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azsazz · 2 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 22)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Smut!

Word Count: 4,106

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Masterlist]

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For the third time tonight you catch yourself bobbing your head and mouthing along to the words of the song blaring through the walls instead of reading the words in the art history book that you’re staring at.

Cursing, you toss your pencil into the crease of the textbook and lie your head in your hands. You’ve read the same page three times over but you haven’t absorbed one ounce of information. It’s something about the art in ancient Rome and the different ways God figures are portrayed.

Your phone buzzes from the spot next to you and you can’t help but grin. You’d declined an invite to another one of Cassian’s infamous parties because you have a test on Monday and you can’t afford to fail. You barely passed the first one by the skin of your teeth and you’ll be damned if you don’t pass this class with less than a B. Azriel had even pestered you about it for a bit, but ultimately left you to focus on your schoolwork, or, as much as half of your attention on the page you could manage.

A: I can’t believe you’re studying right now. I can’t even focus on my drawing. How are you doing it?

Y: You’ve trained me in the art of studying with loud backgrounds, don’t you remember? You quickly follow that text up with another. Y: I should’ve joined in on the fun instead. I’m going to fail art history, anyway. I could really use a shot right now.

Azriel’s response pings your phone faster than Cassian saying something sexual. A: How about something else that might cheer you up? ;)

A puff of laughter chokes out. Checking the time in the corner of your screen your smile falls and you want to groan. You’ve only been attempting to study for forty five minutes.

Y: As mood improving that might be, I really need to study. This sucks.

To garner some extra sympathy, you tack on a frowning emoji at the end.

A: It’s not that hard, princess.

It’s a bold move to reply: Y: Your cock? Or art history? But you hit send anyway.

A: Both, but the pair can be remedied.

Y: Come over.

There’s a sudden slamming of a bedroom door through the wall that startles you, then forces you into a fit of giggles, realizing how eager Azriel had been to escape his apartment and see you.

The thought sends butterflies off in your stomach and your heart kicks giddily in response. You’re just as excited as he is, shoving your chair back from your desk and bounding towards the door.

Soft light from the lamp in the corner of the living room washes the apartment in a warmth that feels like you’re being cuddled. The rest of the apartment is dark, empty. Feyre had popped her head into your room earlier, asking if you wanted to go to the party next door but at that point in the night you were still determined in your studying, waving her on without you.

There’s a soft knock on the door and when you tug it open Azriel is barging inside, all but tackling you on his way inside. His hands find your hips like a magnet and you’re swept up in the heat of his body as it collides with yours as he sweeps you further into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Hurry,” he whispers, and his long strides are no match for your shorter legs. You feel like you’re tripping, tangled up in him, but he holds you steady, firm, like a rock you’ve been missing from your life.

It’s quite nice.

Azriel reaches behind himself to lock your door before he’s turning back to you and planting a kiss to your forehead. “Before Tarquin sees me.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. He’s snug in his usual garb, a black t-shirt that clings to his body like a second skin. His jeans sit low on his hips, the waistband of his briefs calling your name. The fact that you know what’s beneath these clothes is as intoxicating as his blissful scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Who’s Tarquin?”

“Old friend,” Azriel huffs. “He was just arriving at the party. If he saw me he would’ve wanted me to tap the keg with him and I’d much rather be here, tapping you, princess.”

You shove playfully at his chest but Azriel catches your wrists and pulls you back into him for a popper kiss. You fall into it, body relaxing and even pressing yourself further into him. His hands slide around your waist and over the curve of your ass where he grabs a handful, sighing contently against your lips.

He’s been the perfect gentleman since the chat you shared at Rita’s, and has even offered to walk you to and from your classes, though you suspect that has more to do with Lucien than not wanting you walking alone, even though you share most of your classes with Feyre.

“Hi,” you whisper when he pulls away only to rest his forehead against yours. His golden eyes bore into yours and you can see the happiness swimming there.

You can also feel it against your stomach.

“Hey,” he answers just as softly. “I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few hours,” you remind him, but your chest flutters a little because you missed him too. You’d allowed Azriel to walk you home after your last class of the day but had drawn the line at the door that he pressed you up against, using that wicked mouth of his to try and convince you to let him inside. After a thorough minute of persuasion, he’d backed off, leaving you with a cheeky wink and both your mind and your cunt screaming at you to call him back.

“Yeah but dealing with Cassian feels like a lifetime has gone by sometimes,” he jokes, following you eagerly as you lead him through your apartment towards your room. It hits you then that he hasn’t properly been inside of your apartment before, only having seen it when he walked in on accident, but there will be time for a tour later, right now you want him in your room. Preferably on your bed.

“What was he doing this time?” you squeal when he pinches your ass and you glare at him over your shoulder.

“Sorry, princess, I couldn’t resist,” Azriel grins and you can’t help but smile with him. When the corners of his mouth pull high there’s a crinkle around his glowing golden eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. He looks younger, sweeter with that smile on his face. Azriel is a handsome man. “He was trying to get me to join in on the party. Think he was trying to rally some girls to play flip cup or something.”

Azriel frowns when he steps into your room, not because he notices that the head of your bed nearly perfectly aligns with where his is pushed up against the wall you share, but because of the loud music humming through said wall. He knows it must be even louder when he’s the one blasting tunes at all hours of the night, but he hadn’t realized just how thin the walls were.

“Sounds a lot more entertaining than art history,” you grumble a little, slumping back into your chair at your desk. Your body warms as Azriel comes to stand behind you, planting a hand on the surface and resting his chin on your head as he leans over to look at your textbook.

“Ancient Rome,” he comments, and you can feel the delicious rumble of his full-toned voice. It makes you shiver in your seat, and you wonder if he notices you tensing, trying to stifle your reaction to his single word. “It’s not that hard, princess.”

“Of course you would be good at it,” you groan, slumping back in your seat. It causes Azriel to slip away, planting himself firmly on the edge of your desk. “You’re good at everything.” His golden eyes twinkle as he preens. You narrow your eyes at his smirk. “Oh, shut up.”

“Didn’t even say anything, princess,” he muses. “If I help you out with art history, will you be good for me, too?”

You can’t help the rush of arousal spilling into your veins like adrenaline. The way he’s staring down at you through lowered lids, smirk turned into a face more serious, it’s a taunt as much as it is an offer.

“You wish,” you murmur back. There’s no heat to your response because it’s all collected between your thighs that you’re pressing firmly together.

“I do,” Azriel responds, gaze fiery.

And, well, those catacombs will still be there tomorrow.

You allow Azriel to pull you up from your chair and into his chest. His hands find your hips while you wrap yours around his neck, amiring one another. It’s a soft moment backed by the buzzing bass of Cassian’s party but you couldn’t be happier right now, with Azriel holding you in his arms.

You trail your fingers down his chest and he watches you, bright eyes never leaving yours as you swiftly slide them under the hem of his shirt. You can feel his cock hardening in his pants as you slide across his abdomen, reveling in the smooth skin of his chest, fingers dancing over the ridges of muscle.

His grip tightens on your hips but you urge him with a soft tug to take the shirt off. Reluctantly, Azriel removes his hands from you only long enough to rip the shirt over his shoulders and then they’re back, pulling you closer than before.

You trace the line of his jaw and he allows you to drink in your fill of him because you’re looking at him like you’ve just found your inspiration for your next project, and he likes that raw look in your eyes, likes being the one you’re solely focused on.

Moving downwards, you follow the line of his collarbones, fingering at the whorling ink there, like shadows of the night. They expand up across his broad shoulders and Azriel shivers when you lean in and flick your tongue against them, as if you can somehow taste their night-chilled forms.

Azriel’s breath hitches in his throat as you take your time inspecting each and every single one of his tattoos. The way you’re looking at him, the way you’re touching him makes him harder than a rock, and his cock strains painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He won’t move until you’re done, though, he won’t dare to break your concentration.

Wrapped up in the black of his shadows are two cupids, bows fully loaded and ready to launch their arrows. On his arm, the tattoo of the female warrior you’d noticed at lunch when you were secretly admiring it, trying to figure out who it was.

“Who is this?” you ask softly, and his answer is just as quiet, not wanting to shatter the trance you both seem to be stuck in.

“Nemesis. The goddess of vengeance,” Azriel explains, and your eyes are soft with grief when they flick upwards to meet his. He’s smiling softly at you though, and tenderly tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. He nods his head towards his other arm, showing you the other scrawled across that bicep. “This is Eleos, goddess of forgiveness.”

You can’t help the urge to surge forward and kiss him. His tattoos serve as reminders of a life he once lived, one filled with rage and hurt, the yearning to harm his step-brothers a forceful one. As time went on and his hands healed, he’d gotten that tattoo of Eleos, not because he was forgiving any of his family for how he’d been treated, but a year later when he was learning how to forgive himself for the time spent hating what had been done to his hands.

And with those hands, Azriel lifts you into his arms. He’s kissing you just as passionately as you’re kissing him because without even an explanation, you seem to understand the artwork poked into his skin.

He places you on the bed and follows you up onto it but you’re not done with your exploration yet. With little coaxing, you find yourself straddling Azriel, pulling away from a dizzying kiss and resuming your pandering of his body.

An image of a winged man falling from the sky on the side of his ribcage, and two wings defining the hard muscle leading to the tent in his pants that makes your mouth water. These wings are feathered, unlike the membranous bat-like ones painted large across his back. Each and everyone is more captivating than the last, and as your fingers hover around the waistband of his pants, you lean forward and lick a long stripe over those wings.

“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hips jolting at the movement. His hands smooth your hair from your face where it’s falling with the angle and all of a sudden you want to feel those hands fisting around your hair, guiding your head while your mouth is full of his cock. “Princess,” Azriel warns, but the sound is choked, “I thought you were studying.”

“I am,” you answer, unbuttoning his pants. Azriel’s not doing a lot to help you focus on that work though, and you won’t be able to focus until you’ve tasted him, felt him like the piece of artwork he is. “I’m cashing in on my reward early.”

He hums, helping you rid him of his pants and briefs. His cock sticks out and it’s one of the best looking cocks you’ve seen in your life. It’s pink and leaking at the tip, ready for you to wrap your lips around.

“You don’t have to—” Azriel’s words dispel into a rough moan when you take him into your hand and lick his slit. The taste of him explodes on your tongue, just as heady and delightful as the rest of him is. You know that you don’t have to, but with a tug of your hand up his shaft while you suck the head of his cock into your mouth his fingers tighten in your hair and you want this, you really really want this.

Swirling your tongue teasingly around the head of his cock, you jerk and twist the length of him. On reflex, Azriel tries to shove you further down on his cock and you allow it, moaning around his length when he hits the back of your throat.

You take him as far as you can, reveling in the noises he makes in response to your movements. When you suction your cheeks in, lathing your tongue wet and wild across his silky cock, when you use your grip on his base to jerk him off when you need to come up from air. You keep the crown of his cock in your mouth because he seems to love the warmth of your breath as you pant around him.

“Princess,” he hisses when you twist your hand, “Fuck, baby, need you to stop or I’m gonna cum.”

Gods, do you want that. Before you can eagerly continue your ministrations, Azriel is easing you away from his cock, his hands tearing at your clothing. You’re distracted by the way his hands slide under the fabric of your shirt, and you’re trying to relieve yourself of your clothing so you can feel more of those hands on your bare skin.

“Come here, gorgeous,” Azriel pants, pressing your naked body flush against his. You slant your mouth over his as you grind against him, your clit throbbing with need.

“Condom,” you breathe between kisses. His hands smooth from your hips up your back and down again, guiding your hips to drag your cunt against his shaft.

“Pocket,” Azriel answers, unable to tear his mouth from yours. You strain over the side of the bed but are able to retrieve the condom with ease. You don’t even take the time to scoff at him for stuffing there out of convenience before he came over, because he clearly knew where the night was going to end up.

You tear off the corner of the foil and roll it down his hot cock. Azriel’s golden eyes are hot on your body as he pulls you closer to him for another kiss. He’s addicted to your taste on his lips, the feeling of your body pressed against his.

And you’re addicted to him just as much. The way he caresses every inch of your skin like you’re the finest piece of art he’s finally able to touch. The words that roll so effortlessly off of that wicked tongue of his, good for more than taunting you.

“When is ‘yet?’” you ask, kissing across his chest.

Azriel blinks, looking down at you with the cutest furrow of his dark brows. “What?”

You huff laugh at his confusion but are unable to keep your wet pussy from sliding across his heavy cock. The movement causes the both of you to moan and you melt a little against the warmth of his chest.

“You told Rita that I’m not your girlfriend yet,” you explain, finding the strength to continue your path down his body. You lap over one of his nipples and enjoy the way Azriel’s muscles flex. “So, when is ‘yet?’”

Azriel’s fingers find your chin, stopping you from biting between his pectorals like you want. He looks just as devastated by that thought as you are. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you? We haven’t even had our first date yet,” he teases and you fail to bite back your grin.

Your first date is tomorrow, and you have no idea what he has planned. You’re pretty sure that there’s no way that he’s going to be able to beat your first kiss at the museum, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Azriel, it’s that he’s full of surprises.

“We shared a milkshake,” you pout, squirming as he pokes at your sides. You enjoy the way that his chest shakes with laughter.

“And that counts as a date?” he questions, quirking a brow. You settle against him, even though your cunt is screaming at you to shift a little lower and sit on his cock. Azriel strokes soothing lines up your body, enjoying the feel of your smooth skin beneath his marred fingertips.

You shrug, “If you want it to.”

He puffs out a laugh. “You’re low maintenance.”

“For now,” you grin, poking his nose. “But that wasn’t an answer, Azriel.”

He can’t help himself, craning forward to kiss you. You draw him in like a magnet, and he’s never felt this raw need to be around someone before. When he first met you, he’d thought it a coincidence, how you kept running into each other, how he wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you.

Now, he knows it’s much more than that.

“And is this answer imperative to how the rest of the night goes?” He asks, rubbing his cock in a long stroke across your wet cunt.

You gasp, bucking back against him, but you want your answer, first.

“I mean, I can go next door and—”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence, princess,” Azriel growls, grabbing your hips to roll you over. You squeak at the swift movement and suddenly you’re pressed into the mattress with Azriel’s looming form towering over you. His gold eyes are sharp with possessiveness. It makes you tingle. “You’re all fucking mine.”

He follows his words by nestling the head of his cock between your folds. You squirm, trying to get him to press further into you but Azriel holds steady, even through your teasing.

“If I’ll have you, you mean,” your chest heaves with anticipation, your fingernails already digging into his skin. You want him inside of you right fucking now, and you’re regetting taunting him already. “Which means you’d have to ask me, though. See if I even want you back.”

“Oh, but I know you do, princess,” Azriel’s voice takes on the low edge that makes you want to scream. His cock inches further into your needy cunt and he nips the shell of your ear. “I know you want this all to yourself.”

Your keen betrays your words. “S’not that special,” you slur blissfully. You already feel so full with the head of his cock teasing that bundle of nerves that had your stomach coiling already.

The feeling of your nails ripping at his skin tells Azriel differently.

He hums like he believes you, knuckles brushing torturously down the center of your body to play with your throbbing clit. His chest constricts with the way that your cunt strangles his cock and he takes a deep breath so he doesn’t come only from this; your stubbornness and the way that you’re wriggling on his cock.

“How about I show you how special my cock is, and then I ask you to be my girlfriend?” He proposes.

“How about you ask me to be your girlfriend and then you show me how not special your cock is,” you counter, but you’ll do just about anything to have him pressing in all of the way.

“Fine,” Azriel relents. “But if I make you orgasm more than three times, you can’t call my cock ‘not special’ ever again. You have to refer to it as the most special cock you’ve ever had the pleasure of cumming on. Oh, and that it’s pretty too.” And fuck, it really is pretty like this, tucked into your tight heat.

“Kind of a mouthful, don’t you think?” you ask, whining as he pulls completely out of you to rub himself down the length of your cunt. That glowing look in his eyes makes you glare, but it’s shortlisted when he nudges himself back inside of you again.

“More than a mouthful, princess, as you well know,” Azriel smirks, and you pinch his side. It does little to deter him, though. “You want it? You’re going to have to agree to my terms.”

“Did you want a blood oath or…” he threatens to remove his cock again and you scramble, clawing at his hips to keep him inside of you. “Fine! Fine.”

Azriel leans down and the way that his cock plunges a centimeter further into your aching cunt has you gasping, moaning against his mouth. You want to bite that smirk right off of his lips but he tastes too good, and his tongue is swirling against yours, making you forget. “Was going to ask you to be my girlfriend anyway, princess, even if you hadn’t agreed.”

You shift your hips and it works to guide him a little further inside but it’s not enough. You feel hot, like you’re going to explode if he doesn’t start moving soon. You need to feel his entire length stretching you out, shoving the air from your lungs and taking you like he’s no longer in control of his body.

“Well, bully for you, Azriel.” You dig your nails into the meat of his back. “I’ll take some of the most special cock I’ve ever had the pleasure of cumming on,” you grit. “Though that is yet to be determined.”

Your taunt does nothing to irk him into moving, though. Instead, he’s smirking down at you again. “You forgot pretty, princess. It’s pretty too, isn’t it?”

“Come on then, pretty,” you groan, on the verge of screaming.

“I don’t think so, I haven’t held up my part of the bargain yet.” The words are followed by him pressing himself the rest of the way inside of you, enjoying the way the tension leaves your body and has you melting for him. You want him to start moving, need him to start moving, but Azriel’s gone all serious all of a sudden, peppering you with kisses until you can focus on him once more. “Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” you cry out, feeling so full your heart could burst. You drag Azriel in for a kiss that’s hot and desperate and a little sloppy. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend, Az. Now, please move, baby, I need your cock.”

His gaze goes molten at the pet name the way you’re begging for him. He pulls his hips back and presses them forward again, finally giving you the friction you’ve both been desperately craving.

“Of course, princess. Let’s give you what you need.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

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1eoness · 11 months

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professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)

cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 19-20 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon:( ♡

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.

synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."

especially you.

kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)

he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?

it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.

so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.

"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)

yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?

you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.

so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?

"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(

much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.

you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.

he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!

but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.

"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"

"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.

"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."

naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.

once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.

it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.

a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)

..but blue was his favorite color.

"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.

...

leon sighed.

he wasn't celibate.

his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.

manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.

"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"

his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.

until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.

he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..

he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..

your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.

"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.

he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.

"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ♡.

"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.

he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.

"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.

"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...

you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.

leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"

he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.

"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.

he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.

seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!

#leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #guys im sorry if my writing is pretty vague idfk lmao #re4remake leon smut #THIS IS SO BAD AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut

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kazumiwrites-fanfiction · 8 months

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Not-So-Secret Drawings

REQUEST: Hi there, so I've been daydreaming about this for awhile but I absolutely suck at writing so, could i request hcs were the reader is really good at drawing and has been secretly drawing random people on campus whenever they get the chance, but one day reader forgets there sketch pad somewhere and a character (of your choosing) finds it and decides to snoop and finds drawingsof them and people on campus. Just as they finish looking through reader comes (after realizing they forgot it). I hope this makes sense to you, have a nice day/night.

SUMMARY: Your carefully hidden secret is out now. WORD COUNT: 1k

WARNINGS: Riddle, Azul, Floyd, and Vil snooping looking through your drawings, reader is a really good artist, Riddle threatens you (out of love I swear), Azul is uncomfortable by your drawings (not in a bad way- I think), mentions of getting lectured by Azul, Floyd is a ball of chaos, Vil gets no warnings because he's perfect/j A/N: When I tell you that as soon as I saw this I immediately rushed to write two parts before having to stop because I needed to do my summer homework - and then procrastinated the last part (Vil)- Also I know you implied one character but since I'm indecisive I did multiple haha (I'm sorry (but also kind of not because this was fun)) I'm sure you don't suck at writing!! You just get sick of your own writing because it all seems predictable (speaking from experience, I read my work and I'm like "ew?? I need better words" haha) Vil's part is definitely weird because I was like "Fashion Designer!Reader" (probably because some of my friends take fashion/design classes) and I don't know how accurate this is I suck at drawing so I know nothing please don't come at me- Also on a side note, I have a lot of requests right now and since I have a lot of schoolwork I have to do right now, my writing will probably be scattered. Hope you guys understand! (Hope you have a nice day/afternoon/night/etc too!!)

You had always been careful with your drawings. You never wanted another person to look at them. After all, you had been drawing other people - and who knew what they would think?

Sure, they were pretty accurate, but still. It wasn't like the people at Night Raven College knew that you were drawing them. And you didn't want your drawings to get destroyed just because someone in a foul mood found them. Just your luck though, as you had left your sketchbook somewhere. Where did you even misplace it…

Riddle Rosehearts

He had always seen you with your sketchbook, but had assumed it was just for studying.

Likewise, when it popped up during class, he assumed that you were diligently taking notes.

It was almost sad seeing how far from the truth he was in hindsight.

Since he found your sketchbook on the floor (perhaps having fallen from your bag - it was always full, after all), he decided to take it to you. On the way over to Ramshackle Dorm, he flipped through the sketchbook before he paused.

These weren't notes. They were drawings.

And very good ones, at that.

They were so detailed, he thought for an instant that you had magicked them on here somehow (before remembering that you didn't have any magic).

So was this what you could do with some time and diligence?

His mother had never let him draw much so his drawings were mediocore at best (at worst, one would think that a small child had drawn them).

He found himself captivated by the artwork, flipping through the pages, seeing the drawings of various people from the school. Even some of himself…? With more details... It was odd, the small flutter in his chest. Happiness?

He jolted as he heard your voice, asking if that sketchbook in his hands was yours, abruptly slamming the sketchbook shut as if he had been looking at something completely inappropriate. Which, in a way, he might have been?

"Sorry for looking at these without your permission." He got out after a moment, handing it back to you. "You're a really good artist." He paused. "But you shouldn't be drawing in class. If I catch you with this sketchbook out during Trein-sensei's lectures, I'll have your head!"

Azul Ashengrotto

Of course Azul had noticed your drawings. He needed to in order to make sure he knew as much as possible about others so he could scam help them whenever they needed it.

Still, he found it intriguing, so he couldn't help but skim through your drawings. And my, were they amazing.

Until he got to the section where you had drawn him.

Sure, there were drawings of him in regular uniform, some of him in his P.E. uniform (he thought that they weren't really flattering on him, but you made it look good).

But then there were the sections where you had drawn him in mer form.

Of course, you had no idea what his mer form actually looked like (without all the overblotting, which you never got the chance to see clearly anyway) so it was mostly guesswork and using your imagination.

There were ones with long, large tentacles swarming around him.

Some with tentacles that were slender.

Some of them popped out of weird angles, which he was puzzled about, but okay.

My tentacles can't move like that - or can they?

They definitely shouldn't be popping out of his ribs. Wherever did you get that particular idea? It made him uncomfortable just by looking at it.

He was so caught up in examining your drawings and he didn't notice you until you literally snatched the sketchbook from his hands, saying something about how they were private.

"Sorry, [Y/N]-san... But these drawings aren't too accurate, you know."

And that was how you got roped into a three-hour long discussion about the anatomy of octopuses as well as the anatomy of merfolk and how your drawings were terribly inaccurate. (You were just guessing, how were you supposed to know any of this?)

Floyd Leech

Floyd wouldn't even wait until the sketchbook was unattended.

He'd pop out of nowhere, eyes bright, asking what you were doing.

Never mind if it was in the middle of class or not.

You've both gotten scolded about this, he should know better.

Still, one day he caught you by surprise, and the book slipped from your hands.

You muttered a small curse before trying to grab it, but whoops, too late. Floyd had already gotten it and was flipping through the pages.

"Aww, Koebi-chan, you drew me?" His gaze met yours, a wide grin on his face (showing his extremely sharp teeth). "You should've just asked, I would've modeled and stuff for you."

You shook your head slightly. You had wanted to keep this a secret if possible... At least Floyd seemed to be in a fairly good mood. You told him that you wanted to draw people in their natural state, without them posing for the "camera," so to speak.

He looked disappointed, but then immediately asked if you could come to a basketball practice or match or something. Perhaps you'd find it more interesting to draw him there. Or maybe in the ocean?

Vil Schoenheit

He was no stranger to people drawing him. He was famous after all.

He did sometimes get… odd pieces of artwork, but that was to be expected.

Still, he didn't expect to find a sketchbook with him in it, abandoned at an empty seat. Only drawings of him.

It had so happened that you were trying to figure out a good design for clothing. You always wanted to have a face to your designs, and he was the perfect subject.

Maybe your drawings didn't do him justice, but it was interesting to see how you could tweak your designs to fit him better.

Still, Vil was plenty impressed.

These designs... He could definitely see himself wearing them.

Maybe he could show them to one of the people he knew... They could help make something like that. With your permission, of course.

He closed the book as he heard you come up.

"These designs really are fascinating. Would you mind showing me more details? I'm certain that we can turn these drawings into reality if you'd like it."

As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ♡ Send your thoughts grr

Feel free to send requests! Check out this post for info ^^

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five-rivers · 20 days

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Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 4

Phic Phight Phic! @greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“Ughh,” said Danny, falling onto Clockwork’s couch.

Yes. Danny. Despite Jazz lying to him a lot, the name had grown on him. She wasn’t bad. Just. Bad at lying. And sort of… constantly suspicious. And definitely not his mother. He was pretty sure she cared about him. No one who didn’t care about him would push schoolwork that hard.

Unless she’d been trying to harvest his brain.

Yeah, he’d sort of decided that wasn’t what was going on by the end of the second day. It was still kind of fun to say. Jazz’s face had made some very funny movements when he brought it up. It was kind of… endearing. Yeah.

“Hello, Daniel,” said Clockwork. “I take it you had a good time with Miss Jasmine.”

“It was… A time. I think she did know me before. She had a lot of funny stories from when I was a kid. And she had a really nice bedroom for me. They do their own decorating, right?”

“They acquired and furnished the homes you will be staying in from their own resources, but they may have hired decorators.”

“Okay. She had very strong opinions about schoolwork.”

“You will find that many of your potential guardians have strong feelings regarding your education.”

“Great,” said Danny. He rubbed his face. “Now what? Do I just jump right into the next one, or do I get, like, a grace period or something?”

“You can take as long to recover from your experience as you’d like.” He sounded amused. “You don’t need to push yourself.”

“Mhm,” said Danny. He stared up at the ceiling. “Can I see the list again?”

Clockwork set the folder gently down on his lap.

“Thanks,” said Danny, opening the folder. “I was thinking about going to the other extreme this time around. The oldest. Which page are they?”

“Green,” said Clockwork.

Danny looked up. Clockwork’s tone had seemed… off. But his expression wasn’t any different. What Danny could see of it, anyway. He’d turned slightly away, so he only saw the edge of his face.

He looked back at the manilla folder and the green piece of paper.

“So,” he said, “ do you know this… Oculus and Orbis? Those are kind of weird names. Maybe not too weird for ghosts, though. Oculus and Orbis. Eye… and also eye. Wow. Wonder if I’m going from someone who wants to steal my brains to someone who wants to steal my eyes.”

“They won’t try to steal your eyes.”

That sounded unconvincing in the extreme.

“Are you sure?”

“Relatively so.” That actually sounded rather threatening. Danny gave him another look, but, again, he seemed fine. Mostly fine.

“So… Married couple. That’s different. Maybe they’ll be more like grandparents? Interests… Coloring. I guess they mean, like, adult coloring books? That’s pretty cool, I didn’t mind drawing at Jazz’s. Watching… I think they must have left something off here, it just says watching. Watching… Sunsets? TV? Movies?”

“You will have to wait and see,” said Clockwork as he adjusted a painting on the wall. It was of something generic and pastoral, but it was nice.

“And… ew. Astrology. Do they really like astrology?”

“I can only refer you back to the information sheet.”

“Okay,” said Danny. “Fortune telling isn’t real, right?”

“It depends on your point of view.”

“You can time travel, right?”

“That is within my powerset, yes.”

“Huh,” said Danny. “So, you could see the future.”

“I could,” said Clockwork. “To some degree.”

“So, you already know who I will pick.”

“Not exactly,” said Clockwork. “Time follows a somewhat more complicated path than that of an arrow.”

“An arrow’s path doesn’t have to be simple, anyway. It bends, because of gravity. Unless you’re in space.”

“Indeed. Have you eaten dinner?”

“Not yet,” said Danny. “But shouldn’t you already know that?”

“It is polite to ask.”

Danny laid awake in bed. He missed the stars in the bedroom he had at Jazz’s. The blankets were comfier here, though. And there were more pillows. Tradeoffs. He still hadn’t asked Clockwork if he’d done his own decorating.

Yeah. It wasn’t at all bad here. But he wondered if he had, maybe, acted too quickly with leaving Jazz.

It was a little too late to doubt his decision, though. He couldn't undo it. Not without Clockwork cooperating. He didn't really want to undo it, anyway. There were all the other people to visit and figure out and whatever.

Hopefully, by the end, he'd be able to figure out enough to understand himself.

He held his hand up over his head, fingers splayed, and tried to reach for the spark of transformation that Jazz swore up and down existed. Nothing happened.

He sighed and rolled over in bed. He'd think about it in the morning. Or never. Never sounded good.

Danny bounced down the stairs two at a time. “Breakfast?” he asked, hopefully.

“Potatoes o'brien with gravy and eggs,” said Clockwork. “I must confess, I’m surprised you aren’t flying down the stairs.”

“Haven’t really figured it out properly yet,” said Danny, throwing himself into a chair. “I kept trying at Jazz’s, but I kept running into the walls and ceiling and stuff. And where would I fly to, anyway?”

“I see,” said Clockwork, sounding vaguely amused.

“Not what you expected of me, huh?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, that’s just what happens when you erase someone’s memory and throw them into weird situations with redheads that are a little too obsessed with brain surgery.”

Clockwork’s answering hum was definitely amused.

“Would you like juice with your breakfast?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?” asked Danny. “With whipped cream?”

“I do,” said Clockwork. “Would you like some?”

“Please.”

Clockwork pulled an enameled teakettle from one of the cabinets and set it on the stovetop. The enamel was purple, of course.

“Are you still set on visiting Oculus and Orbis next?”

“I mean, I’d have to visit them eventually, anyway, right? That’s the rule, isn’t it?”

“Technically speaking, no. If you feel a strong enough connection with one of the candidates, you can forgo meeting the rest of them.”

“Wow,” said Danny. “You really don’t like them.”

“I do not want my feelings to influence you.”

“That’s not a denial.”

Clockwork set the plate down in front of Danny. “I do not want my feelings to influence you, negative or positive.”

“Sure,” said Danny. He started to shove food in his mouth. “So, Jazz told me something weird when I was over there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Something about me being half ghost.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Yes? Yes? You mean that’s a real thing?”

“To some degree, yes,” said Clockwork.

“What does that mean?”

“You have a variety of extremely rare abilities,” said Clockwork. “Whether those are the results of being half ghost, part human, a superb but singular transformation ability, or something else… That is a matter for debate.”

“Okay, so, transformation. How?”

“Alas, for all that I can see, I cannot see into your mind. I do not know how your transformations felt to you, nor how you accomplished them.”

“Oh,” said Danny, pushing around a stray piece of egg on his plate. That was unhelpful, but he supposed it made sense. “There’s not anything going on like, um, you’re keeping me from transforming on purpose? Like how you said you’ve changed my appearance.”

“No,” said Clockwork.

“Okay,” said Danny. He scraped together the last of the potatoes. “I’m going to go get ready before I go. I’m still going to Oculus and Orbis.”

“Mm,” said Clockwork.

Yeah, Danny could definitely tell Clockwork didn’t like those two. This would probably be short, compared to his stay with Jazz. He went upstairs and brushed his teeth before changing. Jazz had gotten on his case about that more than once.

What to wear today… hm… He flipped through his closet. Hm. How about the skirt… It was a nice silvery green. And what to go on top? That jacket was about the same length as the shirt. And, hm, he didn’t feel like going pants-less… Or stockings. Maybe capris? He could do capris. Those were cool. Then he could show off the socks Jazz had given him.

Were those here? He looked through the sock drawer. They were. Huh.

He really wished Jazz had been honest with him. He really did. And maybe a little bit less crazy about school. Because he was absolutely sure that what she’d had him doing was over and above what schools would do.

He pulled on his solar system socks.

Okay. He was ready.

He went downstairs. “I’m ready.”

“I see that,” said Clockwork. “Your socks are very nice.”

“Oh, thanks!”

Clockwork tilted his staff to the side and a portal formed. “As before, press the button when you are ready to return.”

Danny nodded and stepped through. Once the blue rush of the portal cleared from his ears and eyes, he found himself in a massive marble foyer. Circular decorations in black and gold were inset in the stone. Waiting in the center, holding on to each other’s elbows, were the strangest couple Danny had ever seen.

Well, they were the only couple Danny had ever seen. They were tall, robed in rich fabrics trimmed in gold and black. Their skin was a textured, vivid green, and they were totally bald. Well. They were wearing wigs, but they were very obviously wigs. One wig was blonde and long, the other was silver and short. Both of them covered their eyes. One was also wearing a long skirt and delicate jewelry. The other wore bulky jewelry, gloves, and some sort of black sheath over its tail.

“Phantom,” they said, simultaneously, spreading their arms wide.

“My dear,” said the one in the skirt in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, “it is so good to see you again.”

“You haven’t had any problems with the riff-raff harassing us with this ludicrous custody dispute, have you, son?” asked the other, in a surprisingly low-pitched voice.

“No?” said Danny, dodging a hug. “I haven’t had any trouble.”

“Excellent news! But now you’re back with us,” said the deep-voiced and vaguely masculine one. “So you don’t need to worry about it anymore. All our worries are over. From now on, we have all our days ahead of us, full of joy and light!”

Danny… was pretty sure that last sentence didn’t make sense.

“Yes, yes,” said the higher-pitched one. “We will care for you now and forever. Your days will be filled with the luxury you so richly deserve.”

“Luxury, huh?”

“Of course, love,” said the high-pitched one. “Luxury, beyond the dreams of the masses. Not your dreams, of course.”

“Um,” said Danny.

“The best foods, the best clothes, the best games– Everything those other fools would deny you!”

Danny had the distinct sense he was being bribed.

“Okay,” he said, “but, um, what are your names?”

They looked at each other. “I am Oculus,” said the low-pitched one.

“I am Orbis,” said the high-pitched one.

“Right,” said Danny. “And who is Phantom? Is that some kind of ghost pet name?”

“It is your name,” said Orbis.

“Oh,” said Danny.

“Did Clockwork not tell you?”

“He told me my name is Daniel.”

“Hm,” said Orbis.

“Hm,” said Oculus. “Be that as it may, your name is most certainly Phantom. You have no other.”

Yeah. Danny wasn’t buying that.

“Okay,” he said, out loud. “So, um, how do I know you guys?”

“Well,” said Orbis, sniffing slightly, “we rescued you from those awful ghost hunters, didn’t we? They treated you so terribly, we couldn’t help but intervene, and then, well, we fell in love with you. Who couldn’t?” They started laughing. The laughter went on for… a while.

Danny smiled tightly and nodded.

“But enough of that!” said Oculus. “We must give you the grand tour! Show you all the things that are now, and will forever be, yours!”

What followed was a lengthy hike through an absolutely enormous, almost castle-like mansion. There was so much stuff. So many things. Toys, furniture, games, computers, decorations, flowers, perfumes, food. It was dizzying.

“And,” said Oculus, gesturing grandly at a set of rooms larger than Jazz’s entire place, “these are your rooms! There’s an ensuite - with a pool of course - and your favorite video games, and we can’t forget your mini-kitchen, completely stocked–”

Danny sort of tuned them out as they went down the list of things in the rooms, eyes sliding over various accouterments and accommodations. It was all very nice. But it was also, somehow, empty.

Well, the stuff was cool. He didn’t understand what was going on with the people, but… He could stay here a few days.

Danny wandered the frankly enormous house, looking for his supposed guardians. He was pretty sure it was in the middle of afternoon, and he had yet to see them. This, he thought, was not conducive to actually getting to know them.

So, he was searching as methodically as he could, given the nonsensical layout. There was a swimming pool in the middle of a ring of kitchens, for goodness sake. There was a library in the basement.

But finally, he did it.

“Uh,” said Danny. He was pretty sure this one was Orbis. Long haired wig, light jewelry. Yep. “Orbis?”

They didn’t turn around.

“Orbis?” he repeated. He came close me. “Excuse me? Orbis?” He tapped their shoulder. They jumped about a foot.

“Goodness, child! Why didn’t you say something if you wanted my attention.”

“I… did,” said Danny. “Are you not Orbis?”

“I,” said the ghost. “Yes.”

The other ghost glided into the room. “Did I hear someone calling me?” they asked. They were dressed identically to the first.

Danny looked between the two of them as they started gesturing emphatically at each other. He knew that ghosts could be weird, and there were a number of different lifestyles that could result in… whatever this was… but he sort of didn’t think that was what was going on. Actually, he didn’t– Were these ghosts shorter than they were yesterday? He hadn’t been paying all that much attention to their dimensions…

The gesture battle they were having, as if they thought he couldn’t see them, was definitely suspicious. Was there a ghost version of sign language?

Yeah, this was escalating. He edged closer to the arguing ghosts. He was about to do something that could be considered socially crass, but…

His hand flashed out and grabbed the wig of the nearest ghost. He pulled it loose.

Without the wig, the ghost was completely bald. They were also obviously one-eyed. They turned to stare at him, that one, huge, eye wide and alarmed.

Now, Danny didn’t remember all that much, but he knew who the Observants were.

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing the pocketwatch. “I’m out.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #fic

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 1 year

Text

Harry Potter’s Twin

Pairings: Harry Potter x twin!reader

Requested by: @insomniacwreck Could you do like Harry x twin! Reader? Like how he’d act, at the Dursley’s and Hogwarts maybe?

Warnings: idk, child neglect? the Dursley family treatment of Harry, the word murder is like once or twice other than that idk, not proofread

A/N sorry for not posting anything in a while, but I had to take a pause bc ✨depression✨, it just hit extra hard this time, but hey at least a bit of my creativity is back, but I’ve mostly been drawing, anyway here’s a headcanon bc why not

Did I know what I was writing half of the time, no the answer is no

I see a lot of fics where Harry and his twin sleeps together under the staircase, but if I’m honest I don’t think two people would fit to sleep there, even if they are small, so I’d say the Dursley’s would give the smallest room, that could be used as a actual room to the potter twins. Of course there’s be minimal decoration, two small beds that used to be Dudley’s, along with an really old wardrobe and nightstand, probably a really small desk if they could fit it, just so that they could actually do schoolwork (thank Petunia)

Both Harry and his twin would do most of the chores, except the few times Petunia does them, washing, making breakfast, dishing, cleaning, you get what I mean

Beating each others only friend growing up, until you started hogwarts that is

I’d think as you are both each other only way of affection you’d probably have a habit of falling asleep in each others beds cuddled up together

As cliché as it might be I do love the fics where the twin is like a replica of James (in looks and personality) and as Harry has his mother’s eyes his twin has his fathers eyes, but I wanted to say was every family needs a rebel, and if the twin acts like James they sure as hell would be classified as a rebel in the Dursley household

Getting in a lot of trouble, like a lot (some by accident some not by accident)

“Stealing” things from Dudley making him question his sanity as he knew he put it down just moments before (he usually blames you though)

Standing up for eachother whenever you get scolded or yelled at

“Stealing” food at night when you weren’t allowed any

Thinking you were both crazy the first time you both used magic by accident

Sharing clothes is a pain but you make it work

Being each others happiness, especially on your birthday as you smile at each other and say “happy birthday Harry” “Happy birthday Y/N” at the same time

Having twin powers, you know finishing each other sentences, knowing when something bad happens to the other, knowing what you’re both thinking (I swear twin powers are somewhat real, I’m a triplet and we have the same power)

Grabbing a letter from the floor instead of the one’s flying (I had to okay, Harry was really dumb that time)

Laughing hysterically when Harry accidentally makes aunt marge into a ballon

Time for the fun part starting Hogwarts

You’d probably be attached to the hip at the beginning, while you’re wandering Diagon Alley with all the knew strange people, you both got your own owls btw, even when on the train you’d be right by each other trying to calm down your nervousness, and anxiety over starting a new school with magic in which you know nothing about, let’s not forget you are both famous for some unknown reason to the both of you

Neither of you cared what house you got in, hoping it was the same house but if it wasn’t you’d be fine with that to, maybe a bit hard to sleep the first night, bc you usually sleep next to each other or at least the same room, personally I would love for Harry’s twin to be a Hufflepuff I don’t know why I just love the idea

A few weeks into the first school year you’d separate a bit, getting friends of your own, but you’d probably be friends with Hermione and Ron too, you could always go to Hermione if you needed help with anything, as she could always go to you with anything, Ron if I’m honest don’t go to him with everything we all know how he is with Harry and the triwizard tournament. But hey anything food related, Ron is your guy.

Yes I do love it when Fred and George are your best friends, and if I’m honest I can see the two older twins taking you under their wing and teaching you all they know, you knew about the map two years before Harry did.

Friends: Fred and George like stated before, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Luna later on when you meet her we all gotta have that one friend (me I’m that friend), obviously Harry as he’s your twin, probably Cedric somehow, it would be fun if you were more friendly to Draco too, oh I gotta as Oliver Wood love that guy, If I’m honest I don’t remember the names of any Ravenclaw s but you’re probably friends with some of them too , as well as Slytherins, we do not follow stereotypes here

Teasing Ginny about her crush on Harry

Detentions

Snape “hating” you

Everyone looking at you like you lit the stars in the sky because you survived the killing curse

It would be fun if you were somewhat oblivious to Harry’s shenanigans being to occupied with your pranks with the Weasley twins. But Harry does fill you in on things so you aren’t completely in the dark, you just couldn’t care less if someone was out to murder you again

Loving Fluffy and Buckbeak because they’re adorable 🥰

Defeating Quirrell/Voldemort together in your first year

You’d probably be able to speak with snakes too though, and in your second year you did it to scare people of who thought you was the one who opened the chamber of secrets

Getting paralyzed with Hermione by the basilisk

Fast forward to Sirius escaping, I’m going with Sirius being Harry’s godfather, and Remus being your godfather, because I cannot leave Remus out my boy doesn’t deserve that

Remus tells you a lot of stories about your parents

Remus doesn’t even want to know how many detentions you’ve gotten by know nor how many times you’ve been in the hospital wing

Getting Fred and George to try and find Sirius Black with you because you want answers and Draco might of let a few things slip when the two of you talked

You did not to your knowledge succeed in finding Sirius but you did find a dog who you brought food a lot of times

Remus and Sirius being proud of both you and Harry for being on the Quidditch team, two of the best players, you being chaser

Knowing Remus is a werewolf bc he told you, but you never told Harry because you wanted to have a secret with your godfather that Harry didn’t know, and if you’re ere honest you could never know how people would react to someone just casually saying “btw our teacher is a werewolf”

A lot of time is spent talking to Remus about your problems and everything else in your life the other time is spent with the Weasley twins

Not getting selected for the triwizard tournament but still somehow ending up at the graveyard with Harry and Cedric

Pranking umbridge a lot, did not end well for your hands, as they are littered with scars from the pen she made you use

I don’t want to cry today so we will just say that you saved Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Fred’s life so no tears today

Yeah that’s about it I think, a lot of chaos ensures after Dumbledore’s death, and eventually Voldemort is finally defeated and you live the rest of your life happily, probably becoming an Auror,

Bonus: would be fun if you published a book, “ the twins who lived” written by Y/N Potter, bestselling book and used in history of magic in the future when referencing to the events of the war with Voldemort

#x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #x you #harry potter x teen!reader #Harry Potter x reader #Harry Potter x twin!reader #harry potter x sister!reader #Harry Potter x sibling!reader #Harry Potter x brother!reader #Harry Potter x platonic!reader

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cupcakeshakesnake · 6 months

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You have m o r e ?!?!? Omg they're amazing, I love them already and it's only been like 90 seconds (I've just been staring at them because. Wow.)

Wait but are you actually getting rid of them/ discontinuing their story? I mean, I saw that post about Sisyphus, but I would love it if we got to see more of these guys. I mean, no pressure if you weren't but I just wanted to let you know that I'm a really big fan of your work. I appreciate that, for your nonhuman characters, while their designs are very visually appealing in the artistic sense, you can tell that they're not at all supposed to be attractive in any modern human idealized sort of way (and what does it mean to Objectively Attractive anyway? Popular opinion is so hypocritcally subjective) but instead that each individual drawing, whether it's a character of your own creation or your take on a preexisting one, is crafted to serve their exact purpose on the page (whether it's Humor of Incongruity, expressing frustration, evoking the beauty in the imperfect, etc.), because you can see both the soul of that being and the way the Otherness of their design sets them apart as new and interesting yet accentuates the uniquely human part of their character (however buried and twisted that part may be, in some cases. Looking at you, Valek.)

. . . I was going somewhere further with this but I lost where I was. I'm sorry, it's late and I'm tired, but I just saw this and felt I had to say something (other than "cool monsters go brrr"). I know we're just strangers on the internet, and I'm not any sort of people person. We don't know anything substantial about each other, and we'll probably never meet. But I hope you know that, for whatever it's worth, there are people out there who see what you're doing. And that it's beautiful in all of it's imperfection, and beautiful *because* of it. And that, miniscule though my knowledge of you may be (because who can truly know anyone?), I can *see* the beauty of your soul shining through the crack of your art. And that I get a little bit of joy and inspiration every time I come across your work, so I hope this clumsily, hasty little message can give at least some of that joy back to you.

(P.S. I wrote this as a AtNC reblog, but by the time I finished writing this I figured it'd probably be better to send as an ask, so that you can decide what to do with it. You are in no way obligated to make any sort of response to this. From what I understand, you don't believe in a benevolent higher power, and that's okay, I'm still on the fence about whether I do or not, but I just... felt oddly compelled to write this. Like something was telling me I had to try to convey this to you, because you needed it. It's fine if you don't understand what I'm saying, I'm not sure even I do, but just hope that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, whatever you are going through, you know there's someone out there who cares for you, and that your existence is w o r t h something immeasurable.)

I hope you're okay. You are stronger than you know.

First of all, thank you. It took me a while to reply because I've been very busy with schoolwork, but I've reread this message at least several times a day and it has brought me such joy each time.

To answer your question, no, I'm not discontinuing or getting rid of anything - I assume this has to do with my monster OCs, and there are two major stories of them so far.

One is Walter, which I simply decided not to use for schoolwork after being told its plot is too boring. That's all. I will do what I want with it in my own time. The other is that one with the mutated office workers, which fortunately got the OK from the professor. Both are still very rough works in progress.

I'm very glad that you like the way I draw... er, things, for lack of a better wording. Things I draw for myself may turn out far from "conventionally attractive", but I like it that way. You made me think about an aspect of my art that I never really considered before, but you have a point; in a way, I could be trying to humanize characters not by giving them a more human face but by giving them their own ways to express humanity.

That being said, I don't know what an "AtNC" reblog is supposed to be, but I wouldn't have minded either way. Your kind words are appreciated all the same.

#snake got an ask #anonymous #Regarding “humanizing”: One thing I like to do is make expressions and body languages out of inhuman features #It's fun

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batmanfruitloops · 4 months

Text

Finally finished Harley's backstory!

Also, please let me know if I need more trigger warning tags, I'm not sure I covered them all, but I'm drawing a blank,

Harleen couldn't remember a time when her parents had gotten along, nor was she old enough to remember when they divorced, but she did remember how different living with each of them was, and that she much preferred the time with her father.

Her mother treated Harleen well enough, but she was almost always out of the house partying or gambling, leaving Harleen to take care of herself if she was unable to on a given day. She woke herself up for school, made herself food, and sometimes if she was lucky, her mother wasn't too hungover to spend a little time with her.

Her father, on the other hand, treated Harleen like his most precious treasure, taking her out to the circus whenever he could and buying her ice cream after picking her up from school. He had Bipolar (I'm not too sure which one, I need to do more research) and depression for a long time, but he did his best not to let it affect Harleen. From about middle school, Harleen started to show similar traits as her father, as well as being tested for narcissism, but her father knew how to help, so Harleen was able to keep them in check.

It wasn't until his own health started to drastically decline when Harleen was graduating high school that things got hard. She had already balanced having a job with her schoolwork, but found herself looking for a better paying job, as her father could no longer work as well to help with rent. She managed all that while still preparing to get a degree to go in therapy, but it was starting to affect her. Worse, her father's attitude towards her started to change. Not only was he extremely depressed all the time, he would have bouts of extreme aggression or hysteria before becoming despondent, judgemental, and intensely suicidal. Harleen was terrified, especially since she couldn't stay home with him all the time. Not if she wanted to keep her job and finish her degree.

She took him to a lot of doctors to see if they could help, but their answers all lead to an unknown form of disease that seemed to latch unto the brain and affect pre-existing health issues. This devastated Harley, and she was honestly terrified too. The doctors had warned that it tended to run in the family, so there was a high chance this would happen to her too.

It was all too much, her brain was swimming, practically drowning her thought after thought, and she could hardly tread on. She continued to work, albeit her coworkers noticed the shift. She had exams coming up, ones that would determine if she got her degree or not, but she'd barely been able to study and so…she cheated. She'd never done so in her life. It hurt her pride, and her father would be so disappointed, but he didn't have to know. It was all for him anyway,

Harleen passed, and she was lucky to get a job as a Blackgate therapist. Her schedule made it possible to watch her father most of the time, and this eased her mind, although her father's treatment kept her morale low. After a few years, she was offered a new therapist position at Arkham that was better paying for less hours, and she gladly accepted.

This is where she became John's (Jokers) therapist. They shared an interest in circus’, but there wasn't much else they agreed on. Harleen was also very drained by her father at this point, and had taken a lot of what he said to heart, so despite not agreeing with everything she said, Harleen still repeated harsh, personal things to John. Something about his genuine, fragile nature bothered her. And much in the same way, Harleen reminded John of his mother in the worst aspects.

On one particularly exhausting day, Harleen found her father had hung himself while she was at work. Her heart sank. She almost didn't believe it, but it really was him. She barely allowed herself to mourn and continued to work, finding herself lashing out at John even more. She lost it, starting to beat him as he helplessly buckled.

Now Strange didn't usually care if his patients were treated poorly, he often engaged such behavior himself, but some higher ups were visiting to access the Asylum because of Attorney Dent and Mr. Wayne's concerns. So when they witnessed Harleen beating John, she had to be fired.

At this point, Harleen feels she has nothing left, and after a bout of depression she goes back out as Harley Quinn, tired of trying to fight all the emotions and pain tangled up inside her.

- Sarsee

#batmanfruitloops #anewgothamau #batman #dc #batman villains #batman rogues #gotham rogues #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #tw: suicide #tw: death #tw: abuse #batmanfruitloopslore #tw: neglect

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stacycpr · 1 year

Text

Important

So, I had this very disappointing matter.

As some of you guys know, I'm the creator of HugleTale (@hugletale-au). It's been created more than 2 years and also the first AU I worked on. Although, I didn't release much more of its story, unless if you have tried to read its fic version on Archive on Our Own and Wattpad.

Yesterday, that evening, (I don't open Discord much anymore other than to lurk around and chat a little or look a bit of my server.)

A member of my server, made an unauthorized revision my AU, HugleTale. Not only just the first chapter, but also the other ones, as I got the read their document file sent in my server. (Take a look at the screenshots at the cut below of this post).

So, what's the matter with this??

As an author/creator, it's really disrespectful and very offensive. It's not something anyone else can just do. NOT VERY TOLERABLE.

Revising someone's work especially without permission from the author, BUT STILL, even so, not all authors would like to revise their own work by somebody. It's ours, authors' responsible for this rather than anyone.

The EFFORTS, WORK, IDEAS, that were put into it can be just, idk, changed by somebody?

All just for no reason in particular because you had to do it?? You were lucky that I'm pathetic enough to cry rather to talk much farther about this. But, I won't let this slide by just forgetting it. It's not something I don't want to happen to others. This is beyond very inappropriate.

What makes it even worse, to assume that the revised version of my AU will be added to their book series. And to think that I won't even be bothered or even care about it??

What would you feel if this happens to you? Should I even feel welcomed for this??

HugleTale is very precious and special to me, my heart. I couldn't help myself to be very disappointed to this person.

As much that my friends tells me that there's more people that loves my AU, my works and the other things I do with drawing and creating...

Something like this, it proves that there's still need more improvement I must do. I'm still not good enough... Instead of being furious, I'm pretty much sad for real. Of course, I just cried like a weak I am.

I'm sorry to conclude it this way for my situation. Although, I still want all of you guys, especially to my other artists and writers that I'm friends/or not, to let you know.

If I'm not that pretty much focused with my schoolworks, I may have time to draw or even write to share with you guys, I've missed it. Anyways, that's all, I'm still very sad about this.

To the one who did this, I know your Tumblr account, but I won't even bother to mention you, rather you read this and hope you learn something. I'm still bit kind enough not to be mad at you, but pretty much you added more disappointment with myself as a creator and as a person.

I took a copy of their revised version of my AU. (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fvgbxFU_WMQjvujQjHKWSNcja2AmPefS0q2PFOQV5Ys/edit?usp=sharing) While here's the original version of my AU. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524027/chapters/69895557)

#stacycpr #hugletale #undertale #important #i just keep thinking how less of a creator i am #you could say i shouldnt think that way #but im really just so sad about this #when my au is least recognizable #and even as a creator not even that known as well

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shannara810 · 16 days

Note

I can see percy being an artist vibe. But more of make sculptors and crazy paintings vibe. Like very crazy. He collects sea shells and sea glass to make sculptors.

Mmm, let's see what I can do with your prompt. Gonna write it straight away, so I'm sorry in advance for the mistakes 🥲, @darkcrowprincess .

"Yancy Academy had a new Art Teacher.

Monsieur Poitiers was quite funny in his looks: short and stocky the teacher looked like an egg, with two thin black moustache he liked to roll up on his index finger.

The task he had assigned Percy for the end of his school year was quite peculiar too: the teen had to "catch the essence of a Hero" in an artwork, using the materials he preferred.

Sculpture, painting, mosaic: it mattered little. Mounsier Poitiers didn't give him any kind of limit, Percy could choose the form of art he liked best. The only thing the teacher asked for was that the message had to come "straight from his heart".

At first Percy didn't give much thought to his assignment. I mean: being a demigod himself, his life was full of "Heroes", so how hard could it be?

His mom was a hero. Annabeth was his hero. As soon as he had time to work on it, he was sure to finish his painting in the blink of an eye. However...

Nothing. His mind was blank.

He tried to picture Annabeth on a canvas or as one of those white marble statues he had seen at the Museum, but nothing worked.

It was driving him bonkers! He took a deep breath. He was tired. That's all. He could work on his drawing another day.

New quests, new missions, new bullies. His life was so messed up, he soon forgot about his art assignment.

Well, till the day before he had to hand it over.

When he finally remembered the artwork, Percy went crazy. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to bad grades, but he really liked Monsieur Poitiers and didn't want to disappoint him.

So Percy started to fiddle with some shells and colored glass he had collected near Mountak. In truth he didn't have any idea of what he was doing. He was just putting things together on a hunch. Soon, however, the shells took the shape a face; yet they were not quite right in his eyes. They lacked... something, one last touch.

Yellow and white and orange. Gold right there! He needed to add something gold. And light blue. The kind of blue the sky turned to just a moment before a summer storm blew it.

He was so caught up in this weird art frenzy he forgot to eat that night, but finally! It was done. Finito. Caput.

He was going to ace his test, he was sure of this!

The next day Mounsier Poitiers was quite pleased with his student. The teacher spent words on words to praise the perfection of his work: such strong feelings! Percy's artwork deserved an A+, but the teen had to give it a title first!

"Hmm?"

Who was that man? The man Percy had portrayed in his mosaic, the hero who could evoke such passion in his teen heart?

At Percy's puzzled expression, Mounsier Poitiers laughed a little. The shades of gold in his hair, the scar on the candid cheek: it was personal. The man Percy had chosen as his Hero could not have been a stranger. There was warmth in this work, a deep love for the person who had been captured in shells and glass.

The teacher's words had the effect of a bomb on the poor boy. It was like being thunderstruck.

"Luke..."

Because it was Luke, there was no doubt. The hero who had inspired Percy's first A+ on a schoolwork was Luke Castellan".

#percy jackson #luke castellan #percy pjo #lukercy #perluke #art #drabble #pygmalion&galatea #how to write a fic in twenty minutes or so #Percy was in love and didn't know it #greek mythology

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bvannn · 11 days

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Weekly Update April 19, 2024

I had more lingering sickness from the last surgery this week. I'm pretty sure that's what it was since it went away after I took my medicine, although I'm still messed up and exhausted from all my schoolwork, though. Haven't got a whole lot done as a result, but I made some progress.

Most of what I did was on music projects, which I've decided to start referring to by their initials in these updates so they can be differentiated from one another, but they aren't completely spoiled either. OEB was the cover I got done a while ago, and I've been chipping away at the music video for that, which is 16% storyboarded. Also finished up another cover I had been working on, WOTW, which I'd like to do an animation for as well, albeit a shorter and simpler one. This means I'm sitting on 4 songs I can't release for a while, because those two need visuals, and the two originals, BMBO and BATB, still need lyrics. I did progress on lyrics for BATB this week, and I've been upset for the same reasons that prompted me to write BMBO in the first place today as well so I'll try to take another bite out of that one, too. BMBO is 33% done with lyrics right now, BATB is like, 45%. Both a ways out but if I sit down and focus they'll get done quick, that's how I was able to finish WOTW as fast as I was. A couple instrumental themes are in progress too, I've been having fun just sitting down and writing melodies, but I don't think I need to work on those for a while anyway because I want to focus more on my comic once I'm able.

Oh yeah the comic. I haven't had much chance to work on it myself because I've been sick and playing piano helps my heart rate, so I've been doing that instead. Right now comic pages are 7% done, I am bottlenecked on drawing backgrounds because I really don't feel like it with my workload, but if I get more free time I'd like to just pound out another page's worth. It's mostly a time issue right now, but hopefully I can get some rest, and finish up page 3 soon.

I also haven't had the chance to do anything else. I apologize for posting so many low effort sketches, I hope I'll be able to have time to make a real drawing soon, but for now I'm focusing on schoolwork above all else. I'll do schoolwork for now, but normal classes are done after next week, finals shouldn't be too bad, and I'll be able to just unload on animation and comic after I get some rest. I've been in a pretty bad headspace as well due to being sick and all the work, so I've been trying to post more small drawings to still have something to show, since interaction makes me feel less lonely, but it seems like you guys are getting tired of it, which is fair. I'm going to try to lay off for a while, and if I have time to make a real drawing I will, but it's unlikely. Thank you for being patient, I'm almost through the worst of it!

#weekly update

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kkbardd · 2 months

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hello! i haven’t sent an ask in a while because schoolwork has been piling up infinitely :[ , but your recent posts have been really interesting to me! i really liked the room sketch one, I can’t exactly explain why but there’s something so indescribably human about it. i love spaces that looked lived in, that have personality, and I think that your room (current one? made up? old one?) has done a great job of showing that. and I’m not very good at giving advice— I can hardly follow it myself, but if you don’t know something, don’t know what you want to do, try things. it’s okay if you don’t like them. i recently found out I’m more competent in languages than I thought! i can already read and understand simple sentences in german.

there’s always more to yourself than you’ll know, I think, but the world is kinder than people think. If anything, everyone is still very new at this. we’ve never lived before. do the things you like, branch out, don’t become less of yourself for other people. everything has a place, and my best advice is to treat life as you would a vacation. do all the things you can while you’re here. build a life that makes it worth it. (sorry for the long ask and my rambling, or if this is overstepping in any way. i just read what you wrote and kind of related to it in a way. thank you for continuing to create art, it brings me a lot of joy! :] )

hey isopod!!! thanks for the ask & I wish u good luck with ur school work!

Thank u so much for the compliments, im really glad the vibe of my room was conveyed in those doodles. i absolutely looove drawing my room! It’s extremely small (a renovated utility closet) and just barely fits a bed + my desk but its packed full of the things i love. It’s very lived in and I feel like it reflects my character well.

when i drew that page I was in my senior year of high school and pressures to decide my future were overwhelming. I never thought much about it until then and I didn’t have any idea of what I was going to do. The only thing I felt I had going for me was art but I didn’t want to turn my only hobby into a job I hated. I remember going through a master list of majors on random college websites and one-by-one asking myself if I’d be okay doing it. In the end I had nothing. I was really crushed about it and felt stuck. This was right after the covid quarantine too so focusing in school was difficult & I couldn’t bring myself to apply for scholarships. I started skipping classes, smoking weed, and pushing off my assignments. All of this only made me feel more miserable, of course, so everything seemed pretty bleak at the time.

But luckily I had the support of my family and especially my mother. She would always remind me that “we have option”, “we always have options”. Because I did! This was a fresh start to try my hand at a totally different experience than what I’ve done so far. I ended up choosing my major on a complete whim after hearing my aunt had a job in an adjacent field. I was pretty sure I’d drop out after a semester, yet here I am about to graduate soon & I’m having a ton of fun!! (Hell, I’m 10 hours out in the middle of nowhere right now for my Field Methods class!) It’s not that I had a knack for Geology that I just never tapped into, or that i secretly had a passion for rocks this entire time; I just found something that seemed like an okay fit and grew interest from there. I think that a small level of commitment like that is more than enough to get you going. I had a ton of ideas in my head about how I needed to have a perfect fit major that would connect every dot I’ve laid out in my life thus far, but that’s not true at all. Life is much more messy and unpredictable than that.

But enough of my rambling!! That time of my life may have been stressful but I’m very grateful that I went through it! It changed how I viewed problems and it taught me to always look for other options when everything seems helpless.

Thank u so much for ur encouragement, I really appreciate it <33 I completely agree with everything u said!! Life is an ever changing experience & often leads u in unpredictable directions!

#ask #ilu isopod #I often look back on those sketches (and more that I just haven’t posted)#I find a kind of beauty in it idk how to explain it #teenage angst is just something we all gotta go thru #ranting #we have options

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some-little-infamy · 2 months

Text

Going Public

(Read on AO3) (Femslash February prompt: "I never said that")

Robin watches Chrissy from the bleachers. There’s a notebook in her hand, and she’s holding a pencil against the empty pages, but she isn’t actually getting any schoolwork done. In fact, she’s mostly just doodled some random shapes here and there to make it look like she wasn’t just blatantly staring at the cheerleader while she practices, even though she and Chrissy both know that’s all Robin’s doing. She isn’t exactly subtle about it, not that she wants to be.

She just needs to be subtle enough that the other cheerleaders don’t catch on. Robin loves being able to watch Chrissy out in public like this, and she wouldn’t dare risk it by having someone else notice, or catch on that the two of them are anything other than casual friends. That might even be too much, Robin thinks.

She doodles a circle, and then a triangle, and then… something that’s meant to be a stop-sign sort of shape, but the sides are too uneven and wonky to be anything recognizable so Robin draws lines out from each corner that turn the entire bottom of the page into some massive chaos scribble.

There’s the sound of a whistle and the cheerleaders wander away from their practice area, some breaking off into smaller groups to talk, others grabbing water bottles. Chrissy gives Robin a small wave, and Robin nearly drops her pencil and notebook with how quickly she raises her own hand to return the gesture, catching them just before they fall through the opening in the metal by her feet.

Chrissy laughs. Robin made Chrissy laugh. Yes, it’s at the expense of her klutziness, but she’ll take it.

What she won’t take is the way the girl next to Chrissy look from her and up to Robin, before pulling a face like she just smelled rotten cheese before turning to whisper something to Chrissy. Robin looks down at her notebook quickly, face flushing. Shit. She starts to gather her things hastily into her bag, pages crumpling with the haphazard way she shoves everything together just to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Except before she can leave, Chrissy’s jogging towards her, seemingly uncaring of the looks that follow behind her back.

“Where are you going?” Chrissy asks, frowning. “Away,” Robin mutters. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to keep us a secret and I fucked it all up-”

“I never said that,” Chrissy says, stopping Robin in her tracks.

“Well, I mean, sure. But you didn’t have to. You’re popular, and a cheerleader, and-” “And I like you, Robin. I thought you were the one who didn’t want people knowing!”

“You… I… what?” Robin sputters. The world feels like it’s spun her around a dozen times and dropped her upsidedown. This is bizzaro land, some sort of weird, opposite timeline. It has to be. There’s no way that Chrissy Cunningham is standing in front of her - in front of every single Hawkins High Cheerleader - and saying she wouldn’t mind if people knew they were together.

“I’ll tell everyone right now if you want me to,” Chrissy doubles-down, already moving to turn back around and face the field.

“No!” Robin says instinctively. Does she want to? Hypothetically, she’d give anything to be able to just hold hands and kiss Chrissy in the halls between classes, or actually be seen going out to lunch on weekends instead of always going over to each other’s houses to ‘study’. But that also means… well, it means people knowing. People who won’t be as kind about it as Steve was. Robin thinks she can handle it, but she doesn’t know if Chrissy really understands what they may be in for.

Robin isn’t sure Chrissy’s ever faced a single moment of criticism in her life. Why would she, when she’s so perfect, inside and out?

“No?” Chrissy asks, her face falling.

Shit. In that moment Robin realizes that she’s absolutely overthinking this. After all, this isn’t her decision to make for Chrissy, only for herself. Robin may not have been sure before, but she’s certain now; if telling people wipes that frown from Chrissy’s face then there’s nothing Robin wants more.

“I mean, I don’t… not… want you to tell everyone. But maybe just later and a little less spectacle-y? If you really want to? I’ve been dying to tell Steve,” Robin admits. “And we can go on dates! Real dates! Not that we weren’t really dating before, but-”

“You’re lucky you’re up on those bleachers right now, Robin Buckley, or I’d simply have to kiss you to stop that precious nervous rambling.”

“You could come up here,” Robin points out.

“Chrissy!”

The call comes from one of the other cheerleaders as they gather back up into their practice formation.

“I suppose you’re safe for now. Stay to walk me home after practice?” Chrissy asks.

“Absolutely,” Robin promises.

This time, when the other cheerleaders look on with surprise as Chrissy turns to blow Robin a kiss from back on the field, Robin finds herself flustered not out of embarrassment, but out of pure joy.

Robin smiles, and realizes that she’s going to like this public dating thing even more than she first thought.

#femslash february #stranger things #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #buckingham #femslash

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writingonleaves · 8 months

Text

like you were my closest friend - tyler seguin

pairing: tyler seguin x original female character

warnings: swearing, some angst, mostly fluff

word count: 4.1k

based on: "maroon" by taylor swift, title from that song as well

author's note: okay this isn't my favorite one because i think it's a bit rushed, but i thought i'd put it out anyways. would very much like to emphasize that this is fictional and i'm rooting for segs and his hot wife!! im a sucker for right person wrong time vibes and shit happening at weddings so here's a combo of that! also maroon is so seggy coded and you can't tell me otherwise

*****

Carmen Valez was 19 and stupid when she first met Tyler Seguin.

Working at a tattoo shop to make extra money while trying to put herself through college, she was cleaning up from her boss’s last scheduled appointment of the night when in came a group of rowdy guys. It wasn’t the first time a group of drunk guys came in looking for a tattoo. She had listened as her boss Ken came out and did his spiel and she heard laughter and some agreements so they couldn’t have been that drunk because her boss would’ve put up more of a fight.

When she first saw Tyler, she recognized him immediately. Growing up in Boston in a family of hockey lovers, how could she not recognize the rookie who had just won the Stanley Cup? As she turned the corner even more, she saw Brad Marchand and all she could think about was that she couldn't wait to tell her brothers and dad about this.

Ken introduced her to the guys and asked her if she could set up some things. She waved in greeting and nodded, going in the back to gather the supplies needed. She tried to stifle a yawn as she re-sterilized the needles, but it didn’t work.

“Long night?”

She whipped around to see Tyler peeking in behind a curtain. “Are you looking for something?”

“The bathroom. But I think I found something much better.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “Go to the end of the hall and it’s on your right.”

“Thanks,” he tilted his head to the side. “Are you the one who drew those flower designs that are hanging up in the hall?”

“I am. Ken asked me to draw some things so the shop wasn’t only filled with his designs.”

“You tattoo as well?”

“Oh, no way. That’s all Ken.” She shrugged. “I’ve designed some, but never physically tattooed them on someone. My hands are too shaky.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

He hummed and then went on his way to the bathroom as she finished gathering the supplies and went outside with them.

Ken became the guy Tyler kept coming back to for his tattoos so she got to know him and despite his reputation as a partier and womanizer, she found him endearing, often making conversation with him during his longer sessions while Ken was working on him on the table and she was doing schoolwork or doodling in the front.

It was a weird friendship because Tyler was rarely stationary in Boston and Carmen was attending Northeastern University and they really didn’t mix in any of the same circles but they kept coming back to each other. Their friendship developed to the point where he would come by on his nights off to her off-campus apartment with takeout and they would flick on a movie. He told her about his insecurities of having such a fantastic rookie year and then never amounting to anything else and she told him about her confusions of what she actually wanted to do with her communications degree. He talked about how hooking up with girls was easier than seeing if someone was only using him for his image and she talked about her view on relationships and how long distance never works.

He would invite her to games and she’d come along sometimes, dragging her best friend along with her to TD Garden. She knew all about his lifestyle and how he’d hook up with girls left and right but when she was with him, she always only saw a 20 something year old boy who was thrust into stardom really quickly and who was fucking up like anybody else his age but being overly criticized for it because of his job. She didn’t really see him as anything more than a friend, truly. She could admit easily that he was objectively attractive and probably too charming for his own good, but she saw him as one of her dearest friends more than anything.

(Even if she had the slightest feeling that she wanted to be more during those years, heart fluttering when he texted her to make sure she got home safe after late nights or winking at her and throwing her a puck at one of his games, causing her to grin like a middle school girl with a crush, she always pushed it away)

So when she was in the Cape celebrating the Fourth and news broke out that the Bruins had traded him to Dallas, she felt her heart drop. She ventured to a quieter area away from the celebrations and dialed his number. She wasn’t sure if he’d want to talk, but she couldn’t not call him to see if he was okay.

From the sniffling on his end, despite what he said, she knew he wasn’t okay, and told him that when she was back in the city, she’d come around to his place with food, wine and hugs.

The next week, when he opened the door, she dropped everything and just embraced him, holding him for several minutes as she tried to keep her tears in. She pulled away and just apologized for bringing some cheap rose that her roommate left at her apartment a couple of months ago instead of an actual nice bottle and he just laughed. She set up food from their favorite takeout place and they automatically went through all of these motions but with a sad feeling in the air. This night was going to be the last one of these, before he went back home the following weekend to Canada to spend the rest of his off season there and then head to Dallas. His apartment was already bare, having gotten started on moving out as soon as he had gotten the call.

She tried so, so hard not to cry as they put on Great British Bake Off and talked and somehow they started reflecting on numerous random moments and memories they had shared the last three years and they were both laughing as he complained about her almost spilling her wine like usual and she just threw her napkin at him. For the first time, he’s the one who splashed his wine on her t-shirt and he hiccuped and apologized and offered a shirt for her to change into and she waved him off, a blush on her cheeks either from the alcohol or from his proximity or both.

At one point, they ended up on the floor cuddling with his dogs and he asked how they even ended up there and she snorted, referencing the two bottles of rose they had downed and he had snorted and flashed her a stunning smile and her heart cracked a bit more.

They were both dozing off on the couch — his arm thrown over her as she cuddled into his chest because they both had always been touchy when they were drunk — when he said something that would forever plague her memory.

“I should’ve asked you to be mine.”

She blinked and shot up, looking down at him. “What?”

“I-I should’ve just asked you on a date. You could’ve been mine this whole time.”

“Tyler. You can’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it.”

“What makes you think I don’t mean it, Car?” He shot back, sitting up. “I know I’m drunk and I know I’m about to leave this city and maybe never see you again but of course I mean it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears fell. “Tyler.”

“I don’t regret a single moment of our friendship. I just regret that I never told you how I felt until it was too late.”

“You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Stop trying to discount my words because I’m drunk,” he said sternly. “I love you as a friend, of course, but I-I love you as more too. For awhile now, I think. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same and again, I’m the dumbest guy alive for bringing this up tonight of all nights but I just…I had to tell you before I left.”

She put her head in her heads and started crying softly. “I love you too,” she admitted through her tears. “I-I just never said anything because I didn’t think you were looking for more. Jesus, I literally know two of the girls you’ve hooked up with the past year. Do you know how annoying and gross it is to hear about your performance in bed while I’m trying to cram last minute for an exam?”

He chuckled and she looked at him again and saw that there were tears running down his cheeks as well. “We’re both stupid, aren’t we?”

“We are.”

He looked up at the ceiling with quivering lips. “I’m not going to ask you for more, no matter how much I want to.”

She nodded vehemently and cupped his face with both her hands, wanting so bad to kiss his lips and using every part of her strength not to. “You’re going to be amazing in Dallas.” She brushed a falling tear and tried to give him a reassuring smile as his top lip quivered. “You’re going to become a lover of the heat and look amazing in green and start liking country music and I’m going to make fun of you for all of it.”

“But you’re not gonna be there.”

She swallowed with a small shrug. “Who knows? Maybe a job in Dallas will open up after I graduate.”

“You wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t let you. Your heart belongs to the Northeast.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she weakly protested, slapping his arm and making him chuckle.

But he was right. And she hated that he was right.

She watched his eyes flit to her lips and she hoped that he was also fighting the urge as he placed a kiss on her forehead, which somehow was probably worse than if he had just kissed her.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” He said, voice cracking at the edges.

She squeezed her eyes shut, not being able to say it back because she didn’t want to completely break down. “Let’s get some sleep.”

That last night, they fell asleep on the couch like they had done numerous times before and he sent her off in the morning like he had done numerous times before, except this time she held onto him as tight as she could. Maybe if she kept hugging him, he wouldn’t have to go.

But he had to. And he did.

Carmen Valez was 22 when she saw Tyler Seguin again.

After graduation, she had gotten a job in New York, and he was in town playing the Rangers. They had gone out to dinner and then to a bar for drinks and things fell back into place as they leaned in close to each other the whole night and she kissed him, bringing him back to her apartment. She woke up with marks on her collarbone and memories of his lips all over her body and cursed herself as she watched him peacefully sleep next to her because she was still in love with him.

He had woken up with a soft but sad smile. “Has your view on long distance relationships changed?”

She bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

He swallowed. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault you’re the easiest person to fall in love with. Can I ask one thing though?”

“Of course.”

“If your view does change, give me a call?”

“Tyler-”

“I’m serious. Whether it’s 10 days or 10 years from now, call me.”

A tear had slipped out from her eyes when he pulled her into his chest, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Carmen Valez was 27 when she realized her view on long distance changed. And the first person she thought of was Tyler Seguin.

They had kept in touch very sporadically throughout the years over text and had tried to meet up everytime he came to New York to play, but the contact became less and less as the years went on. She tried to pretend it didn’t hurt. She had no right to be hurt. He could live his life however he wanted.

She was going down to Dallas for one of her coworker’s weddings and was tempted to call Tyler to see if he was around — for the first time, she’d be where he was instead of the other way around — but she didn’t bother because it was the off season and she figured he was home in Canada.

As she walked into the venue, she was shocked to see Tyler speaking to the bride’s grandma. She couldn’t help but smile at how gentle he was, soft smile on his face as he tucked the grandma’s hand into the crook of his elbow while leading her to her seat. He looked so handsome in his gray suit.

Gosh, he’s changed since they met in that tattoo parlor in Boston. They both have. But something about his smile makes her realize that almost nothing has changed at all.

When he sees her, she swears he lights up and her stomach flutters. She notices quickly that he’s a groomsman, if his matching suit with a couple of the other ushers indicates anything. He strolls up to her with his signature charming smile and she can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Funny seeing you here.”

She scoffs, before stepping forward and hugging him tightly. “Hey Ty.”

“Hi Car.” He turns to her coworker with a stunning smile. “And hello Car’s friend. I’m Tyler. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Samantha. How do you two know each other?”

She exchanges a look with him, because it’s a long story. But she settles with, “Ran into him when he played in Boston and I went to college there, and he didn’t leave me alone.” The three of them laugh.

“I’m assuming you both are here for the bride?”

“We are.”

He offers an arm to the both of them. “Follow me, ladies.” Carmen can tell Samantha is charmed as she rolls her eyes but grabs the crook of his elbow anyways.

After he escorts them to their seats, he has to bolt and just bids them farewell with a kiss on Carmen’s cheek and a promise to save her a dance later before ducking out of the church, presumably to help out with some behind the scenes stuff.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Samantha gives her a skeptical look. “We’ve been working together for two years and you failed to tell me that you know Tyler Seguin? You know I grew up a Stars fan.”

“It’s never come up.”

“Fair.” She blinks, looking for something in her coworker’s face. “You love him, don’t you?”

“What? No, of course-”

“Nice try. If your heart eyes hadn’t given you away, it was your response just now. You’ve always been a bad liar. What’s the story between you two?”

She sighs, staring at the front of the church at nothing in particular. “We met when I worked at a tattoo parlor in college and he came in and we became really good friends. He got traded to Dallas and then told me loved me on his last night in the city. Knew I didn’t believe in long distance at the time so didn’t ask for more. We slept together around a year later. My stance on long distance hadn’t changed. We’ve seen each other sporadically when I’m free and he’s in New York for a game, but not much recently.”

Samantha whistles. “Sounds like a lot.”

Carmen just snorts. She has no idea.

“So you still love him.”

Carmen just sighs.

“I think he still might love you too.”

Carmen snorts, smoothing down her dress. “How could you possibly know that? You met him for maybe two minutes.”

“Maybe it’s the fact that we’re at a wedding and this could be a scene from a Hallmark movie, but I’m also pretty sure he also had heart eyes when he saw you.”

Carmen just hums, and Samantha drops it, as they shift to other safer topics.

The ceremony is stunning and the bride is gorgeous and the groom is beaming, yet besides when the bride walked down the aisle, she can’t tear her eyes away from Tyler, standing at the front with a constant happy look on his face. As he walked down with an accompanying bridesmaid on his arm, he caught her eye and shot her a sly wink and she knows she blushed and she didn’t even try to hide it.

The next time she caught him was well into the reception, after dinner had been eaten and the dance floor was starting to open up. She had just finished her drink before she felt a tap on her shoulder, looking up to see Tyler with an outstretched hand.

“Dance with me?”

Without giving a verbal answer, she takes his hand and lets him lead her to the dance floor. She wraps her arms around his neck as his hands settle on her waist.

“You didn’t reach out to tell me you were gonna be in town.”

“I figured you’d be in Canada for the off-season.”

He hums, but he doesn’t buy the excuse. To be fair, she doesn’t either. “It’s really good to see you, Car.” He says, and she might be imagining him pulling her closer. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you.”

He smirks and she feels like she’s 19 again. “I look beautiful?”

She rolls her eyes. “You do.” She says softly. “How have you been?”

And then they start catching up, and it’s so damn easy, as the conversation flows from hockey to her advertising job to their memories in Boston to their mutual friends who just got married to their families and it feels like he’s still on the Bruins and she’s still at Northeastern. At some point, they migrate from the dance floor to the empty-ish open bar and they’re still talking and she realizes how much she’s missed having him in his life.

When she voices that out loud, his beaming smile dims the slightest. “God, I’ve missed you so much. Is this what I’ve been missing out on?”

“Don’t even start, Seguin.”

“What?”

“Blaming yourself or whatever you’re about to do. If we’re gonna blame someone, it’s all on me.”

Their first seconds of silence fall between them. “How has that been, by the way? You got a lucky guy back in New York waiting for you?”

She snorts. “Absolutely not. You? I hope I didn’t steal you away from a date or something.”

“Nah. No one for me.”

“Not at all?”

“None who have meant as much to me as you.”

She feels like her heart’s been sucker punched. Typical Tyler Seguin. Always going in for the kill.

She switches topics. “I-I watched your Stanley Cup playoff run. You played really well. I’m sorry it wasn’t the result you guys wanted.”

“You watch my games?”

She swallows. Busted. “I try to whenever I can, even though I still feel like I’m betraying my Bruins when I do.”

He laughs, still a bit shocked. “I’m sure they’d forgive you. I was a Bruin, after all.”

She downs her drink and asks the bartender for a water. “I missed you,” she says quietly once the bartender is out of earshot. “And I always loved watching you play. Figured it was the next best thing.”

“You could’ve called. Or texted. I would’ve answered.”

She shakes her head. “That would’ve been unfair to you, especially with how I left things off.”

He chuckles, albeit sadly. “Carmen. I’m kinda weak when it comes to you. Always have been.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, a tear falling as she feels Tyler place a warm hand on her thigh over her maroon dress. “You give me way too much power.”

“I don’t think I could ever give you what you deserve, no matter how hard I try.”

Carmen wipes the tear away with a small smile. She pokes his chest. “How do you come up with this shit?”

He laughs, taking a sip of his beer, before his face settles into a more serious expression. “Can I ask you two questions, though? No bullshit. Just the truth.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Do you still love me?”

She nods at an embarrassingly fast pace.

He swallows. “Oh.”

She picks at her nails, suddenly unsure. “D-Do you still love me? It’s-it’s totally okay if you don’t. I mean, I wouldn’t expect you to. It’s been years and we don’t really see each other much anymore and-”

“Of course I still love you.” She whips her head up to stare at him in shock. He runs a hand through his hair with a huff.

She puts her hand over his that’s still resting on his thigh and interlaces their fingers together. “What’s your second question?”

“Do you still not believe in long distance?”

“I’ve been thinking…I think I’m open to trying it.”

His eyes flash in surprise as his lips turn up into a hopeful smile. “Really? You’re not fucking with me?”

“Since when have I ever lied to you, Ty?”

“Can I have a third question? And maybe a fourth?”

She rolls her eyes fondly, squealing a bit as he brings her stool even closer to him. “Was that it?”

“Smartass.” She nods at him to ask. “Would you want to try? With me?”

She swallows. “Yes.” She thinks he physically lights up, like a lightbulb with a new battery, but she holds a hand up. “But Tyler, things have changed. We’ve changed. Is this…is this really what you want? Am I really who you want?”

“I left Boston eight years ago in love with you. Here I am, eight years later in Dallas, still in love with you. Probably more in love with you, actually, which I didn’t think was possible.” He grabs her hands and lifts them to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “When do you head back to New York?”

She blinks at the abrupt change of subject. “Um, I’m actually in Dallas for another week for a work conference. So not until next Sunday.”

He grins. “Stay at mine then. Please.”

“Tyler-”

“I’ll have to head back to Canada for a couple weeks for things I can’t reschedule, but then, if you let me, I’d love to come to New York and spend some time with you until I have to come back to Dallas for pre-season.”

“Tyler, that’s…how are you so confident and sure about all of this?”

“Because it’s you,” he says. “And I love you. I’m not wasting this chance that you’ve given me.”

She bites her lip, trying to take it all in. “I’m going to need to grab my stuff from the hotel tonight.”

“Deal. I’ve only had like, two beers in the last three hours anyways. I can drive you.”

“You know that I’m not just going to…drop everything to come to Dallas, right? My job and my life is all in New York.”

“I’d be a dumbass to expect that. Your heart belongs to the Northeast.”

She smiles, momentarily flashing back to the last time he said those exact same words and how similar and different they are now. She leans forward and kisses him sweetly, like he’s coming home from a game, like she’s in the middle of cooking dinner, like they’ve been doing this all their lives. She then pulls him up and drags him back to the dance floor.

“Would you have called me?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers into his chest, immediately knowing what he’s referencing. Eight years later and she still remembers that night like it was yesterday. “What if you were in a relationship or something? That would’ve been unfair to everyone.”

“I wouldn’t have been.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Because I’ve always loved you. At this point, I’m pretty sure that I always will.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. And as he presses a loving kiss on her forehead, she hopes he understands what she’s trying to thank him for — for coming into that tattoo shop all those years ago, for all the nights and memories in Boston that involved takeout and Netflix and endless fits of laughter, for always believing in her, for waiting for her and being understanding even when she broke his heart.

For loving her.

“By the way,” Tyler says as he twirls her around, hands immediately attaching to her waist once she’s facing him again. “I always loved you in maroon.”

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #hockey fanfic #dallas stars #tyler seguin #tyler seguin fic #tyler seguin blurb #hockey blurb #tyler seguin x oc

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