamie replies and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Friends kiss friends on the head all the time, everyone knows that. Right? "That's okay. Already had a Kebab with Roy earlier.” 

“You guys are becoming friends then? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose my best friend status?” 

Jamie lets out some mix between a chuckle and a scoff. As if anyone in all the world could ever replace her. What a ridiculous thought. 

“Well he doesn’t make me nuggets, does he? No alphabet soup either. So no. Not yet.” 

The little shake of her fist she does in victory makes him grin even bigger. He must look like a damn fool. 

“I should probably get going sometime soon, I need to finish up some work and do laundry and do all that boring adult stuff that’s waiting for me at home.” 

There are lots of things he should be doing instead of sitting on his kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon getting half drunk on cheap beer and half on his overwhelming love for her. He’s sure there are a bunch of texts and emails waiting for him to sort through. Keeley might be popping a blood vessel soon if he doesn’t answer her about that brand requesting to work with him on some ad campaign. And he will get back to her — soon. 

Right now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is him and (Y/N) and their little corner of safety and — home.

“But I don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, me neither. Just want to sit here with you and — “ 

“ — hang out?” 

“Mh. Hang out.” 

That was not what he wanted to say but none of the words ghosting through his head are meant to be spoken out loud. They are his to feel and think and keep hidden and quiet. 

“Good, we can hang out a little longer I think.” 

And he’ll take what he can get. All the precious minutes she grants him he cherishes. 

Right now could last forever and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he’s with her.

Some early 00s pop song is blasting from the speakers of the bar. Everyone’s in good spirits and drinks are flowing freely. 

(Y/N) is leaning against the bar talking to Colin, laughing about something he said, radiating joy and happiness. 

She loves his friends, his boys, his family. Jamie loves that she loves them so dearly, so fiercely as if they are her own family. At this point, they might as well be. She remembers all their birthdays, drops by unannounced with cookies for everybody, cheers them on louder than anybody else. Hell, she even gets Roy to smile and that’s quite something. She’s as much a part of the AFC Richmond family as she is a part of his life. 

“Jamie-Jam-Jam what are you sulking over here for,” her voice cuts through the crowd and the music as she slides into the booth next to him. She looks gorgeous in the hazy neon lights. Then again, she always looks gorgeous. 

“Not sulking. Just — thinking.” 

“About what?”

You. He’d say if he was honest and not such a coward. You and how much I adore you and how hard it is not to tell you any of this and fuck up our friendship. 

“Was considering getting me nipples pierced. I’d have to take them out though and I imagine that would be quite annoying.” 

“Probably,” she agrees and nods her head before adding “It would look sick though.” 

“Right? I reckon it would.” 

She laughs at that and once again it shakes his entire world. Like little earthquakes inside his heart. 

Her voice is quieter after her laughter subsides, soft and gentle, and with the loud music it feels like her words are only meant for him. “I like this,” she says almost wistfully.

“The song? Who’s that, Rihanna?” 

“Not the song, silly boy. This — “ she gestures around the room towards all their friends, dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives. And then she motions to the two of them, secluded and safe inside their own little bubble. “escaping our busy lives for a moment.” 

“Lot of journalists would disagree with you there, love. That my life was busy.” 

“They don’t know you like I know you.” 

There’s a sincerity in her eyes, a warmth, something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and foreign all at once. 

“No one knows me like you do. You had pity on Jamie Tartt, messy little prick from math class. They just know Jamie Tartt, the footballer from Richmond.Still a prick but now with better hair.” 

Before he knows what’s happening, her hands take hold of his face and gently rest against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.

“I never had pity on you, Jamie. I thought you were funny and exciting and infinitely cool. That’s why I wanted to be your friend. And I was right! About the funny part, not the cool part.” 

“Obviously.” 

“But I never took pity on you. I don’t think you realize how highly I think of you. Now let me get a sip of that drink.” 

He’s still in some sort of haze brought on by her words when a groan coming from her shakes him from his thoughts. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust as she places his glass back on the table. “Ew, what the fuck is that?” 

“I’m not sure, honestly. Barkeeper said she’d mix me a Jamie Tartt and I was like fuck yeah, a drink named after me.”

“It’s disgusting. Did you shag and dump her at some point? Like, is she mad at you for some reason?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman before in my life … so yeah maybe.” 

Shaking her head with a smirk on her face she grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him out of the booth and towards the bar on the other side of the place, the one with the older male bartender with the impressive beard.

“You ever had a thing with him?” she asks as she leans against the counter, trying to get the man’s attention.

“Nah, I’d remember that facial hair.” 

From then on the night tastes like tequila and beer and it feels like a warm hug. She doesn’t join in on all his drinks, stops herself after a beer and a shot, but she does join him in all the other shenanigans. Like when they make up ridiculous backstories for strangers and have a laugh about some corporate douchebag trying desperately to get with some woman who clearly has no interest in him. 

“Henry from accounting.”

“Nah, that’s Charlie from HR.” 

“Well, either way, Maisie from South Shields is not interested.” 

He could stay here forever, laugh the night away. Drunk on happiness, on love — and also on quite a lot of booze. 

“Come on, Jamie-Jam, “ she says and hands him his jacket. She’s all gentle hands and gentle eyes. “Let me give you a ride home.” 

“We’re going home?”

“I think it’s time. Think someone had a little too much.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He is but also not. He’s sorry for being a burden — again. He’s not sorry for letting himself enjoy a night of unadulterated happiness with the people that mean the most to him.

“No need to apologize, Jamie. I’m glad you had fun. Now come on, silly boy. I’m tired.”

And when they step out of the place and into the night, all sweaty and hair a mess, he thinks that of all the things his eyes have ever seen, the best by far is her. Then and always. 

London passes by in a blur as (Y/N) drives them towards his house. All the bougie buildings and the iron fences and the trees in the parks, it’s all one kaleidoscope of color, a smudge of light and shadows. 

It’s not like he can really focus on that though. Partly because all he can think of is her and partly because he’s absolutely wasted. Mostly her though. Definitely mostly her.

“Did you have a good time?” his voice slices through the comfortable silence.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, silly boy. Did you?” 

He rests his cheek against the smooth leather of her car seats and regards her with an infinite sense of wonder and adoration. In any other situation, this position would be deeply uncomfortable but he’s numb to anything but the beating of his heart and the strings that pull him towards his best friend.

“Obviously. Had my best girl with me. “

“Keeley?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “Keeley? No you numpty, you!” 

“Me?”

“Why would you think I was talking about Keeley?”

He wishes he could see the look on her face. This is not a car conversation. 

“Uh, she’s the only real adult relationship you ever had and you had a poster of her on your wall. Makes one think things. In fact, I believe that poster is still up.”

Jamie can’t help but scoff at her words. Not in a dismissive way necessarily but this whole conversation seems so silly to him. Yeah, he loved Keeley in a way and yeah she’s still one of his best friends but never has she come close to (Y/N). Keeley hardly ever got to see the real Jamie, the one that didn’t hide behind this larger-than-life footballer persona. (Y/N) met him before that persona even existed.

“Stop thinking things then. You’re my best girl, always.”

He still can’t see her face since she is looking at the road in front of them, but he can see the smile pulling the corner of her lips upwards, and for the moment that’s good enough for him.

Her car comes to a stop in front of Jamie's house but while he drags himself out of his seat, she stays put. 

“What are you doing, love?” 

“Dropping you off?” 

“Are you not coming inside then?” 

“Do you want me to come inside? We spent pretty much all week with each other, I thought you might be sick of me by now.” 

A ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one. He could never get sick of her. They could be glued to each other for the rest of eternity and he wouldn’t mind one bit. 

Even in his drunk state of mind though, he realizes that’s not something he can tell her. That crosses out of friend territory. So he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Do I want you to come in? What a dumb question is that? Of course, I do. I have a bag of those disgusting spicy crisps waiting for you in my kitchen.”

“In that case —” 

10 minutes later they’re sitting on his couch, her legs across his lap, munching away at those god-awful crisps as some overly dramatic American home renovation show flickers across the TV screen. 

In moments like these, love lives here. In these walls and on this couch. And it’s terrifying because thinking about love also makes him think of the possibility of losing it. But every once in a while, Jamie lets himself feel a tiny bit of it. Just enough to keep him going. 

“Hey Jamie,” she speaks up, her face only illuminated by the light coming from the TV. She’s wearing his shirt and he wills himself not to focus too hard on that because that will cause images to ghosts through his mind that he can’t allow himself to ever think about. Images that cross every line ever drawn when it comes to friendships.

“Yes, love?” 

“You’re my best boy too. Not sure I ever told you.” 

He doesn’t answer, not in words at least. But he squeezes her legs as they rest on him, and he hopes she knows. Oh god if only she knew. 

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. (Y/N) knows he thinks so because he let it slip once or twice when he was drunk and his words were all jumbled and his mind was all hazy. 

And every damn time it breaks her fucking heart. Because loving Jamie Tartt is the easiest thing she ever did. It comes as natural as breathing. It feels like a nice ray of summer sun on her skin, sizzling and exciting and warm.

Loving Jamie is a gift.

Now if only there was a way she could make him realize that. But every time he lets himself be even a little vulnerable he is so quick to cover the cracks with stupid jokes or misplaced arrogance before a real conversation can happen. 

She needs him to realize it though. To understand that loving him isn’t difficult. Because how can you tell someone you love them and make them understand just how much they mean to you when they deem themself unlovable? 

Turning her head to the side she looks at his sleeping face. Somewhere between Fixer Upper and House Hunters, he fell asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He’s snoring something awful but she still thinks he’s adorable. Jamie has a mischievous, lovable quality to him that just makes you open your heart to him whether you want to or not. Yeah, sure, he’s let people down, he’s done shitty things, but he’s trying. He’s learned and he’s changed and the price for being young and stupid and cocky should not be a life spent questioning if you deserve other people’s love. 

Jamie Tartt is not hard to love. But loving him and not being able to tell him because he doesn’t love you in quite the same way, that’s just fucking cruel.

The air is loaded with static. Everyone is on the edge of their seat. (Y/N) is huddled in between Rebecca and Keeley, holding their hands and nervously biting at her lip. Emotions are running high as Richmond is playing Manchester. Correction — they’re not only playing them, they are kicking their asses.

It’s 2-0 for Richmond and they’re already 1 minute into the 3 minutes of additional time. If Manchester doesn’t get a miracle, Richmond wins. The thought of that makes a fluttery feeling spread in (Y/N)’s stomach. If this is how she feels, she can only imagine what Jamie must feel like. 

1:30

2 minutes

2:30

3 minutes.

“Blow the whistle. Come on. Blow the fucking whistle.” 

And as if he heard her pleading, the referee blows the whistle giving Richmond their win. 

Laughter and cheers and songs fill the air as every Richmond fan is on their feet celebrating a win they so desperately wanted and that the team fought so hard for.

The win Jamie fought so hard for. 

She tries to find him across the pitch but there are too many people, hugging and celebrating, too much noise. She just hopes he knows how proud she is.

And she hopes that somewhere out there his dad is watching. Sees him win, with the team he doesn’t approve of. Watches him succeed and be the man he never was and never will be.

She hopes somewhere deep in the inky black pit that is his heart, he finds a glimmer of pride for his only son, even if it comes entirely belated.

Jamie has won quite a few matches by now and it’s always a great feeling but some wins stand out. This is one of them.

His heart is filled with gratitude and pride, and his entire system is flooded with adrenaline and utter euphoria. He’s positively buzzing as the team gathers in the hallway leading toward the locker room. Some of them have been whisked away to give short post-match interviews — as if there is much to say other than how fucking awesome it feels to win — while the others are waiting for them to come back so they can all meet up at the locker room for some after match briefing. 

“Superstar, you did it!” 

Her voice carries through the hallway above the rest of all the noise. Like a siren calling out to him, she can’t hear anything but her, it all shifts into the background.

She weaves through the crowd like a fucking goddess in blue. He always thought she looked good in the Richmond colors and seeing her with his name on her back never fails to make his heart shutter with delight. But there’s something about today that makes this even more special. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of winning. Of making his mom proud and proving his dad wrong. Of proving himself wrong. Maybe it’s seeing her in his kit, with his name and his number smiling that radiant smile of hers. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. But something makes his brain short-circuit for a moment. Just a fleeting moment but long enough to make him push through the crowd until he’s standing in front of her, matching smiles on their faces. Just long enough for him to softly place one hand on her waist and pull her closer, so unbelievably close. Just long enough to cradle her face in his other hand, gentle and careful, like the most precious thing in the world. Long enough for him to place his lips on hers in a kiss so sweet, so long in the making, it feels surreal. It feels like he’s still stuck in his saccharine daydream.

And then reality snaps back and he pulls away, opening his eyes to a smiling (Y/N) staring back up at him through curious eyes.

“Silly boy, what was that?” 

She doesn’t sound upset, in fact, his delusions might even make him think she sounds delighted. 

“I — “ 

“Jamie, locker room. Let’s go, boy!” 

Ted’s voice calls out to him all full of glee and jubilation. The guy sounds even more chipper than usual and that says a whole lot. 

Pulling away from her feels like having a bubble suddenly popped. Every what-if that has been clouded by post-win euphoria suddenly bears their ugly head again. Sometimes Jamie wishes his thoughts weren’t so fucking loud all the time.

“Go, your coach is asking for you. I’ll see you at the after-party. We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Only they don’t because, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie avoids her like the plague.

Everyone is gathered at the bar for celebratory drinks, it’s a private function, just the team and family and associates. Spirits are high, everyone’s excited. And all things considered this night should be magical. Only it’s not, because once again Jamie refuses to let himself be loved.

Rejection tastes bitter. It’s sharp and metallic. Rejection also tastes quite a lot like tequila.

The salt, the lime, the liquor — it’s supposed to make her feel better. It’s supposed to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a night. 

It doesn’t do any of that, it only makes her fucking sad.

How foolish of her to believe that he’d feel the same, that he’d finally pick up on the hints she’s been dropping for over a decade and reciprocate the feelings. Maybe they never stood a chance anyway. Maybe —

No, actually fuck that.

He can’t do this, it’s unfair. You don’t kiss someone, not like that at least, and then ignore them for the rest of the night. Especially not when that person is your best fucking friend.

Bumping against people left and right, she makes her way across the room to stand next to a smiling Jamie deep in conversation with a pretty girl, who (Y/N) is quite sure is the sister of one of his teammates.

“I need to talk to you.” It’s not a request. Not this time. This conversation has been a long time coming. It’s time, she thinks, to finally be brave. One can only swallow down their feelings and emotions for so long, until they come bubbling to the surface like a fucking volcano rolling over Pompeii. She just hopes that once the dust settles there will be hope instead of death and destruction.

“Uh, kind of in the middle of something here.” 

She can’t stand this part of him. This fake, unbothered cool guy who has no empathy for her or anyone other than himself. She hates it mostly because this is not the real Jamie, just some cardboard cutout version of him.

“Too bad, that'll have to wait.” 

She doesn’t give him another second to resist or shake her off, just grabs onto his arm and pulls him through the crowd and towards the exit.

The nightly London air feels cold against her skin, making her shiver as goosebumps appear on her arms.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the fuck is going on with me?”

He can’t be serious.

“Yeah. I had something going there. She was well fit too.”

The urge to smack him across his stupidly handsome face is seriously fighting her desire to kiss him again right about now.

“Good for her but you owe me a conversation.”

“(Y/N), I — “ 

The way he rolls his eyes so dismissively, so suave and cool, it’s like a dagger straight to the heart.

“No, you know what — fuck you, Jamie. I know you have a hard time letting people in completely, and I get that that’s something you have to work through on your own time but the way you're treating me right now is really shit. You can’t kiss me like that and then run. I’ve been waiting for that fucking kiss for over a decade.” 

“What?” 

He looks at her with the signature Jamie Tartt look of confusion and innocence. Like a damn puppy or something. And if she wasn’t so annoyed, so hurt, maybe she’d find it endearing.

“I’m in love with you, Jamie. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I’ve been in love with you since I was sat next to you in class and you asked me if Pythagoras was that French guy. I’ve loved you when you were just a chaotic teenager. I’ve loved you when you won your first game and when you lost. I’ve loved you when you signed your first contract and when you made a complete fool of yourself on that ridiculous tv show. And I love you now. So to think you finally picked up on it and reciprocate my feelings was — I was so happy, Jamie. Only for you to completely ignore me for the rest of the night. I don’t deserve that. Not from you of all people. “

“Will you let me talk?”

“No, I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I love you, Jamie and I know you think I shouldn’t and that you don’t deserve it, but guess what? I don’t care. I love you anyway and I am not asking for permission to love you. That’s not how it works. And I don’t love you despite your flaws, I love them too. Even your stupid 2003 looking haircut and your ridiculous clothes that make you look like a male Bratz doll sometimes. Sorry people in your life made you feel like you had to earn it just because they couldn’t see how phenomenal you are. Just you, Jamie Tartt, messy little prick.” 

Silence wraps around them like a thick blanket as a moment passes, then two. Jamie raises his eyebrows in question.

“Can I?”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jesus, alright. Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, I’m upset!”

“And I’m sorry about that. I never meant to upset you. Ever. I just — do you remember that one birthday, I think I turned 12, when me dad showed up and he was just being his usual asshole self and he made me play against him and then yelled at me in front of all the guests when he won? “

She sure does. Even at 12, she wanted to put her tiny little fist straight between Mr. Tartt’s eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You sat with me when I went to my room to escape. Refused to leave my side. Called my dad a wanker and you made me laugh. Then you got me a piece of cake and we ate it on my bed while watching Spongebob.” A smile plays on his lips as he reminisces about that day.

“I was 12 and I didn’t know a lot but I knew that night that I was in love with you and I immediately promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. Losing you is the scariest thing I can think about and my track record with people is pretty shit, honestly. So yeah I didn’t want to even risk fucking up with you. Rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“So why did you kiss me earlier after all?”

“For one, you looked so fit in blue, with my name on your back. I was full of adrenaline and just so fucking happy. I uh — I think my mind was telling me that it’s finally time to be brave for once.”

Hearing him say it, it’s something she never expected but always hoped for. She’s played this scene out so many times in her dreams and yet she doesn’t know what to say or do now that it is actually happening.

“So what now?”

“Well, if you let me, I was gonna kiss you. Because if you think that other kiss was great, this next one is going to change your life.”

As those words fall from his lips, (Y/N) can’t get close to him quick enough. Pulling him towards her by the front of his shirt. Closer and closer until there is no room left between them and he gently nuzzles his nose against hers. 

“Jamie Tartt?” 

“Hmm?”

“Change my life!”

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thought so. And maybe a part of him still does and always will. But kissing (Y/N), his best girl, the fucking love of his life, it feels quite easy to let himself be loved. 

Feels as easy as breathing. And for once in his life, the reality is so much sweeter than the daydream. 

[tteokdoroki]

Riding Isagi has been PLAGUING my mind. Like I want that guy till he’s crying shaking stuttering. I need to see the whites of his eyes when they roll to the back of his head. I need to physically feel the weight of the air with all the sex mingled with it. I have gotta hear that nasty sloppy sound of the froth of us meeting again and again. I wanna ask him about the most mundane things (like what he wants for dinner or some shit) just to see him struggle to answer. Wanna praise him just to if he’ll slobber from the excitement or just look at me with a dumb fucked out little smile…I need to FUCK this guy…and then sweetly kiss him whole again :D

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, established relationship, smut, creampies, praise!kink, cow girl, hair pulling, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

when isagi plays well, you’ll often reward him. 

he’s often deserving of it. he puts his heart and his soul, his life force into playing soccer for the best results and to become the best. isagi is a hard worker and from that stems his yearning for attention and praise. it’s in human nature after all, to want to be told ‘you’ve done well.’ ‘i’m proud of you.’ ‘you’re so good.’ — to chase after a prize. 

you know that sometimes isagi has his sick little fantasies of debauched domesticity. to come home to you and play a sinful game of house — he’d never make you a trophy or housewife for that matter because he loves and respects you way too much. but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about bringing the fantasy into the bedroom. and as said before, when isagi plays well… you indulge him. 

“how was your day, yoichi? did you miss me, honey?” you purr, smiling with your tongue in the corner of your mouth at the sight of twinkling azure eyes rolling back into his skull. your fingers twirl daintily in the dark baby hair’s on the back of isagi’s neck — eliciting a high pitched mewl from deep in his chest. the angelic sound turns into a suprised hiss when you grab the roots of his silky locks and tug isag’s gaze up to face you. “answer me, baby.” 

he looks up at you, delirious — his expression appearing high as a kite despite there having been only a few kisses exchanged between you both. between your tongue in his mouth, running over his pearly white teeth, and your warm, sticky cunt wrapped around his aching shaft…yoichi doesn’t know how to think. let alone formulate a proper response.

“yoichi—“ 

“fucking missed you, baby,” the striker’s brain short circuits at the feeling of your juices dribbling down his cock resulting in obtuse droplets forming between his loaded balls. it grounds him yet destroys him as the same time — enough of isagi’s consciousness coming back to him to dig his nails into the fat of your ass, lifting and dropping you in his lap for some well deserved friction. “always do. miss my girl, miss her pretty face. h-her wet. fucking. cunt. wrapped around me like this….god, fuck!” he punctuates each word with a forceful jug of hips up into your core.

you find it so cute how he tries to stay in control, keep a level head when you’re on top. spoiling him. yoichi let’s you take over the rhythm of your hips — so you start off slow, circling yourself in his lap and squeezing down on his heavy, throbbing dick before you switch to bouncing up and down. he swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing in anticipation when you grab his large hands with your smaller ones and guide them from your backside to your chest. 

there’s no way to properly describe how much you affect isagi. you make him feel like a hormone- crazed high schooler with the way he eagerly fondles your chest, brushing his thumbs over your sensitive nipples until they harden and form those pretty peaks he loves so much. he hungrily watches your face, listens out for the change in the pitch of your dreamy lullaby-like moans that lets isagi know you feel so fucking good and that he’s touching you just right. his observant cobalt eyes peer up at you, watching you as if he’s searching for constellations in the sky. he finds them when your own eyes grow starry with tears, aligning perfectly with the surge of pleasure that shoots through you. 

if he had the words, isagi would tell you that you looked like an angel. his lips quiver around the shape of the complement and fade off into a shaky whimper exhaled into the weighty scent of sex in the air. embarrassment burns in the centre of his chest like a ball of gas in outer space because isagi can still hear himself babbling and moaning ad-libbing the sounds of your skin meeting his and the sloppiness of his cock slipping in and out of your creamed cunt. 

the mix of your arousals makes a papping noise that makes isagi dizzy — the gem-shade of blue in his eyes overtaken by white as they roll back into his skull. he misses the warm, sluice, hug of your pussy when you pull off of him and never wants to leave it when you slam back down, squealing to yourself cutely because you’re high off of pleasure too. 

you have him so fucked up, he starts to wonder if he really deserves this — either way, isagi clings to every ounce of pleasure he gets from you riding him stupid. from your thighs slapping down on his, to the way you sensually grind down on his cock and use him to churn up your own insides. 

before you lose him to overthinking instead of ecstasy, you nose up the side of isagi’s neck and press grounding kisses to his piping hot flesh as you praise him. “you’re so good, yoichi. played so well today too. my good boy,” you coo against the shell of his ear, basking in the way he trembles and whines, his cockhead leaking up against your equally sopping walls. “made you, hah, dinner baby. your favourite, just how you like it.”

a tingling sensation builds behind isagi’s pelvis and a wildfire of lust spreads throughout his body, burning white at the base of his lungs — stealing away the words that he needs to speak. you watch as he tries and fails, reduced to a bumbling mess of tears and a sloppy cock. 

licking up the side of yoichi’s face and catching a stray tear of his before it falls too far, you peel back your hips — both of you dropping your gazes to the opaque milky strings of slick that tie you to one another like strings of fate. 

isagi heaves at the sight, dragging you down to lie on his sticky chest — the dire need to be closer to you shooting down his spine. “you spoil me so much, precious girl.” he chokes on the syllables, stuttering while you grind into one another sensually. “really takin’ care of me.” 

you can hear his heart pounding against his rib cage in this position and look up to isagi’s lovesick face, pouty and wet like a puppy. “i have to take care of my precious boy, he’s the best striker in the world after all.” you say quietly, feverishly bucking your squelchy core down on his heady cock. isagi makes a face, one that’s twisted in a mix of agony and rapture, and his nails dig into the meat of your thighs once more — holding you in place while he wildly fucks himself into you.

“y-you’re gonna cum, aren’t you, pretty boy?” you continue to tease him, your words punctuated by his rapid thrusts and your own high pitched squeals. isagi nods with a pout, his sensibility abandoned. “my boy’s so worked up, ‘m so proud of you, yoichi. use your words and you can cum inside me this time.” 

sweat mats darkish midnight hair to isagi’s forehead, pearling on his hairline like the tears in his waterline. he blinks them back, barely able to focus on you, especially since you’re squeezing down on him so hard. “i wanna cum,” he chants dumbly, his voice muffled by the exertion of pounding your puffy pussy raw. “lemme cum, please.” 

smiling, you brush back his bangs and grab at them so you can tug his face up towards yours. “kiss me, yoichi.” 

“oh fuck,” isagi screws his eyes shut and rasps, tone whiny, craning his neck up to meet your lips. “hah, hah, hah—!”

you cut off his candy-like and heavenly whimpers with an intimate, open-mouthed kiss. isagi pants against your tongue as you force it lovingly past his lips, pressing it up against his while you swap spit with one another. he cums like this, hard, quickly filling you up with viscous white that taints your insides and you follow not long after — painting his lap with your claim as your breath mingles in the sec tainted air vibrating in between the two of you. 

when you pull away, lazily flopping into yoichi’s strong arms — you remain connected by a string of saliva that he licks up eagerly. isagi gives you a dumb, sexy fucked out smirk just for good measure, still pulsing inside of your warm sex. 

“i love you, pretty boy.” you breathe, kissing his cheek dotingly. 

“i love you most, precious girl.” isagi breathes back, keening happily into your affectionate touch. 

[inchidentally]

I saw your post about Lando and his teammates and I agree in pretty much everything. There's also some things I had never noticed before or at least, not as in depth, and as I was reading I remembered some moments I wanted to share with you. I checked videos for accuracy btw.

I kinda felt Daniel and Carlos liked the spotlight in them meanwhile Lando just avoided it, in fact he still does, and this affected his dynamic with Oscar positively. Some examples:

Austria 2020. Lando earns his first F1 podium. When they're in the team celebration Carlos runs to congratulate Lando and accompanies him to meet the team. Then he's the one who hands Lando the champagne and his trophy. At some point he punctuates something Lando says in his speech. Nothing bad-spirited of course, and maybe is just a Carlos way of protecting "socially-awkward" Lando in a big brother kind of way, but it's not Lando's decission to share his spotlight with Carlos, he can't make a choice here. Previously Carlos had shared his Brazil 2019 success with Lando making him a main point of his celebration, so probably it's just a "sharing good moments" mentality from Carlos' side, but again, nobody asked Lando.

Monza 2020. On the other hand Carlos almost wins the race, he ends up second and a bit frustrated, his first proper podium with Mclaren after the Brazil delayed podium. He gets to the garage for the celebration and Lando is waiting patiently on the side. He blends with the other team members until someone brings his neon board to show he finished P4 for the team photo. A podium if a red flag didn't screw him. I wonder how many people remember this fact, because I feel it wasn't mentioned enough back in the day.

2021 season: Daniel loves the spotlight until… his season is very bad and it's better if the spotlight is away from him. Lando has an outstanding season receiving his well-earned dose of attention until Monza happens. Daniel deserves all the attention for getting a victory. Everybody praises Mclaren, it's a 1-2! Fast-forward a week when Daniel and Lando make a Q&A video for the F1 channel and Daniel remembers it was Lando's best result in F1 and Lando uses his sarcastic humour saying "it's a shame you won because everybody forgot, you kinda ruined it." They joke about it. Coincidentally the rest of Lando's season is plagued by bad luck: the late rain in Sochi, the punctures in Brazil, Qatar and Abu Dhabi, and a terribly-timed pit-stop before a red flag in Saudi Arabia. In retrospect that 2nd position was Lando's highest point of the season and it went a bit unnoticed. Comments on how Lando "crumbles under pressure" or how he "disappears in the 2nd half of the season" are everywhere after the last race. Unfair and harsh.

And I see a reflection of all those things Lando went through in his current relationship with Oscar.

When Oscar misses the podium in Silverstone for an unlucky safety-car and finishes P4, Lando from his second step in the podium doesn't miss a chance remembering everyone that Oscar should had been P3. In his team radio, in the post-race interview, in the media pen, in the Mclaren video… He just got his first podium at his home race but he worries about the rookie and how frustrated he must feel, because well, he's been in that exact position before and nobody openly cared about it.

When they get a double podium in Japan it's Oscar's first podium in F1 and Lando does everything he can to make sure everybody knows about it. He showers him in champagne in the podium, kinda forgetting his own success. It's not a "double podium" more, it's "Oscar's first podium", thank you very much.

Then it's Qatar and Oscar wins the Sprint. Lando works hard for his P3 but he mentions Oscar's victory at any given chance. Even one day later when Lando does a brilliant run from P10 to P3 (and who knows if it could have been a P2 if Mclaren had allowed him to race Oscar) and as frustrated as he was with his whole weekend and the missed chances, he doesn't celebrates with Oscar, he celebrates Oscar.

Oscar gets unlucky in the second half of the season: accidents that aren't his fault, mechanical problems… Some people use his final positions to attack him saying that his rookie season isn't that impressive. Especially after the American races.

It's the end of the season and Lando often remembers all of Oscar's milestones even before Oscar can open his mouth, because Lando knows Oscar will avoid the spotlight. Lando knows how it feels like when you're treated with condescension for being the younger one but he can't do that, he sees Oscar as an equal. Someone who has worked as hard as him to get to the top, someone who deserves his success as much as himself, someone who maybe doesn't care at all about spotlights and attention and can't understand why his older teammate insists so much in reminding everyone about his achievements when they are good, but objectively they could be better.

Because Lando treats Oscar like he would have liked to be treated.

And judging Oscar's behaviour around Lando, he's aware of how much Lando is taking care of him with those little details.

I'm gonna actually fucking cry, anon you are the brain I wish I had <3

like, I'm gonna link to the post I made that this is in reference to but genuinely your ask is everything that needs to be said. those subtle details were all kind of hazy in my brain but I knew the overall impression - you not only nailed all of them you led it to SUCH a perfect conclusion.

because Lando's been the satellite, the baby, the little brother, the phenom without a win, the one left behind, the former teammate watching his friends form similar (or stronger) bonds with new teammates.

and in all of Oscar's rookie season not once have I given Lando the credit he deserves for being as you say, everything for Oscar he wished he could have had in those first few years of his F1 career.

and goddd, the way Lando alternately loved and hated that Carlos and Daniel were these big brash alpha types. loved it for the protection it afforded but sometimes hated it bc sometimes he was so small to them that he became a something they loved rather than a someone. and this also goes in hand with my feelings about the larry-level car|ando fans forgetting that Lando is a real whole person who doesn't just fit and go along with everything about Carlos like a self-insert for fans.

goddd, y'all please clock this expert piece of landoscar lore in this ask <3

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

hey!! happy celebration time bestie :) sorry this took forever, i got sick but i'm here now!

i was thinking it would be cute to do a blurb for steve based off these grumpy x sunshine prompts: (i love sassy steve, he's my fav)

having the habit of hugging them randomly

^ and when u forget to hug then, they just stand there like an npc, too cool to ask for that hug.

or they pull you into a hug without any words and wouldn't show u their face after

i feel like steve would get this attitude probably bc you're in front of the kids or something and he doesn't wanna beg for your hello hug but he also doesn't want to go without it. you can decide if they're in an established relationship or not <3 congrats again on 500!!

riley i hope you enjoy this cause i wrote this in two days. both times while at work. completely forgot the grumpy x sunshine part, but i feel you could see hints (let me know if you want a rewrite)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader wc: 969😏

masterlist / steve harrington

you and steve are friends who’ve kissed a few times. twice while drunk, one at a house party and another while at a surprisingly packed hideout where eddie’s band played. there were three other times where you kissed but both of you were sober and it was broad daylight hours. however, the two of you weren’t a couple. haven’t really chosen when to have a proper discussion or just blatantly ignoring how both of you are just waiting for the next time a kiss could happen.

yet, when it comes to hugging, you and steve are a gross couple in love. always holding onto each other for a time that isn’t considered a friendly passing hug. sometimes you’ll hug steve from behind as a ‘sneak attack’, other times it’ll be a side hug with your arms around his waist and one of his thrown over your shoulder while waiting in a long line. or it’s where you crash into steve chest seeking his warmth as a safety blanket, even could be where the two of you are full on cuddling while taking a nap on his king bed.

hugs are something steve fully expects to receive whenever the two of you are in the same room, within reach or quick steps. so when steve sees you walk into his backyard for this pool party the kids forced him to have, he’s completely frozen when you walk past him and throw your open arms around dustin first. dustin doesn’t deserve to be in your arms first, that’s a steve harrington only privilege. but he allows it since it’s the twerps birthday.

steve just stands back by the loungers, watching as you sway the boy side to side, almost throwing the both of you to the ground. the two of you laugh and steve swears he gets a bit tipsy from the high pitched lilt.

you pull away from dustin and turn on a 180 to then pull bright cheeked max into a sisterly embrace.

“what the fuck?” steve grumbled to himself. his eyes never leaving as you pull each kid, one by one into a firm hug. and when you’ve given will the last one of the group, steve expects you to come find him next, but no. you see nancy and bounce over to her.

“mad your girlfriend ignoring you?” steve startles at the voice of robin appearing beside him. she was unbothered while picking chips off her paper plate. “jesus, gotta put a bell on you.” hand over his heart while side eyeing her.

“i’m not a fucking cat, drill bit. you're just lost in that smooth brain of yours while creepily staring at y/n. might finally put that restraining order on you.” sentence punctuated with her loud chewing.

steve rolled his eyes, “she wouldn’t do that. and she’s not my girlfriend. she’s a girl who’s a friend.” his quiet tone showing his real emotions on that claim.

robin hummed, “yeah. a girl who’s a friend that you’ve kissed five times and been to chicken to do shit about.” he glared at the accusation. she then pointed a salty finger across the pool, “who’s also giving eddie a nice hug and you're over here standing like a tree waiting for her to take the initiative.”

steve whipped his head at robin’s pointed location to see eddie with his right arm casually holding your waist as your left is over his shoulder. steve could only see the mesmerized grin of eddie and it’s making his head fuzzy.

there was a slight shove at his shoulder and it forced him to once again glare at robin. “dude!” she rolled her eyes, “stop being wuss and get your girl. it’s not that hard, you both like each other already. act grossly coupley in public, that’s why you’re always ‘oh, not dating’ bullshitting to strangers.”

“robs, it’s just… i’m- im scared…” steve trailed off while turning his eyes to the ground. robin’s hand touched his shoulder and she asked, “of what? there just needs to be proper communication and everything will come together.” robin squeezed his shoulder before boldly stating, “she loves you. and you love her. be in love together.” and she walks away leaving steve by his porch door.

that is until there’s two arms sliding around his waist from behind and something laying along his spine. he automatically raises his hands to fold over yours, ruffling your arm hair from his back and forth motions.

“was wondering where you were?” your voice is muffled by the way you're pushing your left cheek into steve’s skin.

he turns his chin over his shoulder, “i’ve been here the whole time. thought you were ignoring me.” trying to play the last part off as a joke, but he really did think you were ignoring him.

you gasped and moved to stand in front of him, “never. just wanted to save the best for last. and also i wouldn’t have to let you go after i got to everyone else first.” making your point while rewrapping yourself into steve. his own arms resting over your shoulders with his cheek laying on your head.

“i love you.” he blurted with such an ease that steve was a bit shocked that it was such an easy and true statement.

a dreamy smile on your lips as you replied, “i love you too, stevie.”

and his heart jumped a little faster, both from your silky voice and you possibly saying it in a different meaning, “no, not as a friend.”

“i know, stevie. i love you both as a friend and more.”

steve lifted his head away from your skull and you tilted your head up. the two of you stay held together as infectious smiles grasped at your lips and childish giggles spilled free.

-

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Helpful, in a Heterodyne Kind of Way

inspired by this post, Saturnus Heterodyne, doting grandfather, attempting to find Agatha a PROPER boyfriend

AO3 Link

“No.”

Saturnus blinked.

“Did you say something, dear?”

Teodora approached like a tidal wave and hit about as hard. Saturnus went stumbling back, clutching at his jaw, but Teodora kept coming, punctuating her words with hard jabs to his chest.

“You will not kill my sons. You will abdicate to Bill. You will let him rule Mechanicsburg, his way, and you will like it, or so help me, Saturnus Heterodyne, I will break you.”

Saturnus stared at his wife, who seemed to tower over him like the god queens of old.

“…yes, dear.”

“I don’t like him.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but did it fondly.

“You never like any of them.”

“And I definitely don’t like this one. Sturmvoraus, pah! And a Valois! Weaselly little devils, with their poisons and their smoke knights and their secret assassinations…”

“I’m sorry, you don’t like them because they kill people?” Agatha asked, raising her eyebrows.

“They don’t kill people properly!” Saturnus bellowed, thumping his fist down on the arm of his chair. “The only reason a man needs to poison a knife is because he’s not good enough to kill you without it!”

“Well, I thought he was very charming.”

“That sister of his had promise,” Saturnus said, perking up a little. “There’s a girl who understands leadership.”  

“She wanted to flense the servants because they didn’t hem her dress correctly.”

“So she’s a bit of a project,” Saturnus said, dismissively. “You always liked a challenge.”

“I think I’ll give this particular one a miss, thanks,” Agatha said, with deep amusement.

Saturnus’ expression grew serious, and he gripped her hand tightly.

“I know you’re all grown up, and you don’t need looking after anymore—especially not by some miserable old codger,” he said, earnestly, “but when I’m gone—”

“Grandfather, please,” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not that old—”

“When I’m gone,” Saturnus continued, insistent, “I want to go knowing you’ve got a partner in life who will make you happy. Someone who can keep up with you, support you, love you properly. Someone who deserves you.”  

“Someone who would be willing to help me burn Europa to the ground if I suddenly decide to take up the family traditions?” Agatha asked, with a quirk of a smile.

“Well, that goes without saying.”

Agatha’s smile spread, becoming soft and genuine. She leaned down and kissed the top of her grandfather’s head.  

“You are a terrible old man,” she said, “and I love you very much.”

She slipped out of the room. When her footsteps faded into the distance, Saturnus sighed and maneuvered his chair—a fantastic device Agatha had built him, with dozens of little legs that could navigate the castle's many stairs and even the steep road down to Mechanicsburg—over to the window.

After a few minutes, he saw his granddaughter emerge from the castle, followed at a respectable distance by two Jӓger guards.

“She’s the Lady of Mechanicsburg,” he said aloud. “She deserves an equal. She deserves the best. Certainly deserves better than her father got.”

Oh yes, Lucrezia Mongfish. Saturnus had approved, quite profusely, even encouraged Bill to see her. And how had that ended?

With a war that nearly leveled Europa, Bill and Barry vanished, a grave smaller than its headstone, and a little girl named Lady of Mechanicsburg before she was twelve.  

Perhaps he should know better than to meddle, after all that.

‘I did overhear a very interesting conversation between Master Tarvek and his sister.’

“Hmm?” Saturnus said, only half-listening.

‘Do you recall Master Bill and Barry’s friend, Klaus Wulfenbach?’

Saturnus screwed up his face.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, he’s far too old for her!”

‘I was actually thinking of his son. Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, heir to the Wulfenbach Empire?’

Saturnus rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. The Wulfenbach Empire was impressive, and Klaus was ruling with a proper, iron fist—while remaining respectful of Mechanicsburg’s continued autonomy, which Saturnus could only assume was Klaus being smart enough not to start a war he couldn’t win.

“Mmm,” he said, reluctantly. “But Klaus did have his hero phase, running around Europa with the boys, fixing all kinds of problems. That sort of thing can be heritable, you know.”

Just look at Agatha! Nature over nurture his left foot.

‘Not a concern,’ the castle said, smoothly. ‘The boy is adopted.’

“Really?” Saturnus said, now more interested. “Do we know his background, then?”

‘Do you remember Petrus Teuful?’

Saturnus froze. Slowly he raised his head to look at the ceiling.

“Petrus Teuful?”

‘Oh yes.’

“The Black Mist Raiders, that Petrus Teuful?”

‘The very same.’ The castle was very smug.

Saturnus’s astonished expression slowly spread into a wide, devious grin.

“Well…perhaps we shall have Master Gilgamesh over…for dinner. Heh. Aheheh. Hahaha. Ha. Hahaha! Haahahaha!”

Thunder crashed overhead as Saturnus’ laughter echoed over Mechanicsburg. Agatha put her hands on her hips and tutted, glaring up at the castle.

“Oh, now he knows he’s not supposed to do that. It agitates his sciatica.”

[calware]

TT: ‘Sup. TG: sup TG: this definitely won’t get confusing TT: Are you kidding me? It's about as downright comprehensive as it could ever get. TG: glad were on the same page TG: might as well be in the same paragraph with how on the same page we are TT: I’d wager we’ve even made it down to the exact sentence. TG: hell yeah we have TG: my brain is short circuitin here tryin to keep track of whos talking @_@ TT: Just leave the short-circuiting to me then, ok? TG: at least jas had the decency to change her color to a unique hex lmao TT: Of course. As if I wasn't civilized.

TT: You’re part housecat. TT: Emphasis on the “house” prefix. What sort of stray do you take me for? TG: O_O TG: woah lets back up on the snarky broad infighting and set the record straight here cause by scratching our session TG: we created your universe ie chronologically we take precedent TG: ie we get dibs TG: ie rose and i shouldnt have to change colors  TT: Oh hell no. Ain’t no way I'm changing my text color a second time. TG: yeah and u guys were made from our genes soooo technically we were here first TG: that may be true for you two but i *know* dirk made hal when he was 13 so ill keep chilling over here with the red text rights TT: That text has composed my entire nonphysical self for the past 3 years. I’d argue I’m more deserving of its hue. TT: Are we really just going to bicker the entire time? TG: Only ten minutes into a conversation and we’re already at each other’s throats. TG: hal tbf u started it lool TT: … TT: ……… TG: …………… TT: ………………………… TG: what r all tha dots 4……………… TG: WAIT CRAP TG: aaaughh dave u tricked me!! using proper punctuation and everythin TT: It seems there simply aren’t enough colors in the rainbow to sustain our familial unit. Pity. TT: Hey, first I’m losing my text color and now I gotta give up my beloved speech pattern? I might as well saw off my totally new and legit arms while I’m at it. TT: We could always switch over to hemotyping! TG: oh my god jas youre a genius TG: NOOOOOOOOOOO WHAT TT: Yes. That’d be hilarious. TG: signnn am i gonna have 2 double check ur initials every time one of u sends a message now… TT: Sure, you could. TT: But how can you be sure it wasn’t Dirk who just sent that? We still use the same account, you know. TG: GAHH ARE YOU KIDDIN ME TT: Don’t worry Rox, I’m just messin’ with you. TT: Or am I. TG: this family is a nightmare

[1cecreamwillfixit]

𝕀𝕫𝕦𝕜𝕦 𝕄𝕚𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕪𝕒 - ℙ𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥

Sub!Izuku x Femdom!Reader

Content includes: male penetration, thigh spanking, orgasm denial, overstimulation, slight mommy kink

In this chapter they are using the stoplight system for safe words (red = stop, yellow = slow down, green = go)

Set in the future, both Midoriya and reader are over 18

Enjoy ;)

"Ah!"

Midoriya squirmed as you drove the strap on further into his hole, crying out as you brushed his sweet spot. He looked beautiful beneath you, eyes rolled back and full of tears, mouth hanging open and small trails of drool slipping down his cheeks.

"Mmnnnn .... Y/n ~ please,, I'm g-going to c-"

You cut him off with a strong slap to the thigh. "Don't you even think about it". He whimpered as an angry red mark bloomed on his leg and then looked up at you, teary eyes pleading for relief.

"Y/n please ~I c-can't hold it-t aNy longer"

His emerald eyes squeezed shut in pain as he tried to stop himself from bursting on the spot. It was no use.

"Open your eyes Izuku" you commanded, grabbing his jaw and roughly positioning his head so that he was staring into your fiery eyes. The venom in your tone and the anger in your stare sent Izuku flying over the edge, unable to hold back any longer.

He exploded, mouth open in a silent scream. Cum shot up across his stomach and he moaned in pleasure as the feeling washed over him. You kept the dildo thrusting in and out of him as he rode out his orgasm.

However, even after he'd finished you kept thrusting, pace never changing and Izuku quickly found himself slipping into overstimulation. His glossy eyes shot open to meet your smirk as he began to plead with you. "Y/n I'm so sorry, it was an accident, please - please stop I'm so sorry" he sobbed, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at having cum so soon.

"You came without permission Izuku. That's the second time this week that you have disobeyed me" you said, casting a disappointed glare over your squirming sub. He continued to babble endless apologies, tears of shame leaking from his eyes.

"Y/N!! ~ please,, stOp! too so-on I- can't," he whined. You grinned cruelly at his words. "You can and you will. I don't take orders from whiny brats like you. You are going to keep cumming until I'm satisfied and I don't want to hear another word from that slutty mouth, you hear me Izuku?"

He cried out in response, eyes screwing shut and nodded slowly. That wouldn't do.

Another slap landed harshly against his thigh. "I asked you a question Izuku I expect a proper response."

"Y-es yes y/n I underst-A-nd" he moaned and your lips twisted into an evil grin. "Such a good boy Izuku, so polite. If I weren't punishing you right now I'd say you deserve a reward. Too bad you decided to misbehave today."

He opened his mouth to respond but you quickly cut him off with a slap to the cheek. "No talking. I don't want to hear any more complaints." You continued to plough into him, mesmerised by the way his muscles tensed and relaxed as he reached his second orgasm. You reached down and grabbed his dick, stroking it roughly as he cried out.

His limbs thrashed around as he came for the second time that night, spilling into your hand. He screamed when you still continued to thrust in and out of him, refusing to let up. The pain of overstimulation quickly increased and he gripped the headboard to try and distract himself from the overbearing sensation.

"Look at you Izuku, absolutely wrecked." You taunted, punctuating your words with a few harder thrusts that had him gasping and whimpering, unable to produce words. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes crossed, pupils dilated and swirling with clouds of lust.

God this man would be the death of you .You often forgot to tell him how much you loved seeing him like this but you were sure that he knew by now.

He suddenly grasped your arms, his eyes now wide, brimming with an emotion you couldn't read. Your fiery dominant expression slipped to one of soft concern.

"Izuku? Baby are you ok?" He let out a pained whine, which only furthered your worry. "Zuzu do you want me to stop? What's your colour?"

He choked on his words as he struggled to mumble "green" and you looked at him in doubt. "Baby are you sure? We can stop if you want." The last thing you wanted was to push him past his limit.

"No n-no pleaase please don't sTop y/n please~" he whined and you hesitantly sped up the pace of your thrusts, dropping your head to smother his face with soft kisses.

Your touch seemed to ground him as you felt the tension in his body fading, the lust filled expression returning.

He keened and arched his back, hands pulling at the headboard, as he felt himself reaching his third climax.

"I'm cUmming mommy~ c-umming nOw" he moaned. The name caught you so off guard your rhythm faltered slightly before picking up speed to bring him over the edge. His orgasm was almost dry already but his body still seized like it was the first time.

You finally brought your rough thrusts to a slow stop, gently pulling out of the shaking boy and removing the strap before flopping over next to him to press soft kisses to his precious face.

"You did so well Izuku, so well. I'm gonna get something to clean you up and run a bath for you ok." You began to walk away from him but he grasped your hand pulling your attention to back to him.

"Thank you Y/n. I love you so much" he whispered, glassy green eyes welling up with fresh tears. "Hey hey baby, don't cry. I love you too Izuku" you said squatting down to wipe the tears from his flushed cheeks. He smiled at you, bright as always and your heart absolutely melted. You brought his face closer to yours and kissed him softly on the lips. You pulled away again and just stared into his eyes.

He finally let go of your hand and you disappeared to start him a bath, coming back with a damp cloth to clean him up gently. You helped him up onto his shaky legs and walked him to the bathroom where you undressed and got into the bath with him. After soaking together for a while you dropped you head into the crook of his neck, mouth brushing his ear, warm breath fanning over his pink cheek.

"Sooo... mommy huh?"

im so bad at writing endings to my fics but nevermind

imma be posting a lot over the next few days i apologise, im just trying to crosspost everything from my Ao3

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (118-121)

We head to Vancouver! And Joey makes the news.

If you want to follow along, the series page is here.

TW for a homophobic slur in here.

118. Niceties

Jared calls Bryce back, and manages not to cry on the phone. He packs with the help of an even quieter than usual Julius. He calls his mom, and promises he’ll talk to his dad tomorrow, because he can’t yet, he knows his dad being furious on his behalf is going to be just — too much.

They’re often so united on a hockey standpoint — remember Don’s gone to hundreds if not thousands of Jared’s games over the years, accompanied with almost as many debriefs — that talking to Don about stuff, especially stuff that they’re both angry or upset about, is often hearing his own thoughts from another person. And when he’s trying to suppress some of those thoughts so he doesn’t burst into tears, talking to Don is unhelpful.

He’s got a text from a 604 number when he gets off the phone. Hey, welcome to the Canucks! This is Gabe Markson. I’m probably your new centre. Sorry about the downgrade. Let me know if there’s anything you need. Whether that’s a ride from the airport or help finding a place, we got you.

Gabe!!!

It’s nice, especially since Jared’s used to being basically the only person he knows who uses proper capitalisation and punctuation in his texts, with the exception of Raf and Grace.

Love that Jared immediately approves of Gabe thanks to the magic of punctuation use.

hi new teammate! it says, followed by a slew of hockey related emojis and four blue whales. Jared guesses there aren’t any orcas.

Dmitry! Who forgot to identify himself.

“I can’t believe my mom gets to see you tomorrow and I don’t,” Bryce complains.

Which one is he more jealous of, I ask?

“We’re going to talk shit about you behind your back,” Jared says.

“Pft,” Bryce says, with the certainty of a man who knows his mother would never, even though his husband totally would.

Elaine is a Saint, and you can’t tell Bryce otherwise (or Jared, honestly)

He grabs a smoothie at Booster Juice, can just see Raf’s judgmental eyes, since it’s like, okay, only a smoothie in the loosest sense — chocolate almond milk and banana and frozen yogurt, a vaguely more socially acceptable milkshake for breakfast. Whatever. He deserves it.

The Funky Monkey is delicious. It also contains 67 grams of sugar. But jokes on Raf, the ostensibly more nutritious one he ordered after loser bought the winner a smoothie in their rookie years? Has 73. (and way more protein, but!)

Jared’s kind of figured out the standard of lying about his and Bryce’s marriage is that lying by omission: cool and also often necessary. Lying by lying? Not okay.

The current status of their compromise.

“I think you just jinxed me to get injured like, my first practice,” Jared says.

“Please don’t, our LTIR is literally just a list of all my former linemates right now,” Markson says.

Gabe is unfortunately not exaggerating. But on the bright side, their D is very healthy!

Raf says Oleg Kurmazov tells him not to take anything his brother says seriously, and between that and Markson’s surprise at how tame the text Jared got is, he’s getting a faintly terrifying picture of what to expect. If he got away from Jacobi just to play on a line with another Jacobi, he swears —

Jared is going to suffer and I will enjoy every minute of it.

That seems like the kind of thing the hockey gods would do. Not that Jared believes in them in a non-joking way, but the irony of Bryce and Jared swapping hometown teams feels exactly like something those non-existent hockey gods would do.

I am the hockey gods. It's a fun job, honestly. And also truly is hard to avoid a bit of sadism, I understand the not-real-but-also-don’t-wash-that-jersey IRL hockey gods.

Jared writes ‘Bryce Marcus’, and, in case there was any doubt it’s just a weird name doppelganger, Bryce’s date of birth probably cancels that out.

It’s not like the Canucks can trade him until the season’s over anyway.

Way less scary to write it in a form than tell your GM in a face to face meeting, but still pretty big.

“The leftovers are the best part,” Elaine says serenely when Jared questions her judgment on portion size. “Just pick whatever you like.”

What Jared apparently would like, is everything. Elaine may have made a good call, because he’s famished.

Her mom sense extends to you now too, Jared. And she’s right about leftovers.

“How jealous are you right now?” Jared says.

“I want to be there too,” Bryce complains.

“We had Chinese,” Jared says. “I’m sleeping over.”

“Stop rubbing it in,” Bryce says.

He's so pouty right now.

19. Acclimation

Jared’s nervous, walking into practice. It feels like the first day of school, but more — maybe the first day of school after you transfer. To a school of your enemies.

Evil Orca High.

Jared doesn’t ask what she needs to be downtown for, because he suspects the answer is ‘so I can drive you home’ but she’d make an excuse, so.

I mean, yes, but also: she's going shopping. Bryce didn't get that from nowhere.

but Elaine’s like Bryce — doing nice shit genuinely seems to make them happy.

Jared does not understand.

“We do not do this last names bullshit here,” Kurmazov says sternly, before tossing him a roll. “Dmitry. I don’t care if you pronounce it wrong, everyone does.”

Unlike his poor brother, stuck being referred to solely as Kurmazov by his own adopted hockey child for literal years.

“Please tell me you’re not like doing a Riley-Lapointe, married to a rival thing though,” Foster says.

“Um?” Jared says.

“Okay!” Foster says. “Okay. I. That’s fine!”

Poor Brian has not learned a key GM duty: keeping his inside thoughts on the inside.

“Good,” Foster says. “Maybe have a chat with Gabe? If there’s anything you’re concerned about, or — he’s good people, he’ll listen.”

Brian leaning so hard on 'please talk to our queer player about this' without actually saying it.

“Have I told you how happy we are to have you on the roster?” Brian says, and Jared has the sudden urge to hug him, but he’s pretty damn positive hugging your GM is not appropriate.

As far as GMs go, he is pretty huggable, despite the fact he could still likely snap Jared in two.

“I redecorated your room a little today,” Elaine says. “Bryce told me which mattress you guys like and they delivered it right away, it was terrific, and I’ve put Bryce’s spare clothes in storage, so there’s space in the closet and the dresser for your things, and in the bathroom too — I got a shower caddy, and the medicine cabinet’s —”

Count is at 3 magic beds now. Also she's nervous, bless her: she really wants Jared to feel welcome.

She’s taken the Canucks stuff out too, which he appreciates, because it was funny when he was visiting with Bryce, giving him shit about it, but feels faintly weird now that’s playing for them.

Can you imagine how much shit he would get. Can you.

“It’s like ten years old,” Bryce says. Jared wonders if Bryce and Elaine rehearsed the ‘override Jared’s protests’ together. “Need to play at your best, you know?”

Well, Bryce had to prepare her for Jared's tendency to turn down gifts.

The Canucks aren’t the Oilers, and if Jared wants to stay in the roster, avoid getting sent halfway across the continent to Utica, there’s no slacking off here.

The Canucks' AHL team is now in Abbotsford, which is a mere 70 km from Vancouver, but for literal years it was in upstate New York and boy were emergency recalls of players a fucking mess. Only arrangement I can think of that was less convenient was Montreal's farm team briefly being in Newfoundland, less because of distance (though there was plenty) and more because of weather and lack of alternate forms of transportation if Canadian winter was being Canadian winter (inevitably, it was).

Anyway, Jared has nothing to worry about: those cursed former linemates are all pretty far off from rejoining the roster.

“Okay, we’re both equally awesome,” Jared says.

“You’re more awesome,” Bryce says huffily.

Even their arguments are gross.

120. Machiavellianism

Jared has now seen a lot of Joey Munroe. Like — all of him.

Joey is not having a good day, everybody.

“You and Bryce don’t send each other nudes, do you?” his mom asks instead of saying ‘hello’.

“What!” Jared says. “Mom!”

“It’s a valid concern!” his mom says. “Just tell me you don’t and I’ll drop it!”

The cold fear that went through her body when she saw that article.

“How was your day?” his mom asks.

“Well, no one leaked nudes of me, so better than his,” Jared says.

“You said there were no nudes!” she says.

“I meant it hypothetically mom, oh my god,” Jared says.

They're both actively shrieking at one another at this point.

Greg’s sent him an email with no subject, the body reading ‘Would this be something to worry about? Greg’ because everyone in his life is collectively trying to murder him with embarrassment.

Greg also had the cold fear moment.

Jared’s too mature to respond with ‘No, oh my god’. Well, he clearly isn’t, because that’s exactly what he said to his mother, but he responds to Greg with a simple ‘No, nothing to worry about’, then, after a moment of thought, cc’s Summers in the email so hopefully Bryce doesn’t have to deal with the mortification too.

This is why Jared's Dave's favourite.

Maybe Jared’s too dumb to be Machiavellian. It’s distinctly possible.

I like that Jared has this thought and then later just goes straight back to schemes, some of which work out…poorly

“You see the thing with the Scout?” Jared asks before their game against the Golden Seals, voice carefully pitched low so Dmitry won’t overhear.

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “That was super fucked up.”

“That he’s gay, or—”

I know Jared's fishing. You know Jared's fishing. Gabe just hears a dude saying 'yeah it's fucked up he's gay' when he's already in a clenched stomach bad mood about this.

He feels even more off when he notices Gabe talking to Munroe at centre ice, both of them looking serious. Maybe they know one another, but Gabe wasn’t talking about him like he knew him personally when Jared brought it up. Gabe skates away, skates back when another Scout calls his name, and Jared watches warily. It doesn’t look like a fight, or like Gabe was giving him shit? But then, there’s no way to tell.

Gabe's a good boy. Reminder that the other Scout was Scratch communing with Gabe, as he is obligated to do with every other Torontonian, while Joey silently sighed at him. Already married.

“What’d you tell Munroe?” Jared asks.

“That I was really sorry that happened to him,” Gabe says. “And that I don’t know what he’ll deal with from other teams, but that none of the Canucks are going to be assholes about it.”

“You can’t exactly guarantee that,” Jared says.

“I know our room,” Gabe says, then frowns at him. “I don’t need to tell you not to be an asshole about it, right?”

All members of Canuck leadership would lose their shit if someone was an asshole about it. Well, that's not true. Gabe would do 'I'm really disappointed in your behaviour', and that would hurt the most.

Oh great, Jared’s just — really hitting his accidentally appearing homophobic stride with Gabe lately.

He could not do better if he tried.

The loss isn’t his fault — the Scouts terrifyingly talented first line is responsible for every single goal

Stupid sexy Willy. Stupid shitty Shithead.

“But would you be cool about it?” Jared asks. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to be cool, he’s the YCP rep—”

“Casterley’s the YCP rep for the Flames,” Bryce says. “And he calls the refs faggots every time we get a goal disallowed.”

Hey remember when Andrew Shaw got suspended for calling the ref that exact thing and became the Canadiens' YCP representative after? Because I do.

Also: you may recall Casterley as the dude low-key cheating on his wife in Luke's narrative. He sucks.

“I get it,” Bryce says. “Good luck?”

Jared’s faintly concerned at this rate he’s going to somehow come off as homophobic when he’s coming out, so he probably needs it.

I mean, if anyone could…

“Elaine and I hate it,” Jared says. “No more fights.”

“You can’t just team up with my mom against me,” Bryce mutters.

“We’re an awesome team, though,” Jared says. “The best team.”

Way to shut Bryce down. Man can't argue that.

121. Confession

“I can—” Jared interrupts, because if he doesn’t get it out soon he knows he’s going to balk. “I’m um. I’m married.”

“Okay,” Gabe says, frowning the exact same way Foster did, like he’s confused by the nonsequitor. Which is understandable.

Generally the wedding ring speaks for itself.

“Dude,” Gabe says. “I’m not kidding. You met Stephen. Like, for a minute, but you met him.”

“Your roommate?” Jared asks.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Gabe says, and the living arrangements suddenly make way more sense.

To be fair if there was anywhere someone making NHL money would require a roommate, Vancouver’s near the top of the list.

“Dmitry, all of the vets know for sure,” Gabe says. “Pretty much everyone who’s been here since before this season. I think the entire roster has figured out he’s my boyfriend. We’re not shouting it from the rooftops or anything, because the media—” he makes a face Jared wholly agrees with, “— but we’re not hiding it from the team.”

Stephen routinely hosting wine parties for the WAGs is a pretty big tell, there.

“I don’t think they’d be adopting my husband any time soon,” Jared says before he can stop himself.

“Stephen’s like the grumpiest person alive sometimes, if they adopted him I’m sure your husband will be part of the crew in a day,” Gabe says.

Yeah, he'll do okay.

“I told him you guys have the same sense of humour and view of the world and stuff,” Gabe says.

Jared is no less confused, and now he’s kind of curious what Gabe thinks Jared’s sense of humour and view of the world is.

“Like —” Jared says finally. “Snide? And — cynical? Or—”

“Yeah, he’s going to love you,” Gabe says with a laugh.

A minion of his very own?! Gabe, you shouldn't have!

Schmid’s in the shower when Jared gets back, and who knows when he got in it, how long that’ll last, but he’s a bathroom hog, takes forever with his whole grooming thing — Jared has no clue what takes so long, dude always looks unkempt, but maybe that’s a purposeful look? — so Jared’s probably safe.

Poor Schmid doing nothing but minding his own business in the proximity of the most judgmental man alive.

And that’s on top of Jared getting to play for Bryce’s childhood team, to live in his childhood home with Bryce’s mom. Jared’s pretty much living the life Bryce would have wanted growing up. Except not even, because Jared’s probably living the life Bryce would never have dreamt he could have possibly have when he was growing up. And there wasn’t a hint of resentment in Bryce’s voice when he told Jared he was happy for him.

“I love you, you know that?” Jared asks.

“I know,” Bryce says, which Jared needs to hear more than ‘I love you too’ right now, though Bryce says it immediately after, because he’s Bryce.

Bryce <3

“Chaz could come, it could be like,” Bryce says. “Chill. Like, we could grab drinks or dinner or something somewhere. Maybe not like — I don’t know if I’d be ready for him to like, know who we are to each other, not when I don’t actually know him, but like — meeting him’s the first step, you know?”

Chaz will not find this chill. Chaz will find this the opposite of chill, in fact.

“Because I’m snide and cynical,” Jared says. It maybe comes out a little snidely, because seriously, how is Bryce still confused.

“No you aren’t,” Bryce says.

“Bryce,” Jared says.

“But like in a good way!” Bryce protests. “I like it from you!”

<333333 Bryce

Though it’s faintly worrying that Gabe picked up on those things within weeks of meeting him, especially because Jared has been on his best behaviour the whole time. Apparently Jared’s best behaviour’s still noticeably snide.

Such a lack of self-knowledge. And actual good behaviour. Jared is admirably true to himself, though!

[ikeromantic]

The First Wound

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 3000 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 10-11 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 10 of a series.

First: Bravery Becomes Her

Previous: Under His Skin

Late morning sun streamed through the office window. Despite the hour, Chevalier still felt tired, but there was no time to rest. The letter in his hands was proof enough of that, if he needed it. 

Nokto leaned against a bookshelf on the other side of the room, watching Chev as he read the missive. “What do you think of that, King Highness?”

“We need to take immediate action.” Chev didn’t look up from the letter as he spoke, only read through the few lines again to make sure he’d missed nothing. 

“I figured.” Nokto shrugged.

“The woman from last night is the source of this intelligence?” Nokto’s ability to mix business with pleasure was of some interest. Chevalier could not fathom how he did it. The clown was able to turn his entertainment to use more often than not. A useful skill, if one Chev had no intention of cultivating for himself. 

“Yup. My spy is top notch.” He grinned. “And she’s not bad in bed either!”

Chev snorted. The statement didn’t deserve a response. He burnt the informant’s letter, watching as the candle flames ate the paper, leaving only a dusting of ash on the desk. He swept it into the fireplace. 

Nokto wasn’t good with long silences. Or patience. The letter was only just disposed of when he spoke up again. “So what are we going to do, King Highness?”

“I’ll call an assembly tomorrow.” Chev steepled his fingers, already working through potential outcomes and the plans he’d need to counter or further them. 

“I guess we’re going to be busy then, aren’t we? I’d better go give my agent a proper thank you then, while I still can.” Nokto’s smile widened and he clapped his hands together to punctuate the statement. He started to turn as if he was finally going to leave, but he paused mid-motion. “That reminds me. I heard you’ve been enjoying your favorite mistress every night?” 

Chevalier felt a flare of annoyance. It was to be expected, of course. His every action was scrutinized, discussed, analyzed, and then passed around, growing further from the truth in each retelling. “It seems there has been quite the embellishment added to the rumors I heard yesterday.”

“Clavis was gleefully spreading half-truths around, last I saw.” Nokto smirked. 

“Ugh.” Chev couldn’t suppress a sigh. Of course Clavis was the source of the most ridiculous falsehoods. 

Nokto’s smirk widened into a full smile. “That’s why the rumor that the Belle is your mistress spread so far so fast.” His expression turned serious. “You know what that means though. The extremists have to know by now and there’s no way they’re going to ignore it. Worst case scenario, she could die -”

“And what if she does?” Chev cut his brother off with a gesture. His disregard was the best shield for her, or so he told himself. And if he needed to sacrifice her, he would. He would. The mental repetition did not ease the thorn in his heart.

“I guess it doesn’t matter, but if Emma disappears . . .” Nokto smirked again, “there won’t be a single girl left in Rhodolite that will smile at you.”

Chevalier fixed him with an icy glare. “Ridiculous.” He got up to leave, signaling this conversation was over. He had something to take care of, something he needed to do now.

“Are you really just going to let her die if it comes to that?”

“Yes. If worst comes to worst. Understand?” He didn’t look back at Nokto when he replied. He wasn’t sure the clown would be convinced, seeing his expression.

“Interesting.” Nokto sounded as if he wanted to say more, but was wisely silent as Chev walked quickly away.

Luke was easy to find. Lazing in the garden, a plate of honeyed candies on the ground beside him. 

“Get up.”

“Wha - King Highness?” Luke blinked and rubbed at his eyes. “What do you want?”

Chev grimaced. It was hard to believe sometimes that this was his brother. At least he had no pretensions toward the throne. Not that his obsessions were harmless but for now - “I need you to take this list to the Belle. She’s the only one who will know where to find these books.” He pulled out a hastily scribed list of titles.

Luke pulled himself up with a groan. “But I was just getting to the good part of my nap.”

Chevalier continued to glare in silence.  

“Yeah yeah. You don’t care.” He scratched his rear and yawned. “So where’s Emma?”

“She went into town with Clavis. I’d like her to pick these up before she comes back.” 

Luke finally took the note and read over it. “These look really boring.”

Chev felt his back teeth grind as he held back his annoyance. “You will need to hurry.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Luke grinned. “Maybe she’ll be so happy to see me that she’ll want to stop for honeycakes.” He ambled past Chevalier as placidly as a bear with a full belly. 

As much as Chev wanted to hurry him along, he needed this to seem like just another selfish request. Merely a well-timed errand. He hoped it would well timed. If Luke was too slow - no, he would not worry over it. This was merely a test, a step in the larger dance, with little real danger. 

Still, for the rest of the day he wondered how Luke’s errand went. He kept glancing toward the window as if he might catch sight of the youngest prince returning with the Belle. Chevalier reassured himself that she must be fine. Any other outcome would have gotten back to him sooner. 

Yet when the soft knock came at his door, something in his chest loosened. She was alright. She was here. He stepped out of the hot bath and pulled on a robe. He wanted to see her far more than he wanted another moment in the hot water of the tub. 

The Belle came into his room with an armful of books. Her gaze drifted across the room, but she didn’t see him as he stepped into the room from his bath. Her shoulders fell and she let out a sigh. The disappointed look on her face pricked at Chev’s heart in unexpected ways. After a moment, she raised her chin, straightened, and turned to leave. 

Chevalier quickly crossed the room and closed the door just as she opened it. “Wait.”

She jumped and let out a gasp of surprise. “P-Prince Chevalier?”

He gave a faint smile when she turned to look up at him. A shiver ran through her body that he could feel all too well through the thin fabric of his bathrobe. Desire rose in him, thick and hot and hungry. It would be all too easy to press her back against the door and claim her lips, her body . . . 

Chev forced his racing heart to slow. He moved his gaze from her face to what she carried. “Ahh. I see. This is why you’re here.”

The Belle looked down at the book as if she were almost surprised to see them there. “Oh! Yes! These are the books you sent Luke on an errand for. And -” She pulled a book from the stack with a flourish. “The foreign title I promised you awhile back.”

He examined the cover, the style of the lettering and the author’s name. “This is another of the books based on the legends of King Arthur?”

Her smile was beautiful. “So you’re familiar with it?”

“From hearsay.” He took the thick volume from her.

“This is one of the love stories about the knight Lancelot and Queen Guinevere.”

Chevalier stepped away from her and toward his reading couch. “Oh?”

She started to reply but only then seemed to really notice his state of undress. Her eyes moved slowly down his frame, tracing the lines of his body where the thin bathrobe hugged his damp skin. Her face flushed with heat. After a moment, she looked down and took a deep breath. 

Her reaction amused him. He’d been around many women that could play the game of seduction, pretending attraction, blushing at will. Fake sighs and fluttering eyelashes. With Emma there was no pretense. 

“Did you come alone?”

“Hm? Yes. Of course. It’s not that late so I thought it would be fine.” She raised her head briefly and then looked down again, cheeks still hot. 

He laughed softly. “So you don’t value your own life?”

Her chin snapped up at that. “What does that mean?”

“I suppose I have to spell it out for you.” He pretended exasperation, well enough that she took a little step back from him. “I assumed you already heard about the anti-war nobles and their ridiculous rumor.”

She frowned as if only now considering what this would look like. Her coming to his room alone, at night. And she still hadn’t considered the very real danger to herself. 

Chevalier wished she was a little more selfish. A little more concerned about saving her own skin. “For someone who might be attacked anywhere, anytime, you walk around alone quite often.”

The Belle shrugged uneasily. “Well . . . I wouldn’t expect to be targeted here in the palace, with such tight defenses.”

He scoffed. “Do you think I would ever need to draw my sword if the palace defenses were perfect?”

Realization dawned on her slowly. Chevalier could almost track the memories as they made their way through her mind. 

“This palace is a lair of beasts. It is a place where the weak are subjugated, exposed to cruelty. Devoured.” Chev took a step toward her, conflicted in purpose but drawn forward either way. He wanted her to be afraid. He wanted to protect her innocence. 

He took her chin in his hand and captured her gaze. “You’ve meddled, Belle. And now you do not have the option to simply stay out of it.” 

She stared at him like a frightened rabbit, her courage only embers. 

Chevalier picked her up and set her on the bed. He pinned her hands above her head, letting the books fall to the side. The urge to devour her was almost overwhelming as he pressed her back into the soft sheets. He could feel her warmth, smell her light perfume. 

Fire leapt in her gaze, bright and hot, and unafraid. “What do you think you are doing?”

He leaned close, his lips grazing her cheek. “Trust no one. Not me, nor the servants, not the other princes . . .” Chev felt a tremor through his own flesh, the tension of self-denial. He used it to harden his gaze. “Consider anyone and everyone your enemy.” He drew a line along her neck, down to her collar bone, toying with the clasp that held the top of her gown closed.

Though she shivered at his touch, she did not back down. “Is that how things are in the palace? A matter of fact?” She tried to pull from his grasp but could not budge him. “You can’t trust even your family because anyone might betray you someday?”

Chevalier smiled. “That is the way of royalty.”

“Isn’t it painful for you?”

The gentle appeal in the question was what surprised him. Not the question itself. He hid his reaction behind a mask of disinterest. “Why would it?”

“Because for me, a life of distrust would be painful. And lonely.”

His smile twisted for a moment as her words struck too close to the icy walls of his heart. “You see, Belle, that is what makes you a decent human being.” And I, only a beast, he did not add.

Her eyes clouded as she studied his face. “Prince Chevalier, are you saying that you are not a decent human being?”

Chevalier gave a mocking laugh, ignoring the way it pained him to speak of this to her. “Of course not. They call me the Brutal Beast, remember? I harbor no human emotion.” The words twisted in his gut uncomfortably. No human emotion . . . a lie, and she was proof, though she did not seem to realize.

She reached out and grasped his fingers where he held her arms pinned above her head. 

He almost let go as she gave him a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “What?”

“Prince Chevalier.” She gifted him with another sweet smile. “You are no beast. You are a person.”

For a moment, he was stunned to silence. He’d killed in front of her. Held a bare blade to her throat. Even now, had her pinned to his bed as if to deflower her, and this - this was her reaction? He could not help but laugh. “I never expected you to say that.” He toyed with her earlobe, eliciting a sharp breath from her. “What have your eyes been seeing all this time? I have no recollection of humane behaviour on my part.”

“Mmm, if that’s what you think, then it’s only because you haven’t realized it yourself Prince Chevalier.” She moved her shoulders in a slight shrug. “I won’t deny that you can be as cruel and merciless as a beast. But that’s not all you are.”

He didn’t know how to respond. The carefully cultivated ice within him cracked, and a trickle of warmth opened in his heart. A vulnerability. A weakness. Yet he could not find it in him to do what he must to staunch that flow before it grew. And it would. Even now, her warmth penetrated his cold depths, and he could not bear to let go nor to push her away. Chev looked at the scattered books rather than let her see the struggle in his gaze.

The Belle was relentless in her affection. “I want to learn even more about you, Prince Chevalier. Everything about you.”

“Ridiculous. You would risk your life for something so trivial?” He fought himself, pulling the mask back into place. “You realize if you get further involved with me, you increase the possibility that you will die?”

She nodded, her jaw clenching with that stubborn streak of hers. “I was chosen as the Belle. It’s my duty to judge whether you and the other princes are worthy of the throne. I won’t -” she cleared her throat, “I won’t back out now.”

He let her pull her hands away this time as he slid his palm down her arm and along her side. Barely grazing cloth and skin. She seemed to fragile, like blown glass, that he could forget the steel core of her. That foolish bravery that burned in her heart. “You’re a fool, you know?” 

She pressed into his touch, breath catching in her throat. 

“If you’re going to talk big, prove here and now that you have the brains to protect yourself.” He laid his other hand on her chest, over her heart. Chevalier could feel the way it galloped beneath his palm, reckless as its uncautious owner. “Consider the risk. What if you were captured by the anti war faction? What palace secrets could you leak . . .” He exerted a light pressure, a warning.

Her eyes widened.

“It could be to my advantage to just kill you now.” 

“No!”

Chev pressed his forehead against hers. “Then use your brain. It’s the only weapon you have.” This, he thought, was a battle of will. The Belle against herself, and he was coach and referee and audience in one. 

Her breath was ragged now, and coming almost as fast as the wild beating of her heart. Daring and fear and lust and other, darker emotions fought across her expression as she battled for control. 

He watched her slowly exert calm, forcing her breath to even out and even her pulse to slow. 

“Prince Chevalier, are you familiar with the story ‘One Thousand and One Nights?”

“Of course.” He smiled. “The tale of a mad king who brings a young girl to his bedroom and then threatens to kill her the next day, night after night.”

She nodded. “Y-yes. And she risks her life to tell him a story each night. She survives by stopping each time on a cliffhanger and promising to finish the story the following night.”

“Yes and eventually he amends his ways and becomes a good ruler. Get to your point.”

The Belle gave him a wry smile. “I’ll tell you a story now, Prince Chevalier. And whatever it is you want to do to me, you can do it when I finish. If you still want to. Deal?”

He didn’t much like being compared to the mad king but he was curious what story she wanted to tell. He gave a noncommittal grunt, and let go of her. “It’s simplistic. But fine.” He laid down next to her, pretending not to notice the way she rubbed her chest where he’d pressed down against it. 

She turned to face him, her mouth opening in surprise as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Chevalier knew he shouldn’t. But he could no more stop himself from holding her in this moment than he could stop himself from breathing. The feeling was nothing like described in his romance novels where characters always understood their role, even if they could not see how it would end. 

For Chev, it was the opposite. He saw all too clearly how this would go. A handful of tragic possibilities. But he could not discern himself in the pattern, or analyze why he gave in when he knew the potential cost to them both. What he knew was that she felt right and good in his arms. He gave her a smug smile, “Just know that if you waste my time, you will pay the price.” 

“Alright.” She took a deep breath. “Once upon a time, there lived  a prince . . .”

He let the words wash over him, meaningless words, lost in the music of her voice and the sensual movement of her lips as she spoke. Chevalier watched her until her eyelids grew heavy and she fell asleep, still in the middle of her storytelling. Then he tucked her carefully against him and let himself doze. If he dreamed, it was of her. And when he woke, she was there too. And whether it was the beast in him, or the man, her presence left him calm and tensed all at once. 

In the throne room, another petal fell from Beauty’s Time. A warning and a measure, the petal lay beneath the glass dome, as red as blood. The first wound scored in a duel of hearts, but whose?

Next: Rumors and Bad Tidings

[lilflowerpot]

hi hello okok so like ive had to reread LB a couple of times, not finishing them mind you, because i keep forgetting what chapter im at and also because its like i read the more recent chapters with my eyes closed and part of my brain is just... somewhere else idk its just idk

andand im currently reading chap 23 so lemme just say that lotor is being a great therapist 👍 mans is trying 👍👍 his very best might i add 👍👍👍 alsoalso i want to cuddle pile pidge, keith and lotor cus they deserve all the love and hugs in the world ever because they been through it and it makes me sad :(( along with the rest of course but i want them to Bond with lotor first before doing that cus uh yeah :D the cuddle pile will not have animosity in it thank you very much >:p

uhm i think youve had enough of my nonsensical rambling now so i would just like to say that youve become my idol in writing style?? idk i have no idea what the proper word for it is but what im saying is i dream of writing like you its just the way you translate your thoughts to words is so beautiful and captivating to me and its just so so so mesmerizing that it practically brings everything you write to life. well, to me anyway. i guess you can consider this ramble of mine a love letter to you of sorts? please don't mind the lack of correct punctuation i swear i know what that is these are just basically my t h o u g h t s. anyways youre amazing and i love you, your work and just whatever you do byebyeeee <3

Lotor is constantly doing his very best, and as such deserves only good things ♡

oh but a cuddle pile is //sorely// needed & deserved, please, my kids are all in over their heads and far too young to be shouldering the weight of the literal universe, let them rest.

You're very kind to be so complimentary, my love! It's always heartwarming to know that someone feels my writing really resonates with them, especially when they express as much so sweetly 🥰🥰🥰

[bbina]

i fckng hate second chances with every fiber of my being and every living cell in my body. once its over, its over. if u fckd up IMMEDIATELY ✂️✂️✂️ i hate it when a characters get second chances after fckng it up real bad like NO U DO NOT DESERVE ANOTHER CHANCE AND OTHER MC ALSO DOES NOT DESERVE TO RISK GETTING HURT AGAIN

on the contrary tho, for btl, i do think yn should get another chance? is it another chance? well, wonbin didnt really give her a chance to explain herself, he went ahead of himself and created assumptions. and i know that every one says yn is the problem cus had she not offered the fake dating set up this wouldnt have happened BUT wonbin had no problem agreeing to it so....wouldnt really say yn is the root problem. the root problem is their lack of effective communication skills, emotional management/control and listening skills!!! wonbin im sorry but running away was a stupid af thing to do and i know ur hurt but u literally made assumptions after seeing 2ppl hug. babes ppl can hug platonically, believe me. thats all i have to say. *bows, drops mic and leaves stage*

im sorry for the sudden rant when this discourse was already over like a week ago i could not help it. ive been following u for a while but i am a silent reader and this is my first time sending an ask to anyone here in general. im so nervous. is my english okay? i swear i know proper punctuations but im too lazy to do it rn rip. i just want to say ive never been so invested in an eng au cus i usually read the ones in my native language cus THEM ANGST HIT DIFFERENT BRO anyway, i love ur writing sm <33 makes me wanna start writing again as well if it werent for my busy af shed (graduating student things). cant wait for the next updates ✨️🫶🫶

but the angst material is tew gewd don’t you think? second chances trope is nice and all if done right 🤪 maybe some groveling here and there and viola! perfection

most valid btl theory ive seen 😫 they’re both dumb 🤝 and did mistakes,, (yn made a bigger mistake tho) but point still stands

nah ur sudden rant about the week old discourse is perfectly okay. any rant about btl is 👌 cus im curious on how each person takes in the story and seeing a bunch of different reactions is what keeps me going 😫🤝 AND AGAIN IM HONORED TO BE ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE YOU SENT AN ASK TO 🙏 your english is great!!!! thank you so much for reading!! and i hope whatever i put out or something makes u want to go back to writing 🙏 i myself is a graduating student too but i still find the time to insert my hobby which is this because i love it so much and its honestly my stress reliever (contrary to popular belief i write more eloquently when i’m either stressed or having a headache idek why lol maybe it gets my brain juice all worked up)

[bbgthoma]

HELLO DIA. I HAVE WRITTEN MORE THOMA.

just some fluffy stuff in which you confess to thoma 😍😍😍 ENJOY (also this was not proofread, but i did use proper punctuation haha) --------------------------------------------

This was it. Today was the day.

The day you’ve been waiting for for so long. The day where you finally let out all your feelings. Everything you’ve been experiencing. All those times you felt warm and happy with him. 

Today was the day you’d finally confess.

You had it all planned out; you would confess during the Naganohara Fireworks festival tonight. You had everything planned out in your head. 

Now all you had to do was execute it.

You and Thoma walked through the festival, looking at different stalls. 

“I was thinking- uh- hey!”, the blonde exclaimed as you took a bite of his dango. You smiled at him whilst you chewed the piece you stole, him chuckling at you.

“Fine, if you want it so bad I’ll just buy you one.” he said, heading to a stall.

“Wait no! I told you I was going to buy the food, Thoma!” you shouted, running after him.

When the time came, you and him sat down near the edge of the cliff, staring at the ethereal star-studded sky, waiting for the fireworks. 

Now was the time. 

“Hey Thoma..” you said quietly, suddenly feeling the urge to run away. 

“Yes, [name]?” Thoma looked at you, smiling softly. Oh how stunning his smile was. It was enough to make your heart leap out of your chest. 

“I-I uhm, I have something to tell you.” you managed to sputter out.

He cocked his head curiously.

You took a deep breath.

“I have trouble with my feelings. And I have never experienced anything remotely close to what I feel when I’m around you. When I’m around you, everything feels light and airy. When I’m around you, I feel my world spinning. When I’m around you, I feel like my problems are nothing but a distant storm. When I am around you, I feel complete.” you ramble, your face taking on a pink hue.

 “I never understood what love was until I met you, Thoma.” 

He was blushing, hard. His eyes were slightly widened. The fireworks had gone off already, but that didn’t seem to matter to the two of you anymore.

“[Name]...” 

Oh no. Not that tone. No one ever uses that tone when their crush has just confessed to them. 

Fuck.

“I’m so sorry… but I can’t accept your confession.” he said meekly, looking at the ground. 

“Oh.” 

“You’re a great person and I truly value your-” “No, it’s fine.” You painfully smiled, as tears threatened to flow, “I understand.”

“Can we still be friends, at least?” he asked, still refusing to look at you. 

“Of course.” You tried to say confidently, but it came out as a pained whisper. 

“I’m gonna go now. Thank you, I had a lot of fun today.” You said, turning away and walking off. 

He didn’t say anything back. 

Thoma POV

He loved you. He really did. He loved you so much. 

But he didn’t deserve you. 

He worked all the time, and can’t seem to say ‘no’ to people. 

How can he subject you to a guy like that? Besides, there’s so many better candidates for you.

Like Ayato. Or Ayaka. 

Yoimiya. Itto.

Heizou. Kuki. 

They are much more renowned. He’s just a simple housekeeper. Why would you ever want him?

They are better looking. He wears simple clothes, with a simple ponytail. How could anyone find him attractive?

They have much more interesting personalities. All he’s known as is “The Fixer of Inazuma”. You would get bored of him, wouldn’t you?

Though even with all of this, you still loved him. And he couldn’t understand why.

So, he rejected you. It hurt. It hurt so much to let you go like that. But, it was for your own good.

Right?

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

I LIED ITS ANGSTY LMAO 💀💀💀💀 IM SORRY I JUST COULDNT STOP THINKING ABT THAT INSECURE THING YOU WROTE SO 😭😭😭

over the weekend ill make a fluffy ending i would never leave you on an angsty ending like that dia </333 i may be brutal but im not THAT brutal

feel free to sob

WHY’D U DO THAT TO ME😭