#i paid for that?? like ofc i would share but HOW DO U NOT ASK. am i insane for this?? like id die before i took someones food/drink without | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anonymous-fartist · 7 months

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ok hear me out but have u ever thought of torture w it? Like ofc consensual but like chaining someone up and continuously ripping mad ass in their lap ((they can't get away))

or someone doing THAT to YOU🧁🌺🎀

My boyfriend sent me this fucking amazing scenario and it's all I've been able to think about

So I've written this piece for it

Enjoy, I know I fucking did ^-^

CONTENT WARNINGS: Gas (of course), restraints, dubious consent/mild torture (with the gas), mild knifeplay, read at your own risk fellas ~~~

You’d known this would happen, really. When he’d taken you out to eat — to that lovely pasta place you two loved to visit — he’d ordered way more than you knew he could handle. All that free bread, too. You’d watched him. It didn’t take long for his stomach to start its familiar protest, gurgling and grumbling under his shirt while he drove. Each time it did, he’d wince, and pull a pained little face. You could tell he was trying to ignore it, to keep it out of the conversation, but you just couldn’t let that happen.

You were poking fun. Literally, and figuratively. Teasing, taunting, reaching out to prod at his gut. He couldn’t exactly push you away — you were in the passenger seat, right next to him — and with every jab, you could feel how full he was. Poor guy. He grit his teeth, and tried to endure it. “I’m fine.” He’d insisted. “Just… lay off it, ok?” Like hell you’d listen to that. More teasing, poking, bratty little retorts. Almost like you were having a conversation with his bubbling belly.

You could tell it pissed him off. He furrowed his dark brows, cheeks burning and shoulders hunched. He kept hissing little demands, pleading, asking you to stop. Softly at first, but more forcefully, the more you teased and sassed. You ignored him, like a brat. By the time you’d gotten home, he practically slammed the door of the car shut, storming inside stiffly. Fuming.

You followed close behind. “What’s the matter??” You giggled, hovering over his shoulder. “Too embarrassed to admit you have gas??”

You saw his jaw clenched the second you uttered those words. His sharp eyes darting, staring daggers at you. You’d never seen him look so stern. It sent a chill down your spine, and you faltered a little. Clearly not enough to deter him, though. He shot an arm out, grabbing at your wrist with surprising strength. His grip was so tight it hurt. You couldn’t have pulled away even if you wanted to — much to his amusement — and with a firm yank, he pulled you closer to him, lowering his mouth to your ear. His voice was husky.

“I warned you to watch your fucking mouth.” He seethed. Oh dear god…

He practically pulled you off your feet, dragging you halfway across the house, towards your shared bedroom. He was rough, and the corners of his lips twitched up into a sadistic-looking grin. His stomach continued to growl, softly, under his hand.

Grrrmmm…

He winced. If he was in pain, it didn’t last long, though, when he threw you carelessly onto the bedspread. His usual tenderness had all but entirely seeped from him, replaced with frustration and… well, a killer stomachache, you supposed. You barely had time to retain your composure before he grabbed you again. Your eyes went wide.

In your daze, he’d gone digging through the drawers by the bed. In his hands, he held a thick length of chain. By this point, his smirk had spread into a full grin, and he regarded you with wide, dark eyes. “Teach you a fuckin’ lesson, huh?” He muttered, almost to himself, as he yanked your arms up. You yelped — which he paid no attention to — and felt the cold restraint rubbing against your wrists.

Good lord. He was tying you to the bedframe.

“What the fuck-?” You managed to stammer, before a low growl cut you off. You couldn’t tell whether it came from his throat of his belly. He ignored your confusion. The restraint was tight, and held your poor arms up high, behind your head. No matter how hard you squirmed, the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Shit. You instantly regretted letting him practice so much on you.

He sat before you on the bed, taking a second to admire you. He chuckled deeply to himself, his voice rumbling in his chest. That laugh. It frightened you. “Not so cocky now, huh??” It was his turn to tease. His tone caused your cheeks to burn, and you lowered your eyes, squirming. Trying to tug on the chains. No luck.

He shuffled closer, putting a firm hand on your knee. He was warm. There was no way he was gonna… not now, right?? All because you teased him a little?? … He shuffled a little, from his place in front of you, sitting himself back down. Right in your lap. His weight pressed against your thighs, and the gesture took you by surprise, your eyes going wide.

His poor, overstuffed belly gave a low gurgle. It was a more desperate sound, and he huffed, placing his other hand on his side. Giving it a quick rub. “I can’t say you were wrong, though.” He chuckled. “I’ve been, ahem… holding back. For your sake.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean??You cocked your head, shooting him a confused look. All he did was laugh. And give a soft grunt. The unmistakable sound echoed through the room, and you felt it ripple against your lap, heating the area where he sat. You went stiff. No way he just…

But then the smell hit. God, it was awful. Fucking putrid, really, a disgusting concoction of whatever bullshit he’d eaten throughout the day. He sighed, in relief no doubt, while you thrashed about, turning your head, trying pathetically to escape the damn stench. Your arms were bound. Your couldn’t plug your nose, no matter how bad you tried. It burned.

His sadistic grin never once left his face, eyes scouring your writhing form. He was clearly amused. You could tell by the smug lilt in his voice. “I saved that just for you.” He seethed, grinding himself further against your leg. “Smells lovely, hmm?” You practically gagged. He clicked his tongue.

“Tsk, tsk, so unappreciative. Such a brat.”

You felt ashamed to be blushing at his words.

“God, that’s foul…” You managed to mutter. He scoffed, narrowing his eyes. That look, the one that made your blood run cold, returned to his face.

… He leaned over your pitiful form, reaching into a drawer behind you. He pulled out something metallic, that glinted under the dim light seeping through the closed blinds. A blade. Why the fuck did he have a knife on hand??

Never-mind that, though, because you had no time to think. Within a few seconds, he’d twirled it in his trained hand, and pressed the cold metal right against your collarbone. Your breath hitched. It was so close. You really had to watch that temper of his. “Watch yourself.” He demanded, shifting around in his seat. Still firmly pressed into your lap.

Grrrgggllmm…

He let out a shaky breath, biting his lip, and forced out another fetid, rippling burst. He strained to push it out, and you were worried he’d let the knife at your throat slip in the struggle. But he held it still.

Jesus Christ, the smell. Somehow worse the second time. You let out a sharp cough, and forced yourself to hold your breath. Blinking back the tears from your watery eyes. He didn’t seem to take too kindly to this, and with his only free hand, reached up towards your face, clamping it over your mouth. You couldn’t breathe.

You had no choice. You could usually hold it for a while, but god, it had taken you by surprise. Air was running thin, and it wasn’t long before you were forced to inhale sharply, through your nose.

Goddamn repulsive. He seemed overjoyed by your whines.

“You love it.” He hissed, pressing the cold metal further against your nape. One wrong move, and it’d slice straight from shoulder to jaw. “Go on, tell me. You love it.” You had no choice but to comply.

“I-… I love it.” Your words were muffled into his hands. His grin twitched cruelly.

“It smells good, huh??” “It… fuck-… it smells so good…”

So fucking degrading. You could tell it excited him. His rhythmic grinding against your thigh told you more than enough.

“You want more. Go on. Beg for me.” … You considered resisting, but a flick of his wrist reminded you who was in charge. You let out a strangled whimper. “I said beg.”

“Shit-… Please. Please, I want more.”

He tittered in mock disgust. “You’re fucking filthy.”

But he did as you’d asked. He lowered the hand clasping at your face, and pressed the heel of his palm into his stomach, causing it to growl and churn. He was coaxing more out, you could hear it. You have a last-ditch effort to tug at your wrists, trying one last time to free yourself. Hah. No luck.

The next one sounded awful. Loud, long, and almost sickly, damn near surprising him as well. It was a miracle that he could handle his own damn brand. Was this the kind of shit he was holding daily?? It almost made you regret picking on him so frequently.

“Go on.” He urged you. You were too light-headed to protest. You just hoped to god he’d spare you soon.

“It smells lovely-…” You stammered, swallowing back a gag as you spoke. “Th-… Thank you.”

“Good.”

For your good behaviour, he loosened the grip on his knife, giving you a little more room to breathe. Not that it’d help. Every single sniffle was tainted. And there you were, drinking it in, begging like some sort of animal. If he’d wanted to teach you a lesson, he’d made his point clear as fucking day.

But he wasn’t done with you yet. There was plenty more where that came from, you could tell. Might as well make the most of it. You could be there for a while.

#this shit bro #I'll be the first to admit I hadn't considered it too much #but NOW #now I certainly am #I love it when ppl send me scenarios babe if ur reading this keep them coming #eproctophilia #eprocto #gas kink #gassy #fart kink #farting #anonymous rambles #gassy guys

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g-xix · 9 months

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We need a chippo crimes dating headcanons! 🥰

TheBurntChip Dating Headcanons

Yes you can have some Chipper dating HC's!! Bro is TOO FINE. Also, REQUESTS OPEN, REQUEST WHAT MORE U WANNA SEE ME WRITE!!!

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-I feel like dating Chippo would be such a roles reversed relationship -Like, he sort of takes the wifey responsibilities whilst you focus on the convential 9-5 job, smth heavy duty like law asw -He finishes his podcast/stuff and makes steaks on Tuesdays, but otherwise throws smth in the oven or gets you takeout with him before coming home -In love with his own steaks -Mf would litr be moaning at the table about how good his steaks are whilst u two eat together -Always wants to eat with you as well -If the two of you are long distance, i.e. you had to go overseas to work, he'd fuck up his sleep schedule just to facetime you and eat dinner (or breakfast) with you on call with him -Also tho he does book holidays for j you (sometimes with your friends asw) because you rarely manage to get down time from work + he knows getting a break is so therapeutic for you -Often go on holidays together to places too tho #baecation -Your favourite is when you went to Dubai together, because he decided to vlog "Giving my girlfriend her dream holiday", where he paid for your shopping, had your nails done, and took you to quadbike for the first time -Obviously then the next day he took you to the golf course so that he could have a full day of golfing to repay for the time spent "doing that boring spa shit" -He complains about spas and self-care things on the camera and to his mates -Secretly it's his little guilty pleasure to do the occasional facemask with you every so often -First time it happened he was drunk and showed you a TikTok of some guy getting his face fully masked, treated and rolled, and Chippo had the audacity to ask "Why don't you do that to me :(" With a sad little face. -His sad little face ofc made you get out all your products and lay him down on the bed to get his face done -Decided to film it for a TikTok -Started with a sheet-mask which he slurred that it looked like he was joining a cult… -Also had to get a hand mirror so he could constantly see himself bc he insisted on knowing what he looked like constantly -Used the quartz roller to roll the mask over which smoothed it out really aesthetically -Managed to convince him to pluck the stray hairs of his brows -He made a big fuss over the first pluck and said you were going to kill him with those things -You've not been allowed to touch his brows since. -Finished by putting some cooling and hydrating gel all over his face, which he babbled Felt like getting a facial, before continuously asking you whether that's what cum feels like, making you flush bright red as you wrapped up the video and made it into a TikTok -Next morning, Chip looks in mirror and wonders why his face looks so nice and nourished already -Sees the TikTok and is horrified at how he acted and what all he said -Shows you the video and cries WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO MY FACE!?! -Troops groupchat post the video in chat and are commenting allsorts of woooow, Chippo soft launch, Chippy's slaying 😜, one of the girlies 💅 -Chip got over it though. -Acts all unhappy about what you've renamed the skincare incident, but whenever you put a sheet mask on whilst watching a movie, he asks for one as well -He's had compliments that he's been glowing, whenever he does the sheet masks anyways, so he figured there was no harm in just putting one of those on

NSFW HC's: -Deffo an ass guy -Doggy's the favourite position because he loves seeing it shake + hearing the clap 👏 -I feel like he'd be into thick girlies asw, like, he doesn't care if you have tummy or stretch marks, he's just obsessed with the package behind that (one for my thick girlies bc i need more appreciation in lyfe) -Probs has a shared playlist which he sent with the message yo put songs into this playlist u wanna have sex to -Loves when you hickey him up -Absolutely loves going into the shoot, hickeys standing out bright purple on his neck. Wears them like a badge of honour basically -Isn't toxic or protective over what you wear either -Wraps his arm around you regardless of what you're wearing because at the end of the day he knows he's gonna be the one to take them off -I feel like he's a fan of face sitting asw -He was first to suggest it which was a bit scary because you felt as though he was just speaking spontaneously/impulsively and didn't actually know what he wanted -Was quite insistent on trying it- litr begged at one point which made u give it a try -Kinda cautiously hovering over his face, not sitting bc you j wanted to triple check "are you sure?" -He answered by wrapping his arms around your thighs n pulling you down + onto his tongue -Loves you pulling on his hair asw -Arching back, fingers knotting his hair + pulling him as you moan n grind down onto his tongue -Bro would get absolutely pussy drunk too -His arms are hooked around your thighs and basically clamping you down -Literally still eating you out whilst you're climaxing -Will not stop until you tell him to, he is perfectly happy just being down there and at your disposal -More of a giver than receiver in terms of oral -Has said on the podcast "I don't know what to do when I'm getting head! Do I put my hands on their head- but what if I accidentally hurt them?! And what noises do you even make, because I am NOT letting out a moan-" -He does moan in the bedroom. -Is always saying "Oh my God" or something else when he's bottoming out inside you -Doesn't rly talk much during sex tho -Jokingly degrades you whilst you're not having sex (Like calling you a degrading name just for jokes when the two of you are doing something) but leans more towards praise whilst actually having sex

Your songs + stories behind them: -City of Angel, 24kGoldn - Your lockdown spent with Chip consisted of doing everything with this song in the background. Just hearing it when it crops up in the 1000+ song playlist when you're on the road reminds you of the waterballoon fight in the kitchen, the TikTok challenges you'd film, and when Chip tried to cook something other than steaks every Thursday -Would I Lie To You? Charles & Eddie - There was a period of time where you were questioning whether Chip was cheating on you because of the way you knew he was lying when he said he was at the Fella's Studios after some stupid times like eight o'clock. Turns out he was organising your birthday celebration, and you felt stupid for even letting the thought cross your mind that Chip would be disloyal… You heard this song at the party and added it to the liked songs because of how much it resonated with your thinking earlier. -Bassline Junkie, Dizzee Rascal - highlight of your year is going to rave with all your mates (Harry, Mia, Will, Megan, Theo n the lot). First year you went you herd this song and you and Chip literally like unlocked a different version of you two. You'd never seen Chip looking so feral and Chip had never seen you so passionate over a song… Which might have had something to do with the bag Harry was passing around 😳

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Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

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sirensplayhouse · 1 year

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hii it’s ‘🪦’ anon. i wanted to come back for a quick second and share some stuff. recently, i’ve manifested so much stuff since i first sent an ask and even before that with only being in this year for two months.

month of janurary in order:

- my parents divorce being over after years (everything working out how we planned). this was also the reason i had got into LOA all those years ago, so i did cry for like a day straight, it was really my wakeup call.

- 2 week vacation to my favorite tropical area for the month of feburary (i just got back from traveling and i enjoyed myself sm)

- i tapped into the void state about two times that month as well. i affirmed for always being aware of when i’m in it.

- a healthier relationship with my family. the past few years i did struggle with feeling close with them but we’ve grown so much in a short amount of time now.

- 300 dollars worth of clothes + a skims dress (the package was gonna be way more and i had already spent a lot of money for the vacation in advance)

- three new pairs of desired shoes

- this was random but, my mom always gives me money monthly to spend freely or to save but i had already gotten that months worth. so i was like my mom is gonna give me more money, not even 30 minutes later she’s asking how much i wanted?? 😭😭

month of feburary in order:

- over the years my family has definitely gotten more lenient especially since i’m damn near grown LMAO but it feels nice to do stuff without feeling like there’s going to be consequences, so i manifested for my family to be more lenient with my desired things.

- to get rid of my cold/flu a few days before vacation. i had gotten “sick” (like a common cough and runny nose) from a family member. i haven’t been sick in years so i was genuinely pissed about it. i affirmed one night when i was sleepy to wakeup without the sickness, and when i woke-up it was gone.

- my sister got paid earlier than she expected. and the amount was a few more thousands than she normally would get. it was funny when she came to tell me because she always has to make a joke out of everything. 😭

- my mothers approval for more piercings and maybe even a tattoo? (probably not, i’d def pussy out LMDAOO)

- so this was the biggest one besides the divorce but we got offers for two homes. the same homes that we looked at years ago and it honestly freaked me out. i genuinely did want to move again so i could be closer to my friends house to hangout more (we both met through LOA about three years ago and just so happened to live almost an hour away). i glanced at both house listings online after talking to her and i believed that i was gonna move. NEXT DAY, MY MOM AND SISTER GOT TWO CALLS BACK TO BACK. so now we’re moving into both homes because of something that happened 😭 it’s not bad but it was funny. i’ll be there in less than a week so i’m excited!

- another thing that happened was earlier this month. i tapped into the void for fun through this guided hypnosis video post made by gorgeouslypink and i was curious. i didn’t have any intent on manifesting anything there nor did i actually think i was gonna go through with it. i laid down right after and i tapped into it immediately while following the last speaking. personally, i don’t feel the need for the void because at the end of the day, ts is a deep meditative state inside of me. manifesting in the void is instant, and so is manifesting any other way. i also texted my friend right before and after. she thought i was gonna do it another day by u disappeared for like an hour or two and she was shocked. i was gonna send proof of everything but idk how to do this shit through anon but changing the font tbh this is sad.

all of the stuff that i mentioned within these two past months were all manifested without using the void. i hope that this can bring more positivity and enthusiasm for a lot of people who’ll see this post. ofc you can use the void but realize your power, it all starts with you and ends with you. don’t forget that you promised yourself these things so give them to yourself. sending love 💓 i’ll check back in monthly probably bc this is fun sharing my experiences and using the pink font color 💟 see you next time!

babes……. HELLO YOU DID THAT🥺i’m so proud and happy for you ! 🫶🏾 you’re only gonna get better and better and i can’t wait🥰i hope you enjoy all you’ve manifested 🕺🏾and have an absolute ball

#sirens inbox🪄#sirens inbox 🪄#success story #success stories

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symptoms-syndrome · 2 years

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Venting? Just don't want this reblogged so. No TWs apply. Comment if you want but like. I'm not in charge of u LOL u don't even have to read this if u don't wanna. It's just interpersonal drama.

My roommate is mad at me, I think. The good one, the shitty ones are always mad at me LOL. I'm trying to keep in mind that that's literally her problem and not mine to solve, but that's hard.

Basically, I had told her about my interview yesterday (which went really well!) And I was really excited about how it went. I shared how the executive director shared his salary with me, and how it's only $10k more than the base salary of the lowest paid employee. She says something along the lines of "oh, well then that's not much room to move up." That kinda annoys me, because it's nonprofit work so I'm not trying to climb any corporate ladders, and because the base pay is already way more than I (or she) make now, but whatever. I say that that's good. She goes on about how I should've asked if they adjust for inflation. I said that I trust this org to care about fair pay, because I do, the ED sharing his salary unprompted and making not much more than the base salary shows me that they care deeply, the rest of the interview showed me they care deeply about their workers, and I have a history of working adjacent to them for a long time due to my general. Having worked in a lot of local, queer focused nonprofits. She goes on to talk about her mom and how she got fucked over bc she was told in 1980 something salary capped out at $45k and how that was really good for then but now it's still capped at $45k etc. I'm like ok. She says smth along the lines of "I'm just very cynical and distrusting of institutions." And I said "I know," and I think that's what pissed her off because she's been giving the silent pouty treatment all last night and all of this morning. Which would've upset me a lot more a few months ago or years ago, but I've really tried bending over backwards to care when she does that and nah it never works so she's gonna have to work that out on her own.

I feel like she's gonna tell me later about how I hurt her feelings by saying that, but TBH I do not care. Not that I don't care that she feels hurt, but I do not care about her cynicism!!! It's unwelcome!!! 1. I know what I'm doing, I'm not stupid and it feels insulting she doesn't trust me to make decisions about my own career 2. She didn't even say anything like 'congrats on the interview' or 'im happy it went well' or anything!!! Straight to "what about the pay tho" when the pay is literally fine! It's very good actually! It's way more than both of us make bc we're both working retail RN. And 3. As I said like. We're both working retail. She's in her 30s and like. There's nothing wrong with working retail in ur 30s (TBH I might, if I don't get this job, and that would be fine w me bc I like the job I have) but it feels so out of place for her to be all up in arms about my salary if she's not making salary at all. Like I would still be annoyed if she was making like, $100k and was lecturing me about asking about this sort of thing but it's like. Why do you even care. More money than I make now is good, I would actually be fine with making even slightly more money than I make now. And not to brag but this isn't slightly more.

Plus the fact that like. It's nonprofit work. I'm genuinely not in it for the money. Ofc I have a base level of "I need to make enough to get my needs covered" but I'm not out here trying to be the next Elon Musk or conquer the financial district. This would be a job that would mean a lot to me and I'd be passionate about, and it's awesome that I'd be getting paid enough to maybe even rent a one bedroom apartment, eventually buy a house maybe, get my needs met and not need to worry about scrounging.

I just don't know what I'm gonna do if she cries to me about how me saying I know she's cynical and pessimistic made her feel bad. It's literally not my problem like at all IMO. She knows I'm not pessimistic like her and she knows her endless pessimism annoys me because I tell her like all the time. She complains and I'm like ok or I'm like "I don't rly think so" or whatever. And like I get she's Struggling With Mental Health™ but like??? Me too!!! It comes back to smth I said wayyy back here when I was like. This attitude I have is not just chance like I didn't just stumble upon feeling good about myself and my future it took a LOT of hard work and a LOT of challenging my own negative, pessimistic thoughts and I don't appreciate crabs in the bucket trying to drag me down to their level, even unintentionally.

I just also know she's like...mega sensitive and that's sooo not how I am. And I know some things I do can flip her emotional switches (like, for example, not caring a ton/being invested in the stuff she's into like movies or shows, she's a big cinephile and I am...not, I don't get a lot of the more artsy movies she shows me but I'm polite about it,) but like. I have made a lot of progress in deciding when that's actually my problem or my responsibility or my fault and in a lot of cases it really is not. And I can hope that by not chasing after her every emotional need she can learn to handle shit herself. Which, if I'm being mean I would say she should've figured out by now. She has made some level of progress with that though. It's just that she seems like. Very emotionally connected (?) to me, I'm apparently very important to her and her primary Person in her life she cares about (she's said as much, in different ways. She says she's never felt as connected w someone as she feels w me, which if I'm being honest might be primarily on account of us both being autistic) which can be honestly kinda triggering for me, but in a way where I get more...annoyed than upset? I just very much do not like codependency I very much need my own independence. Which I have, I didn't always have it but I do now. So now she's just dependent on me and I feel I've set real firm boundaries in terms of like. How much energy I invest and time I spend w her despite both living and working in the same place. At this point all I can do is like. Send out psychic "please get other friends u can hang out with" energies her way LMAO. Which she is working on it seems. I've been real busy so she had a movie night w a mutual friend of ours without me, though she had expected me to be there. I'm just like........aaaaa!!!

Plus I know I'm going to have to have a conversation w her about when new roommates move in, bc she can have a really hard time w change. She threw a real big fit when these roommates moved in and wanted to put a coffee table in the living room. I'm hoping she's better this time around. I think she can really lack...self awareness, but hopefully she's worked on that more? It seems she has. It's just hard to know what standard I can hold people to. I really shouldn't hold them to the standard of me, because I've realized that bar is actually kind of high.

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pashminalamb · 3 years

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Alriiiight sooo I'm back to share a brainrot with u hehe (ofc it's nsfw is anyone surprised lol) being on top of gojo as he fucks into u from below and holds u steady, veiny hands gripping ur hips and ur ass, him whimpering and praising u, telling u how u take him so well and how ur good to him and ahfsghfddc i love him, he's a dork fr 🤭 --- ❄️ anon

♱ 𝔑𝔞𝔳𝔶 𝔟𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲

♱ Pairings : Gojo Satoru x fem! reader Warnings : 18+ MDNI. Minors stay the fuck out.

Blowjobs, fingering and riding Satoru (a bit of crack towards the bonus scene) This is skin tone friendly (no mention of any skin tone. And if there is, it is only Satoru)

I've made Satoru slightly dominant in this one... I have another idea for submissive Gojo that might come soon 😳

I know I will be back later to edit this

Do not copy, repost or edit my work.

Walking through the furniture store hand in hand, you were searching for a decent couch to keep in your shared apartment with Satoru. After house hunting for months, the two of you finally found an apartment that satisfied your tastes. Given the fact that it was pricey due to the number of rooms, you couldn't help but feel that this particular one felt more like home compared to the other houses shown by the real estate agent. After moving into the apartment, and unpacking everything both of you owned while Satoru was away at the academy, you realized there was something wrong with the couch that was supposed to be placed in the living room.

The leather was worn, and the edges of it were bursting at the stitches showing the contents inside the couch. The longer you stared at the piece of furniture, the more flaws you found in it.

"So... you're saying that we would have to go furniture hunting?" Satoru asked as he looked up from his phone while you turned your back towards him while making dinner on the kitchen counter.

"We have no choice Satoru. If we're going to stay together, I want everything to be perfect" you said. "Why not have a perfect start to us? Instead of celebrating with dinner in a restaurant and having some fine wine, I'm more in a mood of making a memorable night in our apartment. What say?" you said with a smile, turning to face him.

Holding your face he said, "Here I am trying to impress my mochi. But as always, she is homebound. Do you want to go furniture hunting this Saturday?"

"Saturday sounds good" you said as you kissed his cheek.

"Ehhh why didn't you invite me to cook?" he asked as he turned his gaze towards the ingredients on the table and the sizzling pan.

"You can't make stir fry to save your life Satoru. What happened last week...? Ah... you burnt the yakisoba didn't you" you said as you placed rice into a bowl.

"(Y/N) chan, Hidoi" he said in a whiny voice.

"Do you think this one looks good?" you asked as you stared at the brown colored couch that looked like your old one, but was fabric instead of leather. "Iie Mochi. We should go for a dark navy blue one. It would suit the white walls of the house" he said as he looked at the couch. Walking towards the corner of the aisle, he pointed towards a heavy looking couch that was the color he described. Walking towards the end of the aisle, you realized that the number of people on the side of the store was less compared to the usually crowded spaces.

"Ah... are you and your wife interested in buying this couch?" the salesman said as he trudged towards both of you. You raised your hand to pat your hair, feeling flustered. 'Wife?' sure, you had thought about settling with Satoru some day, but never would you have expected to run into someone who would say that out loud.

"Hai. We're looking forward to buying this particular one" Satoru said as pressed you into his side with his hand around your waist. As if he understood your awkwardness, Satoru changed the topic of conversation by deciding to ask the salesman details about the couch. You could hear their voices in a distance, but you paid no attention as you stared at the velvety navy blue couch. Imagining it in the living room with Satoru and you seated on it, legs tangled together while watching a movie. How would it feel to have a steamy session on the couch? You imagined yourself being bent over the couch while Satoru fucked you from behind. How would it be to ride him on the couch? With his hands placed on your hips, watching you as you bounced yourself on his dick. His naked skin would compliment the couch really well...

"Mochi"

you snapped out of your thoughts, blinking before looking at him.

"Daijobu?" he asked as he stared at you worriedly, lowering his dark glasses. "I'm fine. So... are we getting it?" you asked as looked towards the piece of furniture.

"It'll be arriving this evening. Do you want to take a look at the couple mugs? I saw them on the shelf when we came into the store..." he said and you nodded.

With a soft smile on his lips, he said "Isshou ni ikko"

The two of you decided to spend the night at your new apartment with the new couch, takeout and movies. Satoru decided the movie while you set up the couch and dinner. Eating in the silence of your new home with a movie playing in the background was comforting. Clearing away the plates, you settled back into the couch. Halfway through the movie, you felt a large palm rest on your thigh. Paying no attention to it, you continued to look at the screen. Not satisfied with your reaction, Satoru began to move his hand to the inner side of your thigh, rubbing it in soothing circles.

You gasped as you felt his hand move towards your clothed pussy and began to rub your slit with the tips of this fingers, while he placed his other hand under his chin that rested on his thigh.

"Satoru...."

"Doushitano Mochi? Are you not enjoying the movie?" he asked in a teasing voice as the tip of his thumb pressed into your clit.

You moaned at the feeling of his thumb making rough circles into your clit.

"You think I wouldn't notice you spacing out in the store? What kind of dirty thoughts was my mochi thinking? Did you have fun in that naughty little head of your's?" he said as he switched his pace from rubbing your clit roughly to a ghost like touch.

"After all... if I don't know what my mochi likes how can I satisfy her? Omoimasenka mochi?" he said into your ear with a raspy voice, not forgetting to give a slight nibble on your lobe before pulling away.

"Thought about riding you on this couch. How good you would look lying down on it with nothing on... stop teasing me Satoru" you whimpered, trying to grind into his palm.

"Soka... matte" he said in a teasing voice as he pulled away. Before you could grab his hand, he began lifting up his shirt, displaying his mouthwatering body. Standing up to take his pants off, he was left in nothing but his boxers which restrained his growing erection. You leaned forward, grabbing him but his hips.

Pulling his boxers down, you looked at him for a sign. As his gaze met your's, his eyes lowered in a bashful manner, while batting his eyelashes. Giving the leaking head of his dick a lick or two, you began to bob your head back and forth while your hand squeezed the base of it and moved along the skin that your mouth couldn't possibly take. You felt his hands entangle themselves in your hair as his hips began to sway back and forth, craving more of your tongue.

Before he could orgasm, he pulled your head back and once again stared down at you. His face was flushed and his pale skin was now decorated with a peach hue. Pulling down his boxers, he sat on the couch next you. "Ride me" he said as he grabbed your face and kissed you. His hand drifted from your face towards the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and revealing your breasts that was covered by your bra. Reaching your hands behind you, you unclasped it, throwing it down to the floor along with your shirt.

Pulling down the waistband of your bottoms and underwear, you threw them behind you, not caring where they fell as you were eager to ride Satoru. He laid down on his back against the couch while pulling your hands, pinning them beside his head. He whined as you left them for a moment to steady yourself above him. He placed his hands on either of your inner thighs and spread them apart, presenting your wet pussy. Using two of his fingers, he spread your cunt apart, watching it throb, begging him to fill it up.

Satoru groaned at the feeling of your pussy sucking his cock in as you eased yourself down. Rubbing his hips after bottoming out, he mewled at the feeling of being constricted by your velvety walls. He gasped as you ground your hips against his in circles. Eager to feel you, he rested his palms on your ass and squeezed. You groaned in pleasure at the feeling of his hands massaging your skin.

Feeling ready to move, you began bouncing your hips up and down while rubbing your clit with your fingers as Satoru's back arched off the navy blue fabric of the couch. Wanting to deny him, you began bring your hips to a stop, but Satoru was too quick.

Grabbing your hips, he spread them apart while rutting into you at the pace of his liking.

"Thought you could deny me Mochi? Don't you look so cute when you're on my dick? Do you hear that?" he said as he pounded into you, lifting his hips off the couch to meet your's while delivering powerful thrusts. Your living room was filled with the sloppy sounds of both your slick and his precum dripped down both your bodies as your hips slapped against each other.

"Sukebe ka na?" he said in a sing song voice which broke into a moan as you reached a hand behind you and fondled with his balls. Holding onto the side of the couch, you began to bounce yourself more vigorously while Satoru threw his head back and groaned at the feeling of your warm and wet walls around him. You felt your breath hitch as the curve of his dick slid against one spot that made your vision turn blurry.

"Koko ka?" he said as he grab your ass and began to thrust into you at a rough pace, making sure to hit that spot every time. Moving your hands away from the side of the couch, you steadied yourself with the help of his forearms. Closing your eyes, you could feel the veins under the expanse of his skin flex and stand out with every movement.

"You're taking my dick so well (Y/N) chan. Hold my hands" he said as he let go of your ass and entwined your fingers with his. You could feel yourself tip over with the familiar throbbing of your cunt and your vision turning hazy.

"'M cummin 'Toru" you whimpered.

"Daisuki da Mochi. Cum with me. Cum together with me" he said in desperation as he felt himself reach his limit. Squeezing your hands together with his, Satoru's movements became sloppy as he spilled himself into you. You moaned as you felt the band in your lower belly snap. Looking down, you saw cum dripping down from your plugged pussy and down his dick. Reaching down, you picked up your shirt and rubbed around the edges of where the both of you met to prevent the couch from being stained.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked in a shy voice.

"Mhmmmm... I was right" you answered as you laid your head against his chest.

"About what?" he asked in confusion as he pecked your forehead and played with your hair.

"Navy blue suits you"

Bonus : "Why did you freeze up when the salesman asked if you were my wife?"

"Wouldn't you freeze up if he asked if you were my husband?"

*Satoru smirks*

"You would wouldn't you?"

*whispers* Don't make me go round 2 to prove a point Mochi. I'm not afraid to be an exhibitionist at the store.

Hidoi : So mean

Iie : No

Daijobu : You okay?

Isshou ni ikko : Let's go together

Doushitano : What's wrong/ What happened

Omoimasenka : Don't you think

Soka : I see

matte : Wait

Sukebe ka na? : Lewd isn't it

Koko ka : Here

Daisuki da : I love you (simptoru)

✟ Saint's note :

So the original idea was to make it happen in the furniture store... but I did not need a "You" scene happening and that's were the salesman came in. And I just left it to the imagination of the reader... it's a long fic ask... but I really enjoyed writing it

A lot of writing this week darlings ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

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poptod · 3 years

Note

Hiya, can u do a ahkmenrah x reader request where the reader is ill and ahk is ofc panicking but trying his hardest to help you, thank u <33 n can it be at the museum

notes: thanks for requesting! ive done similar stuff so i decided to change it up a little, still follows the prompt tho. hope you like it!

warnings: cancer. WC: 1.3k

You hadn't spoken since the news. Voices of doctors and relatives faded out as your vision zeroed onto nothing, willing yourself into an abyss of silence. There were options, of course––they said something about chemical treatments, healing mushrooms to help you along, CBD oil and lotion to soothe the soon-to-come, overbearing pain. And, of course, the reminder that new treatments were coming out every day.

Archivers in museums didn't get paid much; that meant that, unfortunately, you couldn't really afford much more than basic, more dangerous treatments. A pit inside you whispered it was pointless, that death was closer than you thought. Still, you returned to your place of work in the evening, your feet dragging along the floor as you stared blankly forward, automatically unlocking and locking the door without thinking.

Moving like sludge through muscle memory.

You stood in the middle of the room, crowded by people––exhibits, at least––who didn't know your ailment, or the words of the doctor that still rung in your ears…

"Stage 4," he'd said, but you didn't hear the words surrounding that piece of information. Actually, the ongoings of yesterday were lost to you, absorbed by only a few words and blank stares.

"(Y/N)?"

The darkness on the edge of your eyes began to fade.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

Ahk was standing in front of you, his hand on our shoulder as he attempted to meet your wandering eye.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm okay," you mumbled, unable to look at his face.

Despite your words, it was clear to anyone who saw you that you were not in fact alright, and Ahk frowned, wishing you would speak the truth.

"Let's go somewhere quieter," he suggested, and led you up the stairs to the marine exhibits.

Dark blue light rippled around you, the sound of bubbles and swishing water the only accompaniment to your quiet walk. Ahkmenrah stood as always at your side, matching your crawling pace, and pausing with you to stare at the massive tanks.

Still, you didn't speak, and Ahk was forced to coerce you into giving up whatever was bothering you.

"What happened?" He asked, standing in front of you to keep you from walking. You had your arms crossed, and your shoulders pulled up tightly.

"I went to the doctors," you said with clear discomfort.

Ahk nodded––you told him what a doctor was a few months ago by now.

"It's cancer," you said as you sucked in a sharp breath, nodding shakily. "I don't expect you to know what it is, but.. it isn't good."

"You'll be alright though, won't you?" He asked, his brow knotted tight. "You people have so many different medicines than we ever had access to."

"We don't have all the answers," you said softly.

"Then... what will you do?"

He stepped closer to you, sharing his warmth with your dull, ashen skin. But his question––despite its relevance––left you spinning, staring out past his shoulder as your expression fell into further disrepair.

"... nothing," you finally breathed out.

Answers and possible outcomes were swirling around your waking and sleeping consciousness for hours on end, without pause or rest. The price of treatment, the methods, and how you would continue to live after chemotherapy, if you even lived at all. You could kill yourself slowly in two different ways––by cancer and by chemotherapy, or you could die a more natural death with sickness like black ink stretching over your organs just as a spider weaves massive webs.

"Nothing??" He hissed. "You can't do nothing, have you lost your mind?!"

"I can't really afford the treatment, Ahk," you whispered, as tears who had been building for hours finally fell over flushed cheeks. "And if I do get it, I'm never going to be the same after. And that's if I live. Even if I get it, the doctor said it's not likely it'll help in time."

His hands pulled your face in, the bottom of his palms on your jaw and his fingers stretching out behind your neck to pull you in.

"I can't let you die," he said, his voice breaking.

You stared at him with weary eyes, dragged down by the dark circles beneath them. There was little else you could think to say to him, so you leant forward on shaky toes, and pecked his forehead in a kiss that was barely ever there.

"I'll think about it," you mumbled, and left.

For weeks you kept coming to work faithfully, only calling in sick when the chemotherapy side-effects left you bruised and exhausted. Your hair was already falling out, but Ahk insisted he didn't mind, and you believed him––in ancient Egypt, it was customary to shave your head for religions undertakings.

Each evening when you entered the museum, Ahk would come greet you and take you to the pillows and blankets he piled up in the marine exhibits, allowing you the comfort of soft light and whale calls while he prepared a tea for you. He wouldn't tell you what it was, but you could tell it was some sort of ground root you assumed was a healing tactic from ancient Egypt. While you were sipping at the warm concoction, he massaged the aching muscles, and applied an ointment Larry had gotten for his arthritis.

Sometimes he would tell you stories––only if you asked, of course, but you enjoyed the gentle rumble of the Pharaoh's voice, and the magic happenings within his tales. Rueful Gods and Goddesses littered the stories, within vivid imagery he piece together in your failing mind.

"Ahk," you murmured on one of those harder days that, for some reason (Ahk), you returned to the museum.

He stopped mid-story, turning expectantly to you. You raised your arms to him.

"Come here," you said, and he obeyed, gingerly sliding himself down next to you in the makeshift bed.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked, his nose brushing yours.

"No," you chuckled with a weak smile.

You fell asleep within a minute, passing out in Ahkmenrah's embrace holding you tight to his chest. When your breathing settled into a slower in and out, tears welled in his eyes, falling upon your shared pillow as his shoulders began to shake. His thumb gently rubbed your cheek, relishing in little touches and gestures.

Memorizing. Just in case.

He took care of you, as much as he could within his own death, and continued to warm your tea, make sure you were eating, and comfort you with various medicines and stories. Curled up in the blanket nest, you did your best to smile whenever you met his eye.

And then one day, you didn't come to the museum. Ahk caught McPhee saying something to Larry; something about you, and something along the lines of 'they didn't call in sick'. Larry took a visibly deep breath, speaking in hushed tones Ahk couldn't hear from his distance.

You didn't come the next day, either, nor for the entirety of the week. In attempts to find answers Ahk grilled Larry for what had happened, but he didn't know, as you were an intensely private person who only gave their number to their employer.

But you never came again, and Ahk could feel himself slipping, the image of you in his head already blurry and unclear. He tried to remember your warmth, the softness of your skin, and your breath on his bare chest, and at times he could feel your weight still on him. It only made him yearn all the more, reaching and almost feeling something that no longer existed. Lain on his chest and too far to reach.

He learned that silence is an answer in the most hellish way possible.

#ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah #night at the museum #cancer tw

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correctdangerousfellows · 3 years

Text

first date with ethan and harry

anon asked: first date headcanons for the dfel bois

a/n: this request made me so happy u don’t understand, i’m sorry this was super late and i didn’t want to take too much time so here is ethan’s and harry;s first! i’ll publish zion’s, eugene’s, and lawrence’s super soon <3

ethan

- my precious,,, but very awkward giant,,,,,

- you probably had to initiate the first date. you guys were just chilling outside of a classroom talking about random stuff until the topic of baseball was brought up, and u said something around the lines of “oh my god we should go to one of those baseball games together :D”

- insert dying ethan here he says yes with the most eager and straightforward face

- THE MOST NERVOUS MF he doesn’t show it but when i mean he is dying inside i mean HE IS DYING INSIDE

- he wakes up early for once in his life and waits patiently outside of your home with absolutely everything prepared. he brought a mini backpack filled with snacks, water bottles, and a sports jacket in case it was windy

- asked if he could hold ur hand bc baseball stadiums r so big and he’s not risking losing u in a big crowd

- there was a cameraman going around and he asked u guys if u wanted a photo together and he was like “YES,,,,,,, if u don’t mind of course.” it’s a cute polaroid of u two together with matching baseball caps

- yall the photo is NOT GOING ANYWHERE. he takes it with him everywhere he goes

- if u were familiar with baseball, he would talk about what the teams were doing with u and guessing who was going to win,, it’s basically commentary and it’s so cute bc he gets lost in it and when he realizes he gets shy and goes “oh wait sorry i think i talked too much” MF IF U DON’T TALK MORE

- if u weren’t familiar with baseball, he would explain absolutely everything to u and would keep an arm slung around ur shoulder so u have easy access to ask him anything :”) he is open to every single question and is completely patient with u. in fact he just falls deeper in love with u if u sound into the sport

- what is a sports date... if no kiss cam.....?

- you guys were way too into the game so u guys didn’t notice the kiss cam was on u two until the crowd got ridiculously loud

- ethan really wanted to kiss u but also he didn’t want u to feel pressured at all but if u gave him permission he would give u the most gentle and soft kiss of all time

- doesn’t process he kissed u until an hour later

- dies when he does

- 10/10 would do again even if he died of cardiac arrest

harry

- harry was the one who initiated the first date! he’s actually been wanting to ask you to a date for the longest time but he had no idea how to approach u,, and also he’s pretty scared of making u uncomfortable so he was in this very poor position of oh my god what should i do

- he asked his mother for advice n everything and finally went for it

- pretty casual about it freaking inside he first asks you if you’re available next weekend, then proceeds to be like ,,,”so i heard about this movie right and it’s insert favorite movie genre here” because he’s very tentative to your interests so

- when you said yes he was like “oh, okay cool! see you then : ^ )”

- he thinks he looks composed on the outside but in reality,,, you see harry with the reddest fucking face ever and he’s grabbing the back of his neck and looking away shyly with a small smile

- went shopping for the first time with his mom and got decent looking clothes

- bought the snacks beforehand ofc my mans is already prepared

- the most gentlemanliest gentleman ever u already know he’s there like an hour early, he insisted on taking you safely to the theatres, paid for all the tickets, “your daughter will be back by 9 pm sir”

- no matter what type of movie you guys are watching he is always leaning towards you so your shoulders touch,,, and he’s so warm and he’ll glance at u a few times throughout the movie to see ur reaction

- if you guys are watching a horror movie, he’ll hold your hand very gingerly and squeeze it whenever a jumpscare pops up

- for romcoms, he’ll probably be distracted from the movie just to stare at u HE IS OVER THE MOONNNN FOR U

- action? he’ll be as engrossed as u are and u guys are just sharing snacks subconsciously and sometimes your hands would brush together and he’ll smile at u gently

- HE IS SO CUTE OMG once the movie finished, he walks you back home with your arm around his arm and he’ll quietly listen to you ramble about the movie with the most loving eyes

- got so engrossed in the conversation that he didn’t even notice u were in front of ur home

- he gave u a big fat hug and he was SO WARM he lowkey did not want to let go bc everything in that moment was so comfortable and he buried his head in ur shoulders as he thanked u for the fun date

- everything kept replaying in his head later that night when he was going to bed and he realizes just how bad he’s got it for u :’)

THIS WAS SO FUN TO DO AHH i feel like i did harry a bit wrong here so,,,,, i’ll probably edit it once i finish all my requests. thank you once again for requesting and i am super sorry that this was late, but i’ve finally recovered fully from covid so i should be back to regular posting again!!! i’ll have the rest of the fellows done soon <3

> lychee

#dangerous fellows #dangerous fellows headcanons #first date #first date headcanons #dangerous fellows ethan #dangerous fellows harry #ethan #harry #dfel ethan #dfel harry #dangerous fellows x reader #dfel ethan x reader #dfel harry x reader #dangerous fellows ethan x reader #dangerous fellows harry x reader #dfel

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honeysidesarchived · 3 years

Note

“it was open and i read it.” + two and a half vampires xx

well, stella, we did it. the girls are on main fr (i mean there's like a moodboard but still). trying to get back in the swing of writing things after digging myself into and out of the trenches with a lil blurb on the girls (also world building???? in a skyrim oneshot??? more likely than you'd think). every time i have to put the skyrim kids on main i get a gray hair.

ily thank u for this prompt, i hope it does them justice. <3 ofc, lavinia belongs to stella!

i. omen ✤ astraia volos/lavinia/serana

"it was open and i read it" + two and a half vampires, or: lavinia sticking her nose in her wife's business

words: 1.1k

warnings: none, aside from the fact that daddy volos sucks (i.e. threats of murder and whatnot) not to be forgotten are astraia's inability to access her emotions at any time, ever, and serana and lavinia teaming up. par for the course with them i think. no proofreading we die like men

“who’s aseri?”

the name sends an unpleasant jolt down astraia’s spine. an instinctual sour flavor floods her mouth; a pavlovian response, something close to what she thinks hysteria would taste washing over her senses.

abruptly, the dark elf straightens from the table she'd been bent over to rifle through her bag. lavinia is standing just there, at the writing desk, holding the offending letter in her hand like nothing is wrong.

"why are you going through my things?" she demands, reaching for the letter. lavinia's hand darts out of reach, ducking the letter behind her back.

"it's not going through your things if you've laid it out just bloody like that," lavinia defends. "it was open and i read it."

"it wasn't for you," astraia snips, reaching around lavinia again, only for the letter to once more evade her grasp. she's got, perhaps, a solid foot and a hundred pounds on lavinia; there's no reason she shouldn't be able to just wrench it out of her grasp, but more often than not, astraia herself feels like a bull around lavinia, trying desperately not to crash blindly into her and crush her. the result is that she can't just brute force her way into getting the letter back (unfortunately).

lavinia skirts the edge of the bed--a skimpy, straw-ridden thing draped in limp furs, what astraia absently thinks is a poor comparison to the price they've paid for this room--around to the other side, keeping it firmly between them.

"so, who are they?" she prompts again, waving the letter. "a sibling? an old lover, perhaps? they like to call you my astraia--"

"lavinia," astraia growls, planting one foot on the edge of the bed. "reconsider yourself."

"i've done it a great many times already, i think i'm quite darling the way i am." lavinia eyes her for a moment, coy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "i just want to know you, straia, you're like a little lock box. a big, muscular--well, what are you climbing on the bed for?"

lavinia shrieks, perhaps in delight or perhaps in panic when astraia closes the distance between them by stepping up onto the bed, hooking one arm around the brunette's waist to keep her in place and lift her. she's still managing to keep the letter just out of reach. not for long, astraia thinks, the lenght of her arm quickly overtaking lavinia's.

"stop squirming," she hisses, "and give me the fucking letter."

"only if you tell me--"

"what's going on?"

it's serana's voice that stills them. she's standing in the doorway, luminous, tawny eyes regarding them with a look of what she thinks might be confusion or amusement (or both).

"i just paid the innkeep," she says by way of explanation, "and you two are...horsing around?"

lavinia blinks at their wife, opening her mouth to say something, and astraia takes the opportunity to snatch the letter out of her hand and then drop her unceremoniously on the bed. she hops down onto the floor with a solid thump.

"took my letter," astraia says briskly. "being a brat about it."

"astraia has a secret pen pal and won't tell me who it is," liv interjects. "i told her i just want to know more about her, is all."

serana looks at astraia. "you have a pen pal?" she sounds dubious.

"they're not a pen pal." astraia crumples the letter in her fist and drops it onto the floor.

lavinia hms from the bed, smoothing hair from her face. "not with that attitude, they won't be." she reaches over the edge of the bed, fingertips brushing the letter.

"they're my father."

silence sits for a second between the three of them. astraia resumes her bag-digging, and she knows without looking that serana and liv are exchanging looks. the look, specifically: the one they share when they have concern for her, but they don't know how to say it. she would prefer they say nothing at all.

"straia," lavinia begins, her voice saccharine--the way she sounds before she's about to ask for something she knows astraia will say no to.

"no," astraia says flatly.

"you don't have to talk about it," serana tacks on. "we just think that maybe--"

"--if you wanted to," liv adds, "--you could, and we would just listen--"

"you are incapable of shutting up," astraia replies, deadpan, as she points at lavinia, and then serana. "and you listen far too well. i want someone who will listen and then forget about it entirely."

they exchange the look again. astraia feels her lip curl.

"stop that," she grinds out. "stop--doing that thing where you telepathically communicate to each other."

"we love you," serana points out gently. "and we want you to be happy."

laboriously, astraia replies, "i am happy."

"very convincing," lavinia intones.

she shoots the brunette a look before she turns back to the bag. everything is in its place, of course, just as it should be, but the ritual of double and triple-checking is one of the few things that brings her comfort nowadays. lavinia has given up her efforts to fetch the letter from the floor without moving from the bed, and serana closes the door behind her, setting her own bag on the nearby dresser.

"this bed is way too small," is what serana says after a moment, and the words give astraia a breath of relief; for now, she will think nothing else of the letter.

i will find you, my astraia.

she will think nothing else of the letter.

lavinia says, "it's not too small--astraia always sleeps on her side, all hunched up, you know? it'll be fine."

i will find you, and those monstrous pets you call your companions.

she will think nothing else of the letter.

"you say that," serana teases, her voice glimmering with amusement, "until you're whining that she's not cuddling you, keeping you warm."

and i will kill the whole lot of you.

"throw that letter away," astraia says over her shoulder. "in the fireplace, lavinia. and be quick about it. i want to get to the market before it gets dark."

lavinia crinkles her nose, having just snapped it up from the floor in her elegant fingers. "it's always dark in windhelm."

"i mean it."

"fine," she sighs dramatically, forlorn as she tosses it into the fire. "are you going to buy me something nice?"

"no."

serana clicks her tongue.

"maybe," astraia amends. "if you're good."

"i can be very well-behaved," lavinia replies delightedly. "especially when it means not spending money on myself."

the woman chatters happily, serana trailing her out of the room as astraia slings her bag over her shoulder and watches the edges of the letter flaking into charcoal. she's not surprised that her father's decided to hunt her down, she supposes; only that it's taken this long.

"my love?" serana's voice drifts from the doorway; she's backtracked, watching her inquisitively. "you are alright, aren't you?"

astraia turns away from the fireplace and to the black-haired woman, shrugging.

"never better."

#my writing #skyrim oc #x: two and a half vampires #c: astraia volos #oc: lavinia #c: serana #sorry i just wrote this in an absolute haze #they are so cute im--#sdfjhdbfj #I KNOW THIS AIN'T THE CONTENT YALL FOLLOWED ME FOR BUT IT GIVES ME DOPAMINE

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lnarizakis · 4 years

Note

hi, first time asking (i hate being shy) but fluff 18 with osamu (or anyone else really, i just saw it and thought it was kinda made for osamu) please 👉👈🥺

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

foreword: ofc ofc!!!!!! is okay being shy, theres always a first time for everything hehe. thank u for requesting! (&thank u for requesting osamu i love him sm; sorrie this took such a long time to post, school rlly sux and im constantly tired bc of school😓but thank u for being patient!

look out for: slight manga spoilers, aged up! characters, slight drinking, fluff

—

Today was, for lack of a better word, a crappy day. You woke up on the wrong side of bed, were so late to your job that you were reprimanded by your boss, and, to make matters worse, left your umbrella at home when you knew it was going to rain later today. Onigiri sounded really good for you right now, but stopping by your favorite Onigiri Miya’s tiny shop sounded impossible for someone without a car, as it was several miles from where you resided.

And so now you were stuck at home, sitting on the floor of the kitchen in your apartment, still not completely dried off from the heavy rain pouring outside. It also probably didn’t help that the sound of your stomach grumbling filled the empty silence every couple of minutes, along with the mindless noise that came from whatever you were doing on your phone. Some fifteen minutes ago you had texted the better twin Osamu Miya (you’d call him your boyfriend, but that’d be pushing it a little much; he and you were sort of teetering between the “talking phase” and the “dating phase”) about your troubles, but didn’t press the topic. At the time you had texted him, Osamu was responding back during his work hours, as he’d probably slipped out the door at the back of the kitchen despite it being the slow hour of the day.

Having nothing else to stare at the dim screen of your phone, you reviewed your conversation with him again:

y/n

>> :(((

>> i’m in the mood for onigiri!!!

>> but i only want ur onigiri

>> & ur v far from where i am

osamu miya

>> do u want me to do anything about it?

y/n

>> yes duh,

>> steal sum onigiri from yo kitchen!

osamu miya

>> no????

>> theyre for my customers???

y/n

>> am i not a customer??gimme

osamu miya

>> cant i just getchu sum pizza

>> Attachment: 1 Image

You opened up the image Osamu sent you and it was an extremely distorted image of his brother Atsumu holding a box of pizza. You stifled a laugh, then let it all out. You laughed, despite several tears escaping your eyes. Sure, you’ve had your share of bad days in the past, and this one could definitely compare to many, but the build-up of stress that led up to this day can really bring you down sometimes. You groaned, bringing your knees to your chest. There was no doubt that stress was one day going to be the end of you.

You stayed in that position for what felt like an hour, and it seemed to you that you had fallen asleep around twenty minutes into that hour, for you had woken up due to a startling knock that came from the door of your apartment. You paid some attention to it at first, thinking that it was most likely due to post-nap hallucination; however, a second knock, then a third knock came in. Getting up in fear, you speed-walked your way towards the door and looked through the peephole that would provide the fish-eye image of the figure who interrupted your nap. It was a sopping-wet Osamu, still clad in his attire from work, looking down at the puddle he was creating at the doorstep. You opened the door, and he looked into your eyes with a smirk that rested lazily on his face, holding up a plastic bag with his left hand. There was another in his right hand.

“Pizza?”

Selfishly, you whined out loud, “I wanted onigiri.”

“I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in,” Osamu explained.

As you began to raise a hand to protest his explanation, Osamu held up the other bag, saying, “I also have onigiri. So now ya gotta let me in.”

Flustered from defeat, you stepped out of the way and opened the door wider for Osamu to walk in. He took off his soaked shoes, so he was standing in uncomfortably wet socks. You allowed him to take off his socks as well if it made him slightly more comfortable. You took the two plastic bags from him, and set them and yourself on the kitchen floor, where you previously were. Beckoning the man to come sit with you on the floor, the two of you sat in silence as you began eating.

“You know,” with food stuffed in his mouth, Osamu began, “they say that silence while eating means that the food’s really good.”

Finishing your first onigiri, you scoffed. “Nah, that’s probably wrong. That jus’ means everyone’s eating and they’re bein’ polite. Who ever said that?”

“I did,” Osamu stated. You smacked him on the arm as you rolled your eyes, and he chuckled at your aggression. “Anyways,” he continued, “tell me how your day went. I can tell you were pretty sad.”

You hummed, before taking a sip of your beer. Setting the can down, you explained how for the past several days you had been building up a lot of stress and that this day was your “breaking point.” Osamu listened on without interruption, though he nodded occasionally to show he’s listening. Once you’ve finished explaining, or, at this point, ranting, Osamu placed a hand over yours that’s resting on your thigh. You glanced at him, and he’s got his usual blank expression on his face.

“At least I got you your onigiri.”

Maybe it was the beer, or the fact that you’ve come to terms with the feelings you’ve begun to harbor for him, but the warmth in your cheeks started to show itself. Lacing your fingers between his, your other hand found its way to your can of beer, which you raised. Osamu raised his own, and the two of you clinked your cans together. Laughter rang in the air, as it would for several hours more that evening.

#haikyuuwritersnet #thank u for requesting!#i love osamu so much #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #anon #cadekagi

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tangerinegod · 4 years

Note

Hello! I am sorry to bother you but I am a senior getting ready for college this year. I am in the US and I wanted to major in the same thing you did, do you have any possible tips for me? I still haven't even looked for colleges that would be best for animation majors so I figured if you were up to giving out any tips/saying any basic ideas if you wanted to/if you had the time to then maybe I'll have a better idea! I apologise for if I sound weird! I'm tried to word it correctly but I can't 😿

hi!! i’m totally down to share my experiences! someone else also had some questions so i’m going to put them all together in this post haha, hopefully this helps! it’ll get pretty long so apologies ahead of time but art school is a lot to think about so i wanna be as helpful as i can around it, its a lot of time and money. I’m gonna put it all under a read more cus it is really really long!

i wanna start off with the fact that I had the privilege of attending school in a financially stable environment, my parents were/are really supportive so w merit scholarship i only came out with around 20-30k in debt and i also had housing support my entire time in school. they were ok with me focusing on academics so i didn’t hold a retail job unless i was out of school like summer/winter break. Ofc though i regularly take commissions/do merch/cons to try and pay for all bills that arent rent cus i did want to be financially independent where it was possible. I also did try and work during the semester but everytime i did my body would deff start to breakdown from the fact that i didnt wanna compromise schoolwork with jobs.. so just read ahead know this experience is from a student who was able to attend focusing only on school work for most of the time!

the biggest thing is knowing art school is not required to become a professional in either freelancing or industry! there are a huuuge amount of online tools and classes these days that provide the exact same education and for cheaper too. i think it depends on what experience you prefer/can handle/want but it’s definitely possible to make art/animation art your living without higher education. the thing that college will for sure give you though is the ability to meet deadlines, work even when you dont want to, and connections with peers+teachers. i think the connections part is invaluable because you’re basically coming out with a network of people you already know and who know you!

also its good to know if you want to attend/can handle art school! it’s a lot of time and energy and students get burned out really fast. the best piece of advice i got before going was ‘if you draw every single day, even if its for only like 5-10 minutes or a doodle for a whole year you should be fine’ consistency is super key because you’re attending school to draw, and you’ll have to create work for stuff you aren’t excited for at some point or another. burnout is extremely real and the only reason i didn’t experience it was probably because i got super into drawing naruto fanart again inbetween sophomore and junior year! it helped give me something to draw seperated from school which is the only thing i was drawing for since i had entered rip. a heads up id also consider myself a workaholic so i fit in ok with the ‘art school’ environment but it is suuper unhealthy. if you are fantastic at managing your schedule then it’s definitely possible to take care of yourself! freshman year i got 8 hours a sleep a night and only pulled all nighters for some second semester finals at the end. sophomore year + up though i ended up prioritizing hw over sleep and like for sure, definitely shortened my life span. there’s another q down below where i’ll go more into detail but ya, be careful w ur work balance!

another tip especially for animation is knowing for a fact what type of animation you’re looking to go into, and what the school is offering. I didn’t think i’d get into art school at the time so i only applied to two places + decided if i didnt get into either id attend community to get credits out of the way while building portfolio. honestly? i did not do a lot of research LOL but like i did end up having the chance to tour and stuff! just know that each school will have a very different curriculum. The main differences are schools that prioritize 3D (cg animation, cg modeling, ect) and 2D/traditional (hand drawn, ‘oldschool’, digital or traditional based) this is a huge difference so make sure you do research for it! in most cases a 2D/traditional program will also offer 3D since it’s at the forefront of the industry animation wise rn. My school taught 2D but like hand drawn on physical paper 2D, frame by frame. while it was a good experience it’s super outdated because digital tools make it way faster + easier! i’d recommend looking for a program that is digital 2D over traditional 2D.

if after your senior year covid is still affecting campuses in the US to keep them shut down i’d recommend attending a community college to get credits and then transferring into school. one of the negatives is paying money for gened classes when ur not there for them; if you can get them out of the way sooner and cheaper there is absolutely no negative + you could graduate earlier or use the extra time for better work or to work a job!

these are all the general tips i think i’d give on like a broad basis of attending or not to think about? let me know if u have more q’s! someone asked q’s im answering below that go more into personal experiences + work culture so heres those:

- how many hours a week do u spend studying, in class, otherwise making art? like how much of ur life does it consume?

I was basically working on art.... 24/7! since i wasnt working a job at the same time i crammed as many credits as possible into my schedule so on avg i did 18 credit semesters (around 6 classes) art classes go for 6 hours and non art go for 3, so i’d spent around 30-35 hours in class a week! hw wise it varied on the class but combined it would be around 35-50 hours a week... im guessing? on average studio classes would have 8-10 hours of hw, maybe 5 for a light week, and gened classes 5 hours w them all combined. or this was probably how things were before junior year? junior+senior year i had thesis + everything else ontop.. i’d spend around 30-40 hours on thesis a week with other classes ontop of that bc my film was super long cus im a dummy!

- is it hard going to art school n realising that altho u were probably quite talented… so is everyone else? Like. all of a sudden. ur not special and everyone seems as good as u, you know? More generally, how do u deal with comparison?

kinda?? i think instead of the idea of like you vs others it feels more of like a competition at first to be the best. this varies hugely on school culture though; my animation year was really friendly with each other and get along extremely well, so my answer to this is v different than some others who attended different schools. i think that the idea of ‘comparison’ only lasts a portion of the first year because at some point you realize that it’s not a who’s better as much as its a ‘these are my coworkers’ type thing? like healthy competition 100% because we’re all working to improve but i think most of us learned pretty early on that viewing each other as peers going into the same workforce helped a lot. also at some point everyone develops their own style/starts to develop their artistic preferences so there isn’t a way to compare whos 'better’ anymore? i dont think there ever is tbh because style is appealing based off of an individuals preferences. If anything realizing everyone else is also amazing makes you wanna work harder ig? or thats how i felt! it’s inspiring to be surrounded by so many people who create such amazing work.

- is there a lot of workaholic culture? all nighter culture?

100000% there can be a workaholic and all nighter culture. i know people who avoided it and thats honestly fantastic because i fall super easily into that pit. sometimes i’ll pull all nighters on a personal project just because i really want to finish it... i am definitely considered a workaholic all the way through and its not healthy rip... i’d estimate at the worst i was pulling 2-3 all nighters a week and only 4-5 hours of sleep on the nights i didn’t? that was only for one year tho, after that i was like yeah ok this is really bad for my health in the long run LOL so i tried to cut it down to one all nighter a week and around 5-6 hours of sleep the rest of the week! by senior year my decision to cram in full semesters paid off and i was able to consistently get around 7 hours of sleep a night + no all nighters minus finals since my schedule was lighter despite thesis 😭 while there is that culture i don’t think people view it as like a badge of honor or something to be proud of anymore which is good, we mostly view it as a flaw of the art school system and something that needs to be fixed!!

- are you glad u did it? how did u know it was what u wanted?

i am glad i did it! i’m definitely in a limbo right now of if it was worth both my time, money, and my parents money rip but i think with what i got out of it i definitely wouldn’t be as far skill wise or knowledge wise when it comes to the art industry. i would say it was only worth it for be because i had so much support going in though so i was able to focus so much on improving. if i had only been able to put in part of the effort and not make full use of the resources provided i would honestly have a different answer..

i knew it was what i wanted when i realized i really couldn’t see myself pursuing a different profession happily! despite all the bumps and stuff im fully in love with drawing still and feel honored that it’s a field that can provide a living. my second profession choice was to go into culinary school? and third option i think going was into music cus i was also a band kid hehe.

- how do u cope with ur hobby becoming ur job? how do u deal with art going from something u do for fun to something u do on command constantly?

i think seperating work art from personal art is important! in my case im doubling naruto into being personal work so i have something to fall back onto that isn’t work related. its been a hyperfixation for 12+ years? so drawing it at this point is just like personal art imo. some people have hobbies outside of art and only draw for their job! i think after attending classes for so long the idea of hobby turning into job feels extremely natural? also i enjoy doing it so thats a huge plus!

sorry this is SO long but i hope i answered your guys’ questions! if you have more just lmk!

#anon #ask #long post #im so so sorry this is like long as shit #ill literally tell you guys everything though art school should not feel like a mystery esp if ur planning to go into it!#Anonymous

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the-black-birb · 4 years

Text

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢'𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐲 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐!)

This fic features Bokuto, Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, Futakuchi, and a reader character. There are no explicit romanitc pairings.

Warnings: swearing and poorly attempted humor

Summary: a bunch of idiots go go an ice skating rink. Chaos ensues

A/N: this is part of a collaborative fic with ellie (@babiekeiji ) for qee's bday!! Happy birthday cutie ilysm

QeeDay Masterlist

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

--❤--

[DIRECT MESSAGE]

Friday, 7:16 PM

waiyenn and futacoochieslayer are online!

waiyenn: KENJIIII ヽ(^o^)丿

futacoochieslayer: wot do you want from me

waiyenn: c’mon it’s the eve of my birthday be nicer to me

futacoochieslayer: but it’s not your bday yet 凸-_-凸

waiyenn: .

futacoocieslayer: wazzup

waiyenn: soooo about ice skating …

futaocoochieslayer: man don’t cancel on me now

futaocoochieslayer: i already bought passes

futaocoochieslayer: no one else is free

futaocoochieslayer: i’ll have to invite koganegawa

futaocoochieslayer: you want to see him on ice? i’ll be miserable

waiyenn: shut up im not cancelling

waiyenn: yet

futaocoochieslayer: go ahead and cancel its ur bday not mine, luv

waiyenn: make up your mind drama queen

waiyenn: anyway i invited a few of my friends along

futaocoochieslayer: ….. who

waiyenn: yk, akaashi and kenma…

futaocoochieslayer: they’re quiet

futaocoochieslayer: they’ll stay out of my way

futaocoochieslayer: that’s fine

waiyenn:... and kuroo and bokuto

futaocoochieslayer: is that

futaocoochieslayer: the chest receive guy

futaocoochieslayer: with the really nice ass

waiyenn: that’s the one

futaocoochieslayer: who won’t shut up.

waiyenn: :)

futaocoochieslayer: it was supposed to be a nice evening yn

futaocoochieslayer: we were supposed to bond

waiyenn: it’s my birthday kenji

futaocoochieslayer: ofc my bad

futaocoochieslayer: your birthday, your right to ruin it

[DIRECT MESSAGE]

Friday, 9:08 PM

akaashi and futacoochieslayer are online!

futaocoochieslayer: you’re the voice of reason, right?

akaashi: Pardon me?

futaocoochieslayer: listen idc if you guys come along

futaocoochieslayer: hell, please come along! maybe it’ll make me look better

futaocoochieslayer: but i’ve been trying to get a date with yn for months

futaocoochieslayer: don’t mess this up for me

futaocoochieslayer: and don’t let your friends either

futaocoochieslayer: sweet dreams (✿◠‿◠)

akaashi: Oh my

akaashi: Alright, I’ll do my best.

[SILENCE, BOKUTO]

Saturday, 7:56 AM

akaashi, applepi, and tetsubro are online!

akaashi: bokuto.

applepi: akaashi not capitalizing??

tetsubro: oh bokuto’s got him MAD mad

tetsubro: y’all pray for my boy bokuto nothings wrong w him he’s just a dumbass

akaashi: bokuto get online this instant

tetsubro: bold of you to assume he’s even awake at this hour

captain_daddy is online!

captain_daddy: guys you wont believe what happened

captain_daddy: i woke up to chills

captain_daddy: do you think a ghost was in my room???

captain_daddy: maybe i could get on buzzfeed unsolved

applepi: i think u have to worry about more than a ghost

akaashi: bokuto.

captain_daddy: agaaashi ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

akaashi: would you like to share with the class what you and yn discussed?

captain_daddy: oh yeah!!!! i asked her if we were on for saturday

tetsubro: and she said…?

captain_daddy: we’re going ice skating instead!!!!

applepi: we’re going what?

tetsubro: bro u can italicize text????

tetsubro: that’s meta

akaashi: We’re what???

akaashi: when did we ever agree to that...

captain_daddy: ice skating!! it’ll be super fun!!!!

akaashi: Who are we ice skating with?

captain_daddy: yn ofc!! and someone else she said…

captain_daddy: futaba?

applepi: from persona?

akaashi: -_-

tetsubro: poor akaashi…...

tetsubro: what has the world come to

akaashi: do you mean futakuchi?

captain_daddy: yeah!! that one!!!

captain_daddy: ur so cool akaashi

captain_daddy: how do you know him?

akaashi: Long story.

tetsubro: wait if it was just supposed to be futakuchi and yn

tetsubro: ...are we crashing a date?

captain_daddy: nah yn didn’t say anything about it

appepi: she didnt say or u left too early for her to explain?

captain_daddy: nah bro she invited us

tetsubro: you’re sure?

captain_daddy: yes

tetsubro: positive?

captain_daddy: yes, bro

tetsubro: bro (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)ﻭ

captain_daddy: BROOO!!!!! ٩(♡ε♡ )۶

akaashi: yn might not think it’s a date, but Futakuchi does.

tetsubro: huh?

tetsubro: HUH?????

applepi: fucking hell

applepi: lets get this over with

Saturday, 10:36 AM

waiyenn created group [PARTAYYYYY]

waiyenn added futacoochieslayer, akaashi, applepi, tetsubro, and captain_daddy to [PARTAYYYYY]

everyone is online!

waiyenn: is everyone ready to embarrass ourselves on ice •̀.̫•́✧

futacoochieslayer: first person to fall buys lunch

applepi: no one’s going to fall for that

captain_daddy: UR ON FUTABA

futacoochieslayer: falling includes getting pushed over :)

tetsubro: it’ll be a miracle if no one ends up in the hospital by the end of this

akaashi: No one is going to the hospital today.

akaashi: We’re going to follow the rules that they have.

akaashi: If anyone can’t skate, they’ll have a partner and stay close to the wall.

tetsubro: @captain_daddy will u be my partner?

captain_daddy: ofc bro

tetsubro: bro…. (｡>﹏<｡)

futacoochieslayer: yn

waiyenn: no lol

futacoochieslayer: i didnt even ask

waiyenn: you’ll drop me

futacoochieslayer: i’ll fall for u ;)

waiyenn: man wtf

applepi: im gonna hurl

applepi: wheres the skating rink anyways

futacoochieslayer: u dont know?

futacoochieslayer: lmao scrubs

futacoochieslayer: dont u live all the way in tokyo?

tetsubro: shit

captain_daddy: wait are we gonna miss it TT TT

appepi: bokuto ur literally sitting on the train next to me

applepi: We’re on the way to Miyagi

waiyenn: kenji can u send akaashi the address

futacoochieslayer: why do i have to

waiyenn: (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)

futacoochieslayer: fine.

akaashi: I’m sorry, yn, I think we’re going to be a little late.

futacoochieslayer: more time for me and yn :)

waiyenn: it’s ok guys we can wait for you

tetsubro: wow yn

tetsubro: so cold

waiyenn: ???

applepi: ur just as bad as bokuto

[DIRECT MESSAGE]

Saturday, 12:43 PM

akaashi and futacoochieslayer are online!

futacoochieslayer: [address]

futacoochieslayer: don’t. ruin. this. for me.

akaashi: I don’t have to

akaashi: I’m fairly certain you already ruined this for yourself

akaashi: Did you ever consider tell yn this was supposed to be a date?

futacoochieslayer: ah fuck

[PARTAYYYYY]

Saturday, 1:27 PM

waiyenn, akaashi, applepi, tetsubro, and captain_daddy are online!

captain_daddy: WE’RE IN MIYAGI BABYYYY

akaashi: We’re headed your way now.

akaashi: Are you at the rink?

waiyenn: nah we went to grabbed some lunch while we were waiting

waiyenn: there’s a panera bread that you’ll pass on the way

tetsubro: futakuchi paid for lunch right?

waiyenn: yes lol he’s not that bad

applepi: i see the panera

applepi: is that futakuchi with you?

captain_daddy: HE’S SO TALL

tetsubro: word

tetsubro: from the way he was texting i was expecting an incel

tetsubro: he looks more like a chad

waiyenn: lmfaooo

futacoochieslayer is online!

futacoochieslayer: srsly yn this is why u were staring at your phone

futacoochieslayer: whatever happened to having a conversation

waiyenn: okay grandpa

futacoochieslayer: that’s grandaddy to you

waiyenn: (▀̿̿Ĺ̯̿▀̿ ̿) i cannot see

futacoochieslayer: oh

futacoochieslayer: kuroo, right?

futacoochieslayer: i am a chad ;)

tetsubro: *///*

tetsubro: oya?

captain_daddy: oyaoya?

tetsubro: oyaoyaoya?

applepi: sigh

akaashi: Since we’re here can we please all stop texting.

akaashi: If you put your skates on wrong because you’re distracted, it’ll be dangerous.

waiyenn: yes mom

#QeeDay #haikyuu fanfic #futakuchi x reader

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (2) (Branjie/Scyvie)- Ortega

a/n: first off thank you to everyone who’s liked, reblogged, put something cute in their tags, dm’d or sent feedback to me/to AQ about this! it completely warms my heart and motivates me SO MUCH so thank you. in this chapter Scarlet gets a shock, someone gets a new groupchat nickname, and things are revealed during pres. as always send lovely things here or to my blog @artificialortega, and enjoy the quick updates while i’m still not at work!

Trigger Warning: alcohol. standard procedure xo

Summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

***

Scarlet stood in the street, silent, breathing heavily, and absolutely frozen to the spot. She had felt the coin drop from her hand and hit the pavement, but whether that had been seconds ago or minutes ago she couldn’t tell. All that was running through her mind was one single thought, one single number, and no matter how much her eyes darted across the small rectangle of paper it didn’t seem to change.

Five thousand.

She looked again- top left hand corner, top middle, dead middle.

Five thousand.

Scarlet took one deep breath in then held it tightly in her chest before releasing it. Selfishly, she reminded herself that it wasn’t that much money, in the grand scheme of things. Some people would get paid that a month eventually in life. But Scarlet was a student- a philosophy student at that, who wouldn’t get paid shit when she graduated and had absolutely zero job prospects.

Five thousand was big.

She never bought scratchcards. It was a whimsical purchase, along with a granola bar and a bottle of chocolate milk on her way to a lecture, but there was no fucking way that was happening now, not while she had a card in her hand that entitled her to be the proud owner of five thousand whole pounds.

Part of her panicked. Part of her didn’t know what the hell to do with all this money. She completely and utterly was not in any way used to it. She was still thinking and in a complete daze when she walked back into the shop and handed the shopkeeper the card wordlessly. Confused, the man looked at it for a moment then laughed.

“I can’t cash that here,” he chuckled, handing it back to Scarlet. “Can only give you up to one hundred. You need to phone them.”

“Oh,” she laughed, uncomfortable and embarrassed, thanking the man as she took the card and left. Once outside, she turned it over, found the phone number she needed to call, and in a matter of minutes, her NatWest banking app now read: £4985.55 (she had previously been in her overdraft).

So what the hell did she do now?

As if on cue, her phone hummed in her jacket pocket. Bringing it out to look at, she saw the group chat already exploding with messages.

Dave the Laugh: anyone down for lunch near the lib in 5?

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: Yes please. Can we go Liezen?

Kim Kardashian-West: i’m eating the most disappointing sandwich of my life in a staffroom where no other teacher is talking to me! i <3 placement!

Plastique Bague: Nina :(

Plastique Bague: I’d be down for Liezen in 5! Me n Brooke will be there after this lecture

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Biiiiiitch so sad i’m missing this!!!!!! don’t have too much fun without me xo

Scarlet paused for a moment, her thumbs hovering over the phone screen. It would probably make her feel better, going to see the girls, and Yvie would be there too. Her heart gave a little jolt as she typed her own reply.

used Tampon: Can I come too??

There was a small pause in the chat, as if everybody was looking at each other with concern despite all being in separate places. Squeezing her eyes shut, Scarlet tried to push out the spiral of her thoughts to a secret, Scarlet-less group chat the girls had without her. It wasn’t that she felt insecure in her friendship group, it was just that sometimes she felt like the odd one out, that sometimes they were only friends with her for pity, that they secretly joked about her behind her back.

That was insecurity. She’d just defined insecurity.

Sighing, she looked down at her phone again and her heart soared.

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: No sorry it’s a No Scarlet Allowed event xo

Dave the Laugh: Brooke i’m evicting u

Dave the Laugh: ofc u can join, u don’t need to ask bitch!!

Brooke’s comment completely ignored, Scarlet cheerfully made her way through the park that separated all the city’s student-land flats and the main campus, where the cafe they visited so often lay just on the outside of. She didn’t care even if the others hadn’t wanted her to join- Yvie had, and that was what mattered.

Scarlet had a weird relationship with Yvie, different to ones that she had with the rest of her friends. Whenever she saw her, she always felt like she needed to look her best or be acting nonchalant and cool, despite the fact Scarlet couldn’t be either of those things to save herself. If Yvie’s body was having a rough day and was being particularly unkind to her, Scarlet would worry and fuss, and ask Yvie if she needed anything to the point where the other girl sometimes got annoyed at her. She couldn’t help herself- the thought of Yvie being in pain was so horrible to her, cutting through her and making her fret. Sometimes Scarlet felt she couldn’t respond to or take part in any of the friendly shade or roastings that Yvie threw her way, because maybe Yvie would see that as flirting, and that would be weird. They were just friends, after all, Scarlet reminded herself with a nod. It was just…a different type of friendship than the ones she had with the others. But it was still a friendship.

Arriving at the cafe, she scanned the room and found Yvie, Plastique and Brooke Lynn sitting around a booth. Scarlet found her heart giving a jump when she saw the seat next to Yvie was free and she walked towards the table happily, sliding into the free seat and greeting everyone.

“Hey, boo,” Yvie smiled, scooting up so that Scarlet had more room.

“Oh she’s here, guys. We need to stop talking about her now,” Brooke said dryly and sipped her coffee, her tone of voice giving absolutely nothing away. Scarlet’s mouth fell open, confused.

Plastique burst out laughing as Brooke winced in pain, Scarlet feeling the motion of a leg kicking out from beside her.

“She’s fucking with you, Scarlet, don’t worry,” Plastique smiled sweetly, Scarlet grateful for the sympathy. Brooke and Yvie appeared to be locked in an aggressive staring contest, so Scarlet spoke in an effort to break it.

“How’ve your days all been?” she asked lightly, picking up the menu and giving it a flippant scan before deciding she’d order what she always did.

“Boring. I got up and went to the gym, we had a 9am-” Plastique gestured between herself and Brooke. “- and then a tutorial, and now we’re here. We made a really good effort to get some work done in the library though. We spent a whole…what was it, ten? Five minutes in there?”

“Um sorry, I would’ve happily stayed and done work but Miss I-Need-Food-Or-I’ll-Die dragged me out here,” Brooke cast an incredulous glance at her friend. Plastique shrugged.

“Guilty,” she said, before sipping at an orange juice she had in front of her.

“How’s your day been, Scarlet?” Yvie asked, her head leaning on her hand in an effort to face her.

Scarlet considered her options as quickly as she could in the two second time gap she had in which to answer. She could tell the girls about the scratchcard, or she could just…not. As mean as it sounded, she’d heard about people’s friends changing when they’d had a lottery win, and not necessarily for the better. Okay, it was only five thousand (only? ONLY?) but it was still probably more money than any of them had ever had at uni, and Scarlet still didn’t really know what she was going to do with it all. Looking in Yvie’s eyes, she was struck with a pang of guilt for what she was about to say.

“Uh, alright. I got up kinda late. I’m actually supposed to have a lecture just now, but I blew it off. Balsamic tomatoes were calling me,” she shrugged, pleased when both Yvie and Brooke laughed. As the waiter arrived to take their order, Scarlet let out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she’d been holding. She hadn’t known lying would come this easily to her. Well- technically she hadn’t lied. She hadn’t not told them about the scratchcard. She just…happened to omit it from the recount of her day.

As the waiter moved away from their table, the conversation turned to a night out that Vanessa’s flat was apparently hosting pres for this evening. Scarlet felt a pang of envy. She wished she had the sort of flatmates that were all so close and hosted things together, but instead she was stuck in a two bed with a girl she’d found on SpareRooms who inexplicably hated her. She longed to be the flat that everyone would come to for chilled times, like Brooke, Yvie and Nina, or the flat that hosted crazy parties like Vanessa, Silky and Akeria. At the very least, she wished she had Plastique’s excuse to not host anything- her incredibly rich and successful Mum had simply bought her a beautiful flat in the nicest part of town, which she shared with her friend from school. Scarlet’s mouse-infested two bed was a million miles away.

“I don’t know, Yvie, we’ve only got three weeks until showcase,” Brooke sighed, hands around her cup of coffee. Yvie waved a dismissive hand.

“Shut up with these excuses already. Plastique, you’ll come because you can’t stop yourself from drinking anything with an alcohol content higher than 3% and Brooke, you’ll come because it’s Vanjie.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Brooke asked pointedly, fixing her gaze on Yvie. The other girl laughed.

“It means you want to bone,” Yvie explained, scrunching up her face with a laugh as she made a snipping motion with her fingers.

“BOOOOOOONE?!” Plastique impersonated, causing Scarlet and Yvie to burst out laughing.

“Fuck you all. It’s not like that at all,” Brooke rolled her eyes, unamused. Scarlet felt for the girl. In the time she’d been part of the friendship group, she knew that Brooke pined for Vanessa but also that Vanessa crushed on Brooke with exactly the same intensity, Vanessa often confiding things to Scarlet in the Philosophy lectures they were in together. Scarlet had told Yvie all of this, and Yvie, naturally, told Brooke time and time again how much Vanessa liked her, but never told Brooke how she knew (a gesture, Scarlet always thought, that was sweet of her as it protected her from any fallout of Vanessa finding out that Scarlet had told Yvie).

“I think it’s sweet,” Scarlet chimed in, her stomach spasming as Brooke fixed her with an unimpressed gaze. “You know. That you’re waiting to tell her until you’re sure she likes you too. I feel like I would do the same.”

To Scarlet’s relief, Brooke pulled a smug smile and gestured across the table to Scarlet. “See? She knows.”

Yvie frowned at Scarlet, drumming her fingers against the table. “So you would wait as long as she has to tell someone you liked them?”

Scarlet found her words catching in her throat. For some reason, Brooke laughed.

“Girl. Shut up.”

“What?!” Yvie exclaimed. “It’s just interesting!”

“Interesting in what way?” Plastique asked, her face expressionless and a quick knowing look passing between her and Brooke before the waiter arrived with their food (scrambled eggs, avocado and tomatoes with balsamic on sourdough for Scarlet, bacon roll for Yvie, raisin granola with strawberry jam for Plastique and a chocolate and hazelnut croissant for Brooke) and the conversation was forgotten about. The chat then turned into uni moaning, deadline stressing and tutor bitching, something Scarlet was glad about. She’d just completed her first Philosophy essay of the year and she desperately wanted to impress her tutor after achieving good marks last year, so she vented to the girls about her worries.

“None of you will believe the conversation we had with Silky when we were at the pub the other night,” Yvie began, Scarlet already laughing as she’d heard this story before. “So she got this essay back and her tutor gave her like…52 or fifty something, it was a low mark at least. And Silk starts going off like ‘Well! I know it was a good essay! It don’t matter! I’ll just do another one!’. Like…! I had to be like 'Well it kinda does matter, bitch, it’s your whole fucking degree!’”

The girls at the table howled with laughter, glad of a cautionary tale and a distraction from their own performance at uni.

“I worry about Silky sometimes,” Brooke frowned, peeling off a small bit of her croissant and eating it.

“Silky will be fine,” Plastique reassured her through her last mouthful of granola. “At the very least she’ll get a job for a local paper and she’ll get paid to write controversial opinion pieces all day.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about grad jobs,” Scarlet sighed, the thought of having to find something to do once she finished uni making her heart palpitate. Yvie smiled, reaching out and taking Scarlet’s hand.

“You’ll be fine. It’s these two you’ve gotta worry about.”

“Oh, thanks so much,” Brooke Lynn folded her arms together and narrowed her eyes at her flatmate.

“Well. More Brooke than Plastique. She’s always got the option of living at home and getting spoiled for the rest of her life.”

“Getting suffocated, you mean,” Plastique pouted, leaning back in her seat.

“What are you going to do after you graduate?” Scarlet asked Yvie, at once interested. Yvie tilted her head and thought.

“Forensics. Or actually, I’d quite like to work at a mortuary. Something with dead bodies,” she shrugged, Plastique wrinkling her nose.

“You’re a spooky bitch,” she recoiled, Yvie laughing in that deep, Disney-Villan way that Scarlet secretly loved.

“And what, bitch? And what? Anyway,” she took a sip of her diet coke. “I don’t need to worry about jobs yet. That goes for all of us. We don’t need to think about that shit til January.”

“It’s already October!” Scarlet cried, her eyes wide and fearful. Yvie, she noted, had still not let go of her hand, as she gave it a squeeze and laughed.

“Guys, let’s not be dramatic, we will all be fine,” Brooke shook her head, finishing the last of her croissant. Her comment stung Scarlet a little and she shrank back in her chair, suddenly inhibited and self-conscious.

“Well, this was lovely but we’d better get to the lib,” Plastique shrugged, pulling out her purse. Scarlet had a sudden thought. Maybe the others would start to warm up to her if she took care of the financial aspect of friendship every now and then. A lunch here, a round of drinks there. If she started to show some generosity, then maybe the girls would start to like her more.

“Hey, I’ll treat us!” she smiled, causing all three girls to whip round and stare at Scarlet as if she had sprouted an extra head. She immediately regretted her decision. Was this too suspicious? She gave a fake laugh. “My Mum sent me some money earlier this week and said to treat me and some friends to dinner. It’s not dinner, but it’s close enough?”

To her relief, Brooke and Plastique raised their eyebrows and shrugged. Brooke sent her a warm smile from across the table. “Well lucky us! Thanks, Scarlet. That’s cute.”

Scarlet cast a glance to the girl beside her and saw Yvie looking at her with intrigue, her face deep in thought. Buoyed by Plastique and Brooke’s kindness, she stuck her tongue out at her.

“Well am I going halfers with you, then?”

Yvie relaxed, giving a laugh and pushing Scarlet a little. “Oh my God, no, I’ll take what I can get of course. Thanks, baby.”

Scarlet’s heart gave a little explosion. This was a pet name she hadn’t heard from Yvie before, and she would be lying if she said it didn’t make her skin prickle and her blood feel hot in her veins. She wished she could stop smiling, but found herself unable to.

Scarlet paid and the girls all filed out of the cafe, saying goodbye with tight hugs and cheek kisses and promises to see each other later at the pres that Vanjie was hosting. When Brooke and Plastique said goodbye to her, Scarlet could have sworn their smiles were wider than usual, and she was sure that Yvie had hugged her extra tight. Scarlet was so happy that she headed straight into town, treating herself to a new outfit for the night ahead from a shop she would never usually even set foot into. She was in the changing rooms trying it on when the group chat went off again.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Mine tonight, who’s coming!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: EXCUSE ME

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: OURS

Kim Kardashian-West: Me!!!!!! #tgif

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: they know wtf i mean

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: sorry i have other plans with more important friends who i don’t live with

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: My God your…so unfunny…it pains me physically

Kim Kardashian-West: *you’re

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: *you’re

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: *YOU’RE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: IM DYING

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: *you’re

Plastique Bague: i’m coming

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: I’m not coming any mose

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: PLASTIQUE!!!!!! you ruined it lmao

Plastique Bague: fuck u too Brooke

Plastique Bague: oh lol sorry

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Who’s mose.

Kim Kardashian-West: Tell me why I find mose so funny

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: MOSE ADDFGGHLL

Plastique Bague: oh my god mose

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: guys oh my god a bitch makes a typo!!

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: MOSE I CANT BREATHE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE set the nickname for Brooke Lynn Hytes to mose.

mose: I hate you all so much

Plastique Bague: IM DYING

Kim Kardashian-West: VANJIE AHAHAHAHAHAAHAH

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: actually fuck this has killed me off

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: VANJIE IM HAVING AN ASTHMA ATTACK!!!!!! MOSE!!!!!!

Dave the Laugh: mose lmao

Dave the Laugh: anyway i’m coming tonight

Dave the Laugh: Scarlet said she was coming at lunch

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Omg. does this mean we have a full squad?

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: this NEVER happens

mose: I’m still not coming

mose: I’m being cyberbullied

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: you are so coming bitchhhh

Scarlet noted the plethora of heart emojis Vanessa tacked on to the end of her message to Brooke before sending hers, still confident from her lunch with the girls and the short, gold dress she was looking at herself in the mirror in.

used Tampon: I’m coming so we OFFICIALLY have a full squad ladies!!

used Tampon: Well. If mose is coming xo

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: SCARLET HAHAHAHA

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Scarlet i swear that’s the funniest uv ever been

Plastique Bague: Ahahahaha WOOO!! Yaaaas to full squad!!

Kim Kardashian-West: Mose will be there if i have to drag her there!! Yay Scarlet!!!

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Brooky if u come i’ll give you a big cuddle!

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Anna ou-

mose: I don’t like that threat

mose: See you all later, I’ll be their

Plastique Bague: *there

used Tampon: *there

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: *there

Kim Kardashian-West: *there

mose: FUCK YOU ALL!!!!!!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: *THERE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: *there assddffghjkkl love u Brooke xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

After a little shopping trip, a nap, a small, solo getting-ready party and absolutely no uni work, Scarlet found herself in a taxi on her way to Vanessa’s flat, fiddling with the hem of her new dress that popped out from under her parka and wondering to herself if it was too short. She had bought the biggest bottle of gin she could find in the supermarket, not thinking twice about dropping £40 on it, and a small half bottle of tequila. Tonight would be a big one if she had anything to do with it. Scarlet was excited- she hated always being that person that had to borrow money for the entry fee, the only person who couldn’t buy drinks for everyone in the club, the person that got bought pity shots because she couldn’t afford a drink. Tonight, things would be different.

She arrived at the girls’ flat and pressed the buzzer, the music from Akeria’s room pouring out of the second-floor window already. Scarlet wasn’t that late- Vanessa had said 9 and it was only half past, but already she could hear the girls upstairs drunkenly singing along to Pitbull. There was suddenly a loud buzz from the intercom and Scarlet found the front door swinging open. She jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time in her white trainers, and was greeted with a tight hug from Akeria, whose eyes were already considerably glassy. Scarlet was led through to Akeria’s huge, fairy-lights-and-mirrors covered room, where a huge cheer went up from the girls inside at her arrival. Plastique, Nina and Brooke Lynn were all sat on the edge of Akeria’s huge bed, and Silky and Vanessa were on the worn, purple carpet beside them, making a semicircle. Yvie was sat on the small sofa opposite the bed, dressed in a black lace jumpsuit that caused Scarlet’s pulse to race. Smiling and raising up the bottle of gin from her bag, Scarlet laughed as another cheer exploded in the room. She stepped carefully over the dwindling pack of cards that formed a circle around a pint glass full of a liquid that looked absolutely vile, and sat on the sofa beside Yvie, shrugging her jacket off.

“Hey,” Yvie smiled, flipping her septum piercing in and out of her nose absent-mindedly. “You look nice. I like this.”

Scarlet felt her cheeks heat up as Yvie momentarily touched her bare thigh, fiddling with the material at the hem of Scarlet’s dress. Scarlet rolled her shoulders back and flipped some of her hair over one. “Thanks! Just got it today. You look so good!”

“God, this old thing?” Yvie put a hand to her chest and laughed, Scarlet joining in until Akeria squashed herself down on the sofa beside her.

“Thanks for stealing my space,” she said unamused and giving Scarlet a quick once-over with her eyes. “Here, I got you a glass.”

Scarlet thanked her and poured herself out a measure of gin and lemonade which was approximately 40% gin and 60% mixer. She watched as Vanjie pulled out a card from the deck and a huge roar went up from the girls, a King staring back at the girl’s disappointed face.

“Aw, fuck my life!”

“Get it down, girl!” Yvie laughed, delighting in the other girl’s anguish.

“Vanjie, I’ll drink half if you really don’t want to,” came Brooke’s voice, the groans of objection from the other girls almost making Scarlet miss the grateful smile that Vanjie shot Brooke’s way.

“Um, no the fuck you won’t, bitch!” Yvie piped up again, outraged.

“Yeah this ain’t fuckin’ I’m A Celebrity, drink the damn thing!” Silky all but screamed, the girls chanting as Vanjie raised the glass to her lips and tilted it, some of whatever was in it dripping down her chin and spilling onto her black vinyl skirt. In under ten seconds, the glass was empty and the room was cheering, Vanjie giving a triumphant smile and wiping at her mouth with a somewhat flailing arm.

“Okay, next game!” Plastique demanded, thumping her knees.

“Question game,” Nina said instantly in a monotone voice, some girls cheering and some girls groaning. Scarlet’s heart dropped.

“Noo, please! Last time we played this I got my chat nickname, and it’s fucking horrific.”

“What, when you had to tell everyone that you were the one who left the used tampon in our toilet?” Yvie laughed, and Scarlet felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

“It wouldn’t flush!! And I wasn’t about to leave it lying at the top of your bin, was I?!” she cried, Yvie laughing and pulling her into her side for a hug. Scarlet supposed the embarrassment was worth it.

“Okay, no tampon-themed questions, guys,” Akeria laughed, the others muttering a laugh around her. “Remember, if you stumble, you answer and drink, if it’s a shit question, you answer and drink-”

“Akeria! We’re in third year! We know how the fuck the game works!” Brooke exclaimed, the other girl narrowing her eyes at her.

“I’m out to get you now, bitch,” she said forebodingly, Yvie “oooooh”-ing spookily beside Scarlet and making her laugh. “Who’s starting?”

“Me!” Silky yelled, and launched into her first question before anyone could object. “Akeria, who was the last person you fucked?”

“Nina, have you ever got with a stranger in the club?” she immediately fired across the room, the other girl’s face dropping in surprise.

“Vanjie, where’s the worst place you’ve had sex?”

“Plastique, would you ever go there with Ariel?” she yelled, her face relaxing in relief that the heat was off her. Plastique, who had been taking a drink at the time, choked, and a chorus of cheers went up as the girls realised she’d have to answer. Scarlet felt for Plastique as a red prickly heat began to spread across her chest and neck.

“I mean,” she began, her voice suddenly quiet. “I guess? Like maybe it would be weird but…whatever. Yes. It’d be fun, and we wouldn’t be awkward about it the next day. And I wouldn’t have to do the walk of shame. I’d just go across the hall to my own room. So it’s convenient.“

“So the fact that she’s hot just doesn’t come into it?” Brooke deadpanned, a bomb of laughter exploding in the room and Brooke receiving an elbow in the ribs for her trouble. Scarlet could relax for the small amount of time the game wasn’t being played. She always lived in terrible fear that someone would bring up the weird sort of relationship that she and Yvie had, and she really didn’t want to have to address it. Finishing her drink, Plastique began again.

“Nina, what’s the biggest dick you’ve ever taken?”

“Brooke, anal: thoughts?”

Brooke laughed as she attempted to get her question out. “Scarlet, have you ever had inappropriate thoughts about someone in this room?”

FUCK. “Akeria, what’s the youngest you’d ever go?”

“Plastique, have you ever done speed?”

“Yvie, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever masturbated with?”

“The hell?” Yvie scrunched up her face and laughed, before moving on quickly. “Brooke, if you could fuck anyone in this room, who would it be?”

Scarlet’s mouth dropped open as she watched Brooke’s face turn white. “Silky, um…uh…oh, fuck! I had one!”

The room descended into chaos as everyone realised Brooke would have to answer the question. Scarlet jumped as she suddenly felt Yvie lean in to her side and whisper in her ear.

“How many times do we have to play this game at pres before Brooke answers with Vanessa? She has to at some point, right?”

Scarlet laughed and sat forward eagerly to hear Brooke’s answer, noticing Vanjie looking at her intently out of the corner of her eye.

“Um…” Brooke began, then laughed and took Nina’s hand. “I’m going to say Nina. Because she would make you a cup of tea afterwards and breakfast in the morning, and really what more would you want?”

Scarlet didn’t miss the way Vanjie’s smile turned into a fake one and something shut down behind her eyes. With a pang of empathy, she narrowed her eyes at Brooke and shook her head. “Shit answer!”

Brooke and Nina fixed their surprised gazes on Scarlet as the other girls laughed and some of them agreed. Nina raised her eyebrows in mock-offence. “Scarlet, I’m offended! Are you saying I would be a shit fuck!”

Scarlet felt panic rise in her chest. “No, I-”

Nina burst out laughing. “I’m only kidding, you’re right, it was a shit answer.”

Scarlet joined in with the laughter and shouts that filled the room, confidence spiking again. Brooke soon started the game once more. As things progressed, the girls got more and more drunk and more and more loud, and Scarlet’s gin and tequila got passed around the room, everyone appreciative of free alcohol. As they drank more, Scarlet felt herself and Yvie grow closer together on the sofa until she was practically in the other girl’s lap. The only problem was, as everyone drank more, they all became less on the ball with coming up with questions rapidly.

“Akeria, how do you really feel about Silky?”

“Plastique, what’s your net worth?”

“Scarlet, gaaah, have you ever had a sexy dream about someone in this room?”

“Silky, have you ever farted in bed?”

“Oh my God, y'all nasty! Yvie, have you ever fantasised about anyone in this room?”

“Nina, where was the last time that you…I mean, when was the last place…god damn it!” Yvie exclaimed, jeers filling the room as Yvie blushed uncharacteristically. Scarlet’s interest was piqued. With a small jab of annoyance, she’d wished that Silky had asked who Yvie had fantasised about, but then she’d maybe get an answer she didn’t want to hear.

“Um. Yeah. Obviously! I mean, haven’t we all?” Yvie shrugged, trying to play the question off casually. Scarlet felt her heart speed up in her chest. Akeria raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the arm of the sofa.

“Haven’t we all imagined ourselves in a sexual situation with one of our friends? I don’t think you’re gonna like the answer to that,” she chuckled, Plastique howling with laughter.

“Unless your name’s Brooke or Vanessa,” Yvie shrugged, the girls all descending into screeches of laughter, Silky’s being the loudest as she got up from the floor and started jumping on an unimpressed Akeria’s bed. Scarlet looked at Brooke, who was eyeing Yvie darkly with a tight smile on her face. Yvie cleared her throat beside Scarlet, her eyes expressing regret as if she’d gone too far. Changing the subject, she asked the next question. “Uh, Akeria, what’s your body count?”

“Nina, what’s going on with you and Monet from your course?”

“Ah, oh, um,” Nina began, flustered. She shut her eyes tightly. “Brooke, what’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent?”

“Plastique, how many nudes have you sent?”

“Vanjie, who’s the most fuckable person in this room?”

Vanjie screwed up her face and gestured in disbelief. “Shit question, bitch.”

Shouts of objection filled the room. Vanessa put her hands out in front of herself in protest.

“Now, now, now, wait a damn minute! It’s only shit because there’s an obvious answer,” she shrugged, taking a sip of Scarlet’s gin that she’d mixed with her Fanta. As everybody waited with baited breath, she rolled her eyes. “Brooke Lynn. Duh.”

As if it was Wembley Stadium at full time, the room exploded with cheers and roars, and Scarlet doubled over giggling. Brooke was laughing but her face had gone beetroot red, and Vanjie was smiling, pleased she’d elicited such a reaction. Scarlet felt herself fall into Yvie’s side as she laughed. This was great! She was having such a good time!

There was a sudden three bangs on the front door out in the hall, silencing the room and making Scarlet jump. Many of the girls giggled anxiously as Akeria threw her hands up and shook her head.

“Nope! No, I got the last three, I am not getting this one as well.”

“Bitch! Lemme at ‘em,” Silky exclaimed, getting up from her position on the floor. There was silence in which some of the girls (mostly Plastique) made inappropriate comments to try and get everyone to laugh, while they listened through the door to Silky, Vanessa and Akeria’s upstairs neighbour rant and rave about how he had work in the morning, and how this was the fourth time in two weeks, and how next time it would be the police that would get called. As she giggled, Scarlet felt Yvie take her hand and squeeze it, the other girl laughing evilly under her breath and making her laugh even more.

Fuck. Scarlet was beginning to realise her friendship with Yvie wasn’t strictly a friendship anymore.

The bang from the front door caused everyone to jump, and Silky was back in the room almost as quickly as she’d left.

“RIGHT bitches, c’mon, you heard the man, drink up, move, move, move!”

And with that, Scarlet tugged Yvie up from her position on the sofa, ready for the night that lay ahead and all the regrets and consequences that could accompany it.

#rpdr fanfiction

133 notes · View notes

domesticangel · 5 years

Note

ok ok a 68 plymouth gtx for ris is perfection but what do u think the rest of the squadra has? i really wanna say one of them has a studebaker somehow but i just dont know (ignore it was a us based company i love them anyways shhhh)

god. this is the best ask i couldve ever gotten. buckle up. ha ha. bc cars. and also bc I’m not gonna shut the fuck up

but YEAH NO SAME i also chose to foolishly disregard that italians wouldnt likely drive american cars (or necessarily drive at all…america is mad obsessed with cars compared to a lot of other countries so sdkfhsdkj) bc its all fun and games so ik a lot of this would be unrealistic but I’m american so i really only know about american cars/cars that are popular in america dskjfsdkjf so sorry for America-Centrism On Main but if any italians or ppl w knowledge of italian cars wanna chime in w their own takes, by all means!!!

oh and this post also foolishly assumes la sqaudra has money. lets pretend for just this post they all actually got paid for their jobs

SO WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY warning this is gonna make this post rly long but I’m gonna ad pics of the cars i think they’d all drive like. in case anyone reading wants to know what they look like but doesn’t wanna look em all up so I’m gonna throw this under a cut in case it gets crazy

ok i can 1000% see sorbet and gelato sharing a like studebaker speedster that they would take out cruising for special occasions….it would spend most of its time under a tarp locked in a garage bc if you touch that car without permission you WILL die by their loving intertwined hands. some couples have babies. some couples get dogs. sorbet and gelato got a studebaker speedster and treated it with almost as much love as they do each other. one might think their driving would match the “crazy” impression everyone has of them but honestly? they prefer to take it slow and cruise so they have more time to enjoy each others company. on the job they’ll wreck a rental all to hell, but not their baby. the rest of squadra would low key fear for their lives on the rare occasion that sorbet and gelato offered them rides in their car bc the inside is spotless and they all knew if they left anything out of place or dirtier than they found it their time was up

i think they’d dig a color scheme something like this; still looks mob and sophisticated without losing the whimsicality u feel me

i really like a classic chevelle ss or ‘67 mustang gt500 for formaggio

(ignore how fuckin shiney these are bc make no mistake his would be scratched and worn all to hell)

in line w my headcanon that he’d be knowledgable about cars, i think he’d like supe them up and mod them for street racing or 1960s style drag racing. since we don’t get a lot of individual sqaudra backstory i sometimes think about him maybe losing his parents at a young age or having a bad home life as is typical of passione members and getting taken in by a local mechanic, and only as he got older realizing the shop had mafia ties which eventually paved the way for his induction etc but the knowledge and interest in cars always stuck with him. i think he’d probably drive the most recklessly out of all of squadra (rivaled only by ghiaccio ofc) bc he just loves to go fast as fuck and show off. he’s definitely a revs-the-engine-when-he-drives-by-someone-cute ass bitch

illuso would drive a ‘71 dodge demon, and honestly only because he liked the name and how it looked

it would honestly drive formaggio insane that illuso would ONLY use this car to get around as opposed to flying down the countryside or doing burnouts in a field. illuso doesn’t know much about cars and he doesn’t care to learn either; if it looks good and the engine turns he’s happy. formaggio would BEG him to race him or let him take it for a spin, but illuso would be adamant in turning him down every time. he has no desire to take risks and tear up a perfectly good car, but if he feels especially generous he’ll let formaggio ride with him while formaggio excitedly rattles off specs illuso doesn’t understand in the slightest. he won’t readily admit to it but seeing formaggio that excited is really endearing and illuso would even end up learning something here and there from their time spent together

ghiaccio is anal enough about All Things Italian that he breaks my disclaimer and actually does drive an italian car. y'all already know what the fuck is going on

hell yeah ghiaccio drives a lambo. ‘71 lamborghini miura to be exact. and boy does he make this motherfucker screech and drift. as much as he seems to abuse the car he’s extremely uptight about upkeep and will take it in as often as needed for repairs. you can also bet your ass he’d berate any of his fellow squadra members that didn’t drive italian-made cars, asking them why they’d choose to drive that trash on wheels when their country is home to the best cars in the entire fucking world and they have their pick. being in the passenger seat with him at the wheel is terrifying, don’t get me wrong, but he’s actually a very skilled driver, like to the point that he probably couldve been a stunt car driver if he wanted. but whatever you do don’t show any adverse reactions to his hard turns or brakes bc he will take it as a personal insult to his skill as a driver and you will find that the louder his voice gets the heavier his foot gets on the gas so Good Fucking Luck. (also yes ik we already see ghiaccio driving a car in canon but its headcanon time and during headcanon time ghiaccio rocks the fucking lambo)

prosciutto would drive a big beautiful blue ‘65 thunderbird convertible

he would also be very particular about the upkeep of his car, but without any sort of personal touch; he hasn’t the time nor desire to keep up with the car himself so he just makes sure he takes it to a reputable shop to do it for him. it’s not his “baby” or an heirloom; its just a car. it runs and looks good as all fuck while doing it so thats all he really cares about tbh. that said, if anyone ever scratched or keyed or dented it they wouldn’t live long to regret bc as a wise man once said, you don’t fuck with a mans automobile. i mentioned this in the my squadra meme as well, but even though he smokes like a chimney, he NEVER smokes in his car. no smoking, eating, or drinking in the thunderbird. sealed packs of cigs in the console only and if the seals been broken it has to stay in your pocket. the upholstery is pristine and he prefers to keep it that way. he’s a very mild mannered driver and even often errs on the side of slow; he doesn’t really see the point in wasting gas by speeding or messing up the tires or alignment by showboating. he knows that he AND the car already look good enough to command bystanders’ attention so he doesn’t waste his time with any extra flashiness

ima keep it real with you chief: melone would drive a car you could fuck in the back of and thats about all there is to it, so look no further than the spacious ‘61 chrysler newport

he would somehow figure out a way to get an aux cord and a sound system in this old motherfucker and would listen to his music so loud it about rattled the doors off, much to any passengers’ chagrin. he’s almost worse to ride with than formaggio or ghiaccio because he texts and messes with the music the entire time he’s driving. like its almost impressive how often he manages to NOT have his hands on the wheel. he’s a master knee-driver. all that in mind the rest of squadra groans in unison when melone offers to drive and risotto, who doesn’t have time for a squabble, gives the ok and send them on their way bc they know they’re gonna have to deal with melone insisting that driver picks the music and white knuckling the handles the whole time. but regardless, if the chrysler’s rockin and the britney’s boppin, don’t come a-knockin

since i see pesci as the youngest i think he’d be the last to get a car, but the rest of squadra would surprise him by all pitching in and getting him a ‘69 buick sport wagon

it’d definitely be a fixer-upper (prosciutto insisted it’d be good for pesci to retroactively “earn” the car by learning how to take care of it, prompting the rest of squadra to point out prosciutto never even learned how to fix a car himself) but pesci would be out of his mind appreciative of it either way. after years of only ever riding in the back seat of someone else’s car he’d be so excited about finally having a car to call his own. formaggio would take him under his wing and show him everything he needed to do to make sure she stayed running in tip-top shape and they’d grow pretty close over it; formaggio would lose his damn mind the first time he’d convince pesci to do a burnout on his own. pesci would try his best to keep the car clean but he’d probably have a bad habit of leaving empty drink bottles in the floorboard or extra jackets in the back seat, but all in all he’d do a pretty good job taking care of the car and making the generous gift from his team worth it. most non-work related outings would have pesci chauffeuring, but he wouldn’t mind, bc seeing all his friends crammed into his car and having a good time would make him really happy

and last but not least risotto and his ‘68 plymouth gtx 🖤

perhaps surprisingly he wouldnt be excessively meticulous about upkeep; he definitely wouldnt do anything needlessly reckless to harm the car or neglectful of standard upkeep, but he would definitely see it as more of a personal part of him than a machine that needed to maintain perfection. he wouldn’t really sweat scratches or dents here and there; they’re bound to happen to a car that old and if he found the time he’d take it to get it buffed. like i said in the hc meme i think it would’ve belonged to his father (or any family member he was close to really) and it was passed onto him when he died so it’s kind of a sentimental thing for risotto. though not quite the same level as formaggio, he’s fairly good at making standard repairs on his own, and doesn’t mind spending a weekend or two up under the car fixing it up and making sure it runs smooth. the rest of squadra would each be surprised the first time they ever rode anywhere with him; the second the car started old classic rock or metal would blast through the speakers, with risotto mumbling a quick sorry and turning it down, but not all the way off. they would find out that their stoic leader prefers to drive with the windows down, one hand on the wheel, other out the window tapping to the beat of the music on the hood

aaaaaaaaand YEAH. i told you i wasn’t gonna shut the fuck up DSFHKJADHKSDJ LMAO SORRY I WENT TF OFF BUT YEAH THOSE ARE MY. SQUADRA CLASSIC CAR HCs

#txt #la squadra di esecuzione #yeah i gonna tag this!! just for funsies!!#idk just in case anyone else is. as interested in specifically squadra and classic cars as i am LMAO

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love-killed-the-superstar · 5 years

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femslash february strikes again and i finally updated that one cornirma fic that ive been meaning to get back to for literally an entire year

Title: The Frying Pan Conversation Pairing: Cornelia/Irma Chapter: 2 - funny how we run around Summary: “You're awake...” “Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?” “It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma. “Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow. (Cornelia and Irma spend Christmas with the Hales.)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743063/chapters/42144206

Cornelia loved watching Irma sleep. While she usually ran her mouth during the day, when she slept she had some sort of serenity around her, a tranquillity one wouldn't expect from someone who spent half the night tossing and turning, hogging the blankets and drooling all over her pillow. Yet, when morning came and Cornelia returned to wakefulness, Irma was at peace with herself in the land of dreams, hair framing her face like a halo. It took all restraint not to kiss her, but Cornelia had never been a fan of kissing before one had brushed their teeth.

Instead, she continued to watch. It was quiet and dim, the early morning sun casting strange light and shadows throughout the main room where they were set up. Without her family milling around, it felt peaceful. She wondered if this was how it would be all the time, if she and Irma moved in together some day. Sure, it wouldn't be some luxury cabin, but the world would be quiet like this. There would be no eyes on her. The whole room would be theirs to lie in silence and watch each other and feel cosy and secure. While Cornelia did want lavish things for herself someday, when she was older and things like throw pillows and vases mattered greatly in the grand scheme of things, it amazed her how easily she would sacrifice that just to be able to wake up next to Irma each morning and take on the day, regardless of whether they were in a plush king-sized bed or squashed together on a pull-out.

Geez. She really was picturing the rest of her life with Irma, like the hopeless romantic she was.

She rolled over to reach for her phone in the semi-dark. Too early to start messaging the group chat, but she hedged her bets with someone who did have a tendency to be up at this hour.

Will, you awake?

Not three minutes later, she received a reply.

ofc?? no rest for an athlete, corny. how did telling the parents go?

It didn't. Turns out I'm a bit of a coward.

nah it's tough. i only told my mom about being genderfluid a month ago, and i had no idea if she'd even CARE about it

Well, she cares about YOU. And from what you've told me, she's taken it well?

The speech bubble indicating a reply stayed for a while, and Cornelia repositioned herself so that she could watch Irma doze while waiting on Will to get back to her. After a few minutes, her phone finally pinged, and she hastily lowered the volume as Irma stirred slightly.

yeah, turns out dean being our teacher way back in the day finally paid off bc sheffield has diversity training or smth. he sat down w me and my mom and talked over all this stuff she was confused about. and she still doesn't totally get it, but she said she just wants me to be happy. guess that's all i really needed. stuff like if she comes to pride and w/e doesn't matter to me tbh, just knowing she's there for me is enough

Cornelia chewed her lip wistfully. If only it worked out that simply for everybody...

That's great. Really, I'm so happy it all worked out for you. I'm just worried about my parents, I guess. They're not bad people, but sometimes they can be so backwards with things. Really, I just want them to accept that this is a part of me so I can stop lying about a college guy just to keep them from overanalysing the way I am around Irma.

hey i get it! you're both just so darn cute together!

Indeed we are.

They shared some quick, casual conversation (Will, as usual, had some funny story to tell her about life as Taranee's roommate, and Cornelia caught them up on the bullshit that was her and Irma's road trip to the cabin) before Will had to leave to start their morning swim practice.

“Psst. Blondie.”

Cornelia dropped her phone in surprise, catching sight of rich green eyes watching her intently.

“You're awake...”

“Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?”

“It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma.

“Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow.

“You're comfy,” she mumbled.

“Yup, cushy tits run in the family,” Irma remarked, relishing in the way Cornelia shuddered with an implosion of laughter. “You know this is the first time in months we've woken up together?”

“Feels like it too,” Cornelia sighed. “I've missed this. You should really come visit me more often, you know.”

“Oh yeah? I visited you twice last term. It's your turn to visit me just as soon as daddy dearest hands over your fucking prius.”

“Well, no offence, but your college campus is like a 30 minute drive away from Heatherfield,” pointed out Cornelia. “I'd sooner you visit me than risk bumping into Uriah of all people at a house party.”

Irma scoffed. “Thanks a lot! It may not be ivy-league or State U or anything, but there's still a ton of stuff to do! Besides, pretty sure Uriah's at Sheffield Community College, Anna works with his mom.” She paused. “Though, I did run into our dear old chum Nigel at a Halloween party this year.”

“Oh? And how did that go down?”

“How do you think? He followed me around half the night asking about Tara until I finally snapped and was like, 'you missed the boat, honey, our girl is gay as the day is long'. Haven't seen him since. Reckon he dropped out when he heard how swimmingly Taranee's life is going without him.”

“I doubt he flunked out because of a girl he was dumped by five years ago,” Cornelia deadpanned.

“Uh, hello? Our girl is a catch. He's lucky to have even walked the Earth in the same lifetime as her.”

“A bit dramatic, but I get the sentiment.”

Cornelia fell quiet, listening intently to Irma's heartbeat, her breathing.

“D'you think today's gonna be the day?” Irma asked softly.

Cornelia let out a noise, somewhere between laughter and a sigh.

“How do you always know what I'm thinking?”

“Because you have the antithesis of a poker face, darlin'. I've been reading you like a book since I was thirteen.”

She tangled her fingers up in Cornelia's hair, gently combing through, careful to avoid knots.

“I don't know if it'll be today,” sighed Cornelia. “Does it make me a hypocrite? I was so certain I wanted to do it this time.”

“Look. You need to stop putting this pressure on yourself to do everything exactly how you imagined,” Irma said firmly. “You don't have to tell them I'm your girlfriend. You don't even have to tell them you're pan if you aren't ready for it. We can call this off, you can spend the rest of Christmas break not having to worry about their reactions, and we can make out and cuddle and all that good stuff the second we set foot in my house. Would that make you feel better?”

“No?” Cornelia reached up to pull Irma into a proper hug. “I want them to know how happy you make me. I want them to know that I'm happy being myself. But the part where I actually tell them? Opening up like that, it... it's a very emotional process.”

“I know. I know it is. But I promise you, once it's out in the open... never mind their reaction, you will feel worlds better with it off your chest.”

“Ugh, why does my girlfriend have to be so wise?” Cornelia wondered aloud. Irma formed a fist and lightly knocked her on the head.

“If I'm going to be a teacher some day, I gotta be wise. I'm meant to be some sort of inspiring prophet, if your dad's stirring speech at dinner last night was anything to go by.”

“He's a passionate guy,” Cornelia shrugged.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

A sudden creak from down the hall disrupted them, and they sprung apart, Cornelia sitting upright and reaching for her phone while Irma pretended to go back to sleep. A moment later, Harold's face poked around the door.

“Morning, darling!” he uttered in a stage-whisper, before stepping into the room clad in his robe and slippers. “Does Irma take coffee? I was thinking of brewing a pot to wake your mother up.”

“Only with six million sugars in,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “Don't worry, I'll take over. I know how to make it so she doesn't spit it out.”

Harold laughed, and moved over to start on breakfast as Cornelia set up the coffee maker.

“You two are as thick as thieves.”

Cornelia's hand froze.

“...Well, we're still good friends, but...”

“I drifted apart from my school friends when I went away to college, you know,” Harold mused. “I regret it now. The rift grew so big, and by the time I saw them again they were married, had families... and although we could still talk with ease about these kinds of things, the bond we shared at school – the books we liked to read, the movies we saw together, the pranks we would play on our teachers – all of that was gone. It was something we could look back upon and laugh at, but it's not the same.”

“I didn't know that.”

Harold offered her a kind smile, and reached over to crack some eggs into a bowl, dusting the mixture with pepper.

“Well, I think it's important to keep in touch with those you love. I was actually quite worried when I heard that you were going to your college alone. I know how close you are to the girls you met at Sheffield. I'm... glad that you were able to keep a close bond with them despite the distance.”

Oh, if only he knew how close.

Cornelia set out some cups on the side, hoping her face wasn't burning. If she really was as easy to read as Irma said...

“Well, they're my friends. They're important to me.” She glanced over at him. “Dad, I'm... I'm really happy with my life right now. With the person I am, and the person I'm with.”

Harold stopped whisking, and moved over to pull Cornelia into a tight hug.

“I'm so glad to hear that, darling. I really am.”

They worked in a pleasant silence after that, and when Irma next rolled over, Cornelia was nudging her, cup of overly sweetened coffee in her hand.

“Rise and shine.”

Harold was whistling away as Irma took her first sip, his back to them as he began tossing some bacon and eggs in the pan.

“Mmm. You made it just how I like it.”

“Well, you're picky. If my dad made it you'd choke it down and feel awful the rest of the day,” Cornelia teased. Irma stuck her tongue out.

“Jerk.” After another sip, she added coyly, “I heard the conversation between you two. It was sweet. Are you thinking today might be the day after all?”

“Maybe,” Cornelia said, a flame of confidence ignited in her heart. “He really wants me to be happy, so... maybe when I tell him, he'll understand.”

“Look, Harold Hale might not be leading a revolution, but he's always seemed like a chill guy to me,” Irma said quietly. “If you keep dropping hints, he might figure the rest out on his own.”

“Maybe.”

Cornelia glanced back at her father, still blissfully unaware of their conversation, and she leaned down to press a kiss to Irma's forehead.

“Now, drink up. We have a big day ahead of us.”

…

Breakfast was uneventful, with Lillian dominating the conversation with talk of some dream inspired by a zombie TV show she'd been binge-watching over Christmas break. Irma munched on French toast and bacon and watched in amusement as Harold became disgustingly sweet with Elizabeth, pressing kisses to her head whenever he went to refill drinks, even reaching down to pinch her behind when he was sure his daughters and his oldest's girlfriend weren't looking. Elizabeth swatted his hand away, pretending to be mortified at his brazen display in front of Irma, but the rouge on her cheeks and the affectionate eyeroll told another story. All the while, Cornelia quietly ate and drank, keeping a straight face while prodding Irma's foot playfully with her own under the table.

Oh, Irma could get used to mornings like these.

They took turns showering and dressing, and did the usual routine of wrestling for more mirror space as they brushed their teeth and put on make-up.

“So what's the plan for today?” Irma asked, rubbing some kind of moisturiser into her cheeks. Cornelia leaned in closer and inhaled with a happy sigh. Mango. Irma took the opportunity to turn and press a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Cornelia pulled away with a grin.

“Oh, well now we're all together, today will definitely be a decorating day. I mean, it's Christmas eve tomorrow, so it'd be a little sad if we didn't have the decorations ready by then,” she explained with a shrug, uncapping her mascara beginning to apply it to her upper lashes. “It really shouldn't take too long though. We'll have some time to get away, don't worry. And I think tonight my parents reserved dinner for us at a restaurant in town. I have to warn you, the waiter we had last time was super obnoxious...”

Irma stared at her reflection in the mirror, zoning out of Cornelia's anecdote about the wait staff at said restaurant, before glancing over at her girlfriend. In their teen years, she'd always envied how immaculate Cornelia's appearance was. She'd always seemed flawless somehow, even though Irma knew better and would never ever admit that much. Then, those feelings started to mix with something else, and attraction, jealousy and self-consciousness melted into an ugly soup of insecurity in her psyche. Even now, when she knew better than anyone that Cornelia was smitten with her, doubt crept in, especially in situations like these when they had to stand beside one another and pretend like they belonged in the same league.

“You're beautiful,” she sighed, interrupting Cornelia's spontaneous yelp review. Cornelia's hand jerked at the suddenness of Irma's statement and she hurriedly reached to blot away a clump of mascara stuck to the end of her eyelashes.

“Oh. Well, I do my best, and when it comes to make-up practice always makes perfect, you know.”

“I'm not talking about make-up, though yeah, you should consider dropping out of college and becoming a beauty guru on youtube instead.”

“Well, I think you're gorgeous too,” Cornelia replied with a smile, moving onto her lips. First a layer of balm to soften them, a waiting period of three minutes, and then the application of gloss or lipstick. It was her routine every time, and the waiting drove Irma mad in the mornings they'd spent together over the years. Cornelia's lip balm always smelled so damn good that fighting the temptation to kiss it clean off was a rare torture.

“Have you seen me?” muttered Irma, frowning at her reflection. “Eyebags for days. Messy brows. My lips are chapped to fuck and my skin has been kind of red lately...”

“Every time I see you I want to kiss you all over,” Cornelia said in the kind of factual tone that had Irma raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Still, she didn't protest as Cornelia wound her arms around her, and Irma caught a whiff of coconut lip balm. God damn it, she wanted Corny-kisses so bad. “You still get insecure, huh?”

“Hard not to when my girlfriend could pass for a fucking supermodel.”

“While I'm flattered that you hold me in such high regard, you're a far cry from the disaster you're making yourself out to be,” Cornelia laughed. “Besides, if you're really worrying about stuff, just talk to me, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Irma muttered. Cornelia rifled through her make-up bag for a few moments, before bringing out a small bottle.

“Come here, dope. Let me help you.”

“Why pay big bucks for a beautician when you can get one for free in the form of a generous girlfriend?” Irma deadpanned, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Cornelia grinned back and started to apply the liquid to her cheeks and brow with some kind of blender sponge thing shaped like an egg.

“The trick to combating redness and dark circles is to have a good, strong base that neutralises any discolouration in your skin. In your case, green tones kind of cancel out reds, and yellows are good against dark circles, so it just leaves your skin looking healthier, see?”

She switched over quickly to one with a yellower hue, and Irma hummed in agreement, staying put as Cornelia began tending to her eyebags.

“I think I get where you're coming from. Hay Lin calls me up all the time to gush about colour theory, the importance of colour wheels is stuck in my brain for life.”

“Oh, you and Hay Lin call each other all the time? More than me?” Cornelia teased. She put down the sponge and reached back over to her make-up bag, retrieved something that Irma could only describe as the world's tiniest broom, and began to tame Irma's unruly eyebrows. “Don't tell me the two of you are having a sordid affair behind my back.”

“Our torrid love affair is about as real as yours with mystery botanist man,” Irma responded. Without breaking eye contact with Cornelia, she reached over for her own chapstick and began to apply it. Cornelia's tongue poked out slightly in concentration as she smoothed down Irma's brows.

“It's bad enough my parents keep going on about him, don't you start.”

“Well, he is my alter-ego,” Irma pointed out. “Seems a little rude to silence my opinions on him.”

“I hate when you make a good point.”

Cornelia leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Irma's brow, breathing in the smell of her mango moisturiser one more time and sighing deeply. Irma, in a similar moment of pure, unfiltered lesbianism, caught the scent of Cornelia's lip balm and damn went out of her mind. She tilted Cornelia's head down and what transpired for the next few minutes were a combination of kisses, hugs, and several attempts to escape Irma's python-like grip.

“It's lipstick time,” Cornelia complained, a playful glint in her eye as she finally pried Irma's arms off of her waist. “My lips will dry out.”

“Honey, we're both balmed up, if anything, now we have a double coating. You'll be fine.”

“Still, the sooner my make-up is done, the sooner we can get decorating out of the way, and the sooner we can chill out watching crappy holiday movies.”

“The temptation to stay in this bathroom where no one's watching and we can keep kissing forever, though...”

“Aren't we saving 'kissing forever' for the week at your place?” Cornelia asked innocently, perfectly pencilled eyebrows raised.

“No, that's 'sex forever', silly,” Irma said cheerfully, clapping her on the back.

She glanced back at her reflection. While the foundation and tiny grooming hadn't done much besides tidying her reflection up some, her eyes twinkled with something she could only describe as 'the Cornelia effect', and she found her appearance didn't really bug her so much by this point. As they stood side by side, Irma came to the realisation that she and Cornelia really did fit together, but more like a pair of odd socks that compliment each other in all their contrasting glory.

Maybe someone else would call that love.

…

Christmas with the Hales was turning out to be pretty fun.

Irma and Lillian fought bitterly over control of the spotify playlist that morning, while Elizabeth and Cornelia decorated the tree and Harold cheerfully filmed the entire ordeal. Lillian was stubbornly obsessed with the classics, while Irma kept switching them out for lesser appreciated cover versions, partly because rooting for the underdogs was how she rolled, and partly because she got immense glee out of pissing Lillian off (and for that, Cornelia saluted her for her heroism). When Karmilla's edition of 'All I Want For Christmas' came on instead of Mariah Carey, Lillian threatened to throw Irma's phone out of the window, which had Elizabeth swooping in and putting an end to their temporary rivalry.

They called a truce when the parents set out to buy icing and other edible decorations for the Christmas cookies, leaving the girls to prep them for baking. Lillian greased the baking tray while Cornelia mixed eggs and flour and sugar and cinnamon together in a big red bowl. Irma, meanwhile, sat herself on the island and, in compromise with Lillian, put on a playlist of nineties nostalgia, singing along to Re-feel-it and pretending to drum with a pair of wooden spoons against the countertop.

“Funnyyyyy, how we run around,” she belted. “And see what we got, we don't even know what it is we found...”

“And honey, take a look around,” Cornelia chimed in, using the whisk as a microphone. She spun on her heels, her eyes meeting Irma's as she lifted the whisk up to her lips. “By the time we get there we won't even know where it is we're bound!”

The two of them burst out laughing, and Lillian rolled her eyes. “Dorks.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Cornelia sighed dramatically, smirking at Irma before turning back to the mixing bowl and continuing to whisk the mixture. “I forgot we were in your divine presence, Lillian. I hope you can forgive us for entering the realm of uncool nostalgia for two seconds.”

Irma snorted.

“You know, she always gets more sarcastic when you're around, Irma,” Lillian accused.

“Yeah, I rub off on her. I'm a baaaad influence.”

“Is that any way to talk to our renowned guest?” Cornelia chastised. “What would Dad say?”

“He'd probably tell you not to sing into the whisk. You know how many germs you could be putting into the cookies by breathing on the mixture? You've built up an immunity living among students, but have some consideration for those of us who haven't stepped foot in a sweaty student union hall.”

“You're actually mad,” Irma cackled. “What kind of diseases could Cornelia have besides a bad case of the cooties? Unless... Corny, please don't tell me your parents are anti-vaxxers, or I might have to end this friendship for good.”

“Hell no, they're fine. Since when did you become such a germophobe, Lillian?” Cornelia teased.

“I play zombie games,” Lillian responded sagely. “I know how infection spreads.”

“They really don't paint as accurate a picture as you've been led to believe.”

As the mixture began to thicken into a dough, Lillian joined Irma on sitting on the island counter.

“So what's college like?”

“Classes are boring, my roommate sucks, and I'm drowning in student loans. But the parties are fun, and the people are cool when they aren't being pretentious tools.”

Lillian hummed.

“I can't wait until I go to college. Community's one of my favourite shows.”

“Heh, well, Community is an exaggeration for the sake of comedy, but...”

“Cornelia, what's your college like?”

“You saw it when you and Mom and Dad helped me move in,” Cornelia pointed out, distracted as she began to knead the dough.

“Yeah, but it's not the same! Your dorm is nice, sure, but what about the classes? The parties? The boys?”

“Hmm, I don't know about that. Boys aren't my area of expertise.”

“Well that's gay.”

Irma raised her eyebrows.

“Using 'gay' as an insult? Very 2004 of you.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Sorry. So you don't have a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” Irma said shortly.

Cornelia began to knead a little harder.

“I bet you know stuff about Cornelia's boyfriend though,” Lillian said to Irma, arms folded. “Why doesn't she talk about him? Is he secretly ugly?”

Irma snorted.

“Ha. I know a thing or two, but he's actually... probably the most handsome person I've ever known. Aside from your sister!” She playfully punched Lillian on the arm, who looked unimpressed by the statement. Cornelia made a strangled sound.

“Lillian, pass me the cookie cutters, please,” she choked.

Lillian raised her eyebrows and hopped off the counter top, retrieving ones shaped like pine trees and angels and bells, handing them to Cornelia.

“Here they are, weirdo. Anyway, you can't blame me for being curious! We had to pry it out of you that you were seeing anyone at all, and you're always so twitchy when we bring him up. Irma, is he a junkie or a biker or something?”

“Nope, just a loser who lies around watching cartoons all day,” Irma responded with a lazy grin.

“So you have a thing in common.”

“Lillian!” Cornelia admonished, slamming a cookie cutter into the dough with enough force to make the other shapes jump. “Also, Irma, I don't appreciate you calling my partner a loser.”

Lillian pulled a face.

“Partner? What are you, old timers?”

“Cowboys,” Irma chimed in.

“Oh, stop teasing me,” Cornelia huffed. “I'm just trying to be more inclusive. The world could do with more of that, you know.”

Lillian shrugged. “Whatever. So you're liberal now?”

“I reckon I've always been, yes.”

“And you, Irma?”

“Socialist, through and through.”

“Of course you are.”

“Just wait until college, Lillian,” Irma chided with a smile, as Cornelia began setting out the Christmas cookies on the tray. “There's a whole wide world out there.”

…

The Italian restaurant Harold took them to that night was fucking fancy, to say the least. The kind of fancy where there were lemon-scented wipes in little packets on every table and complimentary garlic dough balls and everyone was in suits and dresses. The Hales looked like they fit right in, and Irma was some vagrant they'd picked up off of the streets and were treating to dinner in a commendable act of charity.

“I don't even know what half the stuff on this menu is,” Irma hissed to Cornelia as they took their seats.

“It's good food,” Cornelia promised. “They just use posh names to scare people into thinking its worth the money they're paying. Come on, you watch enough Hell's Kitchen to know what filet mignon is.”

Irma ended up ordering something that she was pretty sure was some kind of beef thing, and Cornelia ordered the one pasta dish on the menu that used aubergines instead of pancetta. The wine was decent at least, and Irma found it easier to sneak glances at Cornelia's cleavage in the scoop neck dress she was wearing with the large flower centrepiece obscuring them from her parents. Lillian, while looking the part in a simple white turtle neck dress, was very obviously playing on her phone under the table.

The sweet onion soup starters arrived swiftly, and Irma was dragged back into a light grilling about her teaching degree from Harold, while Elizabeth began to catch Cornelia up with the latest family drama.

“Why, I just think it's so inspiring that you're choosing to act as a beacon for young people, and pave their futures-”

“-And your uncle, of course, is still coming around asking for money, as if your grandparents don't have enough to worry about-”

“-And you know, teaching qualifications open up the whole world to you! You could teach in international schools, or you could teach English in schools where it's a secondary language-”

“-It's not like their health is getting any better, you know! I keep telling him it's time to stand on his own two feet, he's certainly old enough-”

The moment that their waiter came to take the dishes away, Irma hurriedly excused herself.

In the bathroom (one of those spotless white ones with tiny shell-shaped soaps and embossed toilet paper because of course, rich people) Irma took a few moments to collect herself, staring at her reflection in dismay. She'd done her best to look presentable, but she still stuck out like a sore thumb in this kind of environment. Her dress was a little tight since the last time she'd worn it was for graduation, and her choker was crooked. Her bun was already starting to look lopsided, the redness of her cheeks was starting to show through the base Cornelia had applied that morning...

“Why am I not as perfect as the folks out there?” she muttered to herself, eyes narrowing as she glared at her reflection. She reached for one of the shell-shaped hand soaps and began to pick it with the edge of her fingernail. Absently, the faucet turned and water began to gush out, thrumming to the beat of her frustration.

After a few minutes of self-loathing and contemplation, she heard the sound of the door open behind her, and saw a flash of Irish green fabric, before Cornelia came up behind her, a vision of concern. She startled as the small army of water gushing from the faucet turned on her, almost letting out a hiss of steam, before Irma quickly called it off, allowing it to taper down the drain and out of sight.

“Irma, are you okay? My parents thought I should check on you in case the wine didn't agree with you, but...”

“Yeah, it isn't the wine,” Irma sighed. “It's this whole place. I can't fucking believe your dad called this place rustic on the way here.”

“He doesn't know the meaning of the word,” Cornelia agreed with a giggle. She wrapped her arms around Irma, leaning down to rest her chin on her shoulder. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Really?” Irma sighed. “I don't feel it. Or is this a classic 'lying to your girlfriend's face so she doesn't start crying in a stupidly fancy bathroom' tactic?”

“Well, it wouldn't be a great start to the meal.” Cornelia pressed a kiss to her jaw. “But I'm serious. You look great.”

“I'm practically bursting out of this dress. My tits are fighting for freedom. And my hair is coming undone and my stupid face is getting stupid red!”

“Of course it is, you've been drinking,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “And your face is the furthest thing from stupid, so don't even start.”

“I'm past the point of starting, Corny, I'm waist-fucking-deep in it. Look at this damn soap.” She gestured aggressively towards a shrivelled pebble in the basin. “That was shaped like a fucking seashell when I came in here and I picked and picked at it and now it looks like, I don't know, a really tiny golf ball?”

“Wow. Okay, let's take a step back from the soap.” Cornelia spun her around and rested her hands on her shoulders. “Irma, you look wonderful tonight. Seriously, you do, and I hate that going to this stupid dinner has made you so worked up.”

“It's not just the dinner.” Irma frowned up at her so-tall-it-was-unfair girlfriend. “Look at us. I mean, really look. We're like chalk and cheese, except, you're too pretty to be chalk. We're like – I don't know! An oil painting and cheese! I don't belong here eating food so fancy I can't pronounce it with wine I'm too weak to drink and in a dress that's too tiny for my damn good. You might fit into this magazine-spread life where everything is minimalist and perfect and velvet but I just don't. I saw it in the mirror this morning and I saw it in the mirror again just now. Are you honestly okay with that?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Cornelia asked, the smile gone from her face. “I love you. I love having you in my life. Sure, I like the nice material stuff sometimes, but if you think for one second that I'd put that stuff before you – before us – then the wine has definitely gone to your head.”

Irma huffed. After a beat, she muttered, “Rich people wine is ridiculous.”

“Agreed. Now, listen to me. We're too deep into this relationship to be hitting insecurities over stuff like this, got it? You know I come from money. You wanted to come on this trip with me. Unfortunately, that means seeing the way my family lives up close and personal. I just want you to remember that doesn't define me, or how I feel about you. I want you here. Okay?”

“I hate when you're being reasonable,” Irma groaned. She hugged Cornelia tight.

“Oof. Heh, don't tell me you're drunk already, we have the rest of a dinner to get through.”

“Are you gonna tell your parents tonight?” Irma mumbled into Cornelia's waist.

Cornelia hummed uncertainly. “Maybe. I don't know.”

“Well, remember I still love you. If you don't wanna come out here in this stupid fancy restaurant, no pressure. We'll make it happen some other time.”

“Hey, no need to comfort me, you're the one feeling insecure,” Cornelia teased. Irma lifted her head up to protest, and was met with Cornelia's lips pressing against her forehead.

“Ugh, you're too cute,” whined Irma. “If I weren't wearing heels I would go on my tiptoes and kiss you. And if you weren't wearing heels, we might actually be fucking level for once.”

“Thanks for clarifying that,” Cornelia quipped. “Not to worry, I can accommodate you.”

She leaned down and cupped Irma's cheeks, pulling her into a kiss.

The sound of the bathroom door abruptly shutting ended the sickeningly sweet moment, and they jolted apart. Lillian stood there, wide-eyed.

“Uhhh. Mom told me to come get you two, the main courses are out...” She blinked a few times. “Are you guys... lesbians?”

“Lillian,” Cornelia started, voice strained.

“I'm a lesbian,” Irma said with a shrug and an awkward chuckle.

“So you called me ignorant earlier even though you really are gay?”

“Ignorance is ignorance, sis.”

“Lillian, please don't tell Mom and Dad about this,” Cornelia pleaded. “I'm going to tell them myself, I just haven't had time to yet.”

Lillian folded her arms and huffed.

“I can't believe your mystery guy is just Irma.”

“Oh, ouch?”

Cornelia let go of Irma and approached Lillian.

“I'm serious. Can you please promise me you won't say anything?”

Lillian shrugged.

“I guess. I mean, I don't care about it. Not like they'd believe me anyway.” Seeing Cornelia's pinched expression, she sighed loudly. “All right, no. No, I won't say anything. So you can stop looking at me like that! Now come on, or Mom will be next to find us in here.”

As she pushed open the door to leave, she turned back.

“Also, Irma, you've got lipstick on your face. Hard to play dumb when the evidence is right there on your forehead.”

“When did she become such a smartass?” Irma muttered as Cornelia fished around in her clutch, bringing out a make-up wipe. “Look, don't panic. Lillian might be a pain, but she respects your business. Probably. I mean, I don't know her that well, but it's none of her business right? She knows that.”

“How did she seem to you?” Cornelia asked, chewing her lip. “Uncomfortable? Freaked out? D-Disgusted?”

“None. It was the same kind of grossed out she got when she caught you making out with Peter for the first time, I reckon. It was sibling disgust, not, y'know, her being a phobe.”

“Are you sure?” Cornelia fretted.

“Super sure. Now come on, you heard what she said. Lets go back before your mom drags us back by the ears.”

Irma reached over to squeeze her hand and didn't let go until they were out of the bathroom and in sight of the Hales. Elizabeth turned and shot them a disapproving look, motioning them back over, and Harold's face lit up with a delighted smile.

“I was starting to think the two of you had fallen in!” he joked, as they took their seats. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything's fine,” Cornelia promised, a lie rolling effortlessly from her tongue as Irma stared down at the steak au poivre in front of her. “Irma just smudged her mascara and needed me to come to her rescue.”

“Ah, I see. Surely it shouldn't take that long though?” Elizabeth turned to Lillian. “Were they taking selfies?”

“Oh, they were having a gay old time in there,” Lillian deadpanned.

Cornelia froze. Irma dared to look up from her food to stare daggers at Lillan.

A moment passed, and Harold shrugged.

“Well, I'll never understand it, myself. But the youth of today are always finding beauty in everything! They can make moments last a lifetime! And I'm envious that an entire generation has learned to take pictures from an angle that certainly appear more flattering in post-production...”

As his speech continued, the tension melted away. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the two of them, as if to silently chastise them for sending Harold on a spiel about technological advancements, before tucking into her food.

Cornelia swiftly kicked Lillian under the table, but all she got back in response was an impish grin.

…

“Urgh, I'm full to burst.”

A now pyjama-clad Irma flopped face down on the pull-out bed, before rolling onto her side and burping softly into the back of her hand.

“I told warned you against dessert, if you recall,” Cornelia said with a grin, pulling her nightgown over her head.

“Yeah, but they had cheesecake. You know I'm weak for cheesecake, Corny.”

“That I do.” Cornelia lay down beside her. “I was a bundle of nerves the whole night.”

“Aw, come here.” Irma pulled Cornelia close, combing her fingers through her hair. “Lillian was just being a brat, that's all. She's got dirt on you, of course she's gonna poke a little fun. But she wasn't about to out you or anything.”

“I know,” Cornelia groaned. “I know. But she's on thin ice, I'm telling you now!”

“Well, the sooner you get it off your chest, the sooner she'll lose that power over you,” Irma pointed out. She yawned. “I'm pooped. Can you turn the light off? And then come spoon me?”

“Sure, your highness,” teased Cornelia, prying Irma's hands off her waist. As she wandered over to the light switch near the hallway, she caught sight of Lillian leaving the bathroom. The two stood there in silence for a few moments, before Cornelia uttered, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Lillian shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Hey, Cornelia?”

“Yeah?”

“Um. I know I didn't say it at the restaurant, but... I don't like, mind or anything. About you and Irma.”

Relief washed over her.

“You don't?”

“No! And you should stop caring that somebody does, you know? Mom and Dad are whatever. I don't know if they'd care about it. But, it shouldn't matter if we mind or not, that's my point. It's about you and Irma, not about the rest of us. Although, since you're a lesbian now, I wish you had better taste in girls. I've seen her eat peanut butter out of the jar with her fingers,” Lillian pointed out, pulling a face.

Cornelia, stunned by the overload of information, leaned back against the wall.

“With her fingers?”

“Yup. It was our house peanut butter, too!”

Cornelia buried her head in her hands. “Oh my god. If I didn't love her so damn much that would for sure be a deal breaker. Also, I'm not a lesbian.”

“You're not?”

“No. I loved Peter, remember?”

Lillian pouted. “Yeah. I miss him.”

“I know you do, you remind me all the time.” Cornelia squared her shoulders. “Lillian, I'm pansexual.”

Lillian raised an eyebrow. “Pansexual?”

“Yes. Pansexual. I... fancy people regardless of whether they're a guy, a girl, or nonbinary.”

“Nonbinary?”

“The internet is a great place to learn about this stuff, since you're on the track to being an ally now.”

Lillian giggled.

“Yeah, I guess. Well, okay. So you're not gay, you're... what's the short of it? Pan?”

Cornelia nodded wordlessly.

“Okay. Cool. You're pan. And Irma's your girlfriend. And she's a lesbian?”

“Yes. You caught on fast.”

With a shrug, Lillian said simply, “It wasn't that hard to grasp. You're pan, Irma's gay, you're dating. That's that.”

Cornelia's mouth opened and closed a few times. At last, she uttered, “You made that seem really easy.”

“I'm a smart and socially aware kid,” Lillian said proudly, hands on her hips. Her smug expression softened. “And I'm happy you're happy. I was kinda thinking, cause you never mentioned your 'mystery uni boyfriend', that maybe you didn't really like him. I'm glad it's just a mix up.”

Cornelia's heart swelled, and she stepped towards Lillian, hugging her tight.

“You're a good sister.”

“And you're a clingy sister, god!”

They bid goodnight and Cornelia climbed into bed beside Irma, who had her back to her and was softly groaning. She yelped as Cornelia wriggled under the covers.

“Holy crap, Corny, your feet are colder than Mount fucking Thanos!”

“So warm me up.”

“Sorry, you got the wrong guardian for that party trick.”

Cornelia rolled her eyes fondly and reached around to spoon her.

“Geez, you ate too much. Your stomach feels like a rock.”

“Don't bully me, that was rich people food! How many times am I gonna get to eat like that again, huh?”

“If you'd just let me take you fancy places-” Cornelia pointed out.

“You know I hate fancy places!” whined Irma, punctuated by another burp. “Ugh. Just cuddle me to sleep, jerk.”

“Who are you calling a jerk, jerk?”

Cornelia obliged nonetheless, letting her body wrap around Irma's with a familiarity that had adapted over the years; from guardian sleepovers to family vacations to just the two of them drunkenly sprawled out in Cornelia's dorm. And now here they were, fitting together like jigsaw pieces, water and earth.

“Sweet dreams,” Cornelia whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Irma's neck.

“Keep your lips to yourself, Corny,” mumbled Irma sleepily, snuggling closer all the same.

#w.i.t.c.h.#w.i.t.c.h #cornirma #irmelia #femslash february #cornelia x irma #irma x cornelia #cornelia hale #irma lair #irma/cornelia #cornelia/irma #writing

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