#10pm scribbles

[quirkle2]

ms paint with mouse time

#qkdraws #id in alt #scribbled this out in like two hours while watching johnstone repeatedly fail at nuzlockes <3 #i know it doesn't seem like a 2 hour thing but . shut up im slow #ignore the ''''''shading'''''' on the sunflower i know it's gross. ms paint was not made for beauty it was made for raw lines #twas made for the people in the wee hours of the night that have art block and decide to break it by ditching their tablet (me) #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho #mp100 #mp100 shigeo #shigeo kageyama #mp100 mob #gonna be real w u idk how to tag the noose #uhm #tw sui implied #??????????? #i literally don't know please lemme know if i should add or change tags #i missed drawin with a mouse it's a nice change of pace from pencil #i do think it's Fascinating that even when using a completely different tool the art style does not change. that's so wild #makes u think (it is past 10pm i should Not be thinking at all. abt anything rly) #anyway .throws my nonsense tags into the void bye

[pigeonwit]

For the writing questions: POV?

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

(i understand the point of this specific ask game was just to write little two-sentence fic-bits but. i thought 'run boy run jack POV' and it didn't stop. so this is less 'something that's already happened' and more 'everything that's happened so far, just more condensed' so uh. sorry bout that!)

Jack’s not stupid. He’s not smart, no matter how much Katherine and Davey try to convince him otherwise, but he’s not stupid – he knows when something’s wrong with Davey. It’s not as easy as with the other fellas; Jack’s spent his whole life picking up tells, learning expressions, memorizing little physical quirks and vocal clues until he could read the entire lodging house like the morning paper. But Davey... He knows how to hide himself with a talent that verges on terrifying if Jack thinks about it too much. Jack might be able to paint on a brighter expression, to tune his voice into something cheerful, but Davey entirely rewrites himself, shifts to better fit the narrative he’s written, and it makes actually getting a grasp on him all the more difficult. But even if Davey’s the guy Jack’s known for the least, he’s still the guy Jack knows the most, and as convincing as Davey is when he’s playing a role, Jack’s learned over time how to pick apart his inconsistencies.

Davey’s not meant to be quiet. Jack had that figured out the moment Davey opened his smart mouth and told Weasel he’d shorted his papers. As much as he’d wanted to roll his eyes at the pretty little schoolboy who’d decided to kick it with the street kids for some extra pocket change, Davey’d been determined – whether he was aware of it or not – to knock down Jack’s expectations brick by shoddy brick. Davey’s always had a loudness about him; he gathers a glare in his brows that just begs a person to say something stupid for him to shut down; he has a squareness to his shoulders that gives him the affect of the towers marking the Brooklyn Bridge, sturdy and unshakable, and he keeps a sharp, knowing look in his eyes that almost does all the talking for him, picking apart every argument and insecurity in the person before him without needing to say a word. Even when Davey’s silent, he’s loud – the only reason people don't notice is because he's never let them. He's spent his whole life learning how to be quiet, because boys like Davey aren’t meant to be loud. They’re meant to nod their heads, smile politely, and be grateful for the little they’ve been given, or else they lose everything. It’s what made Jack so proud, so stunned, so blown away by the sheer force of nature that is Davey Jacobs – because as much as he gives Jack the credit for making him who he is, all Jack really gave him was an opportunity. An opportunity to just be heard. And Davey took that opportunity and ran with it, with Jack by his side, throwing away a whole life’s worth of lessons forced into him since birth.

So what else is Jack meant to think, if Davey’s so quiet now?

He’d tried not to assume the worst when Davey went back to school. He’d be a hypocrite, really, to just assume Davey’d throw them all away for an education, when he’d been far more loyal to the newsies within the span of a few months than Jack ever had in his whole life. But he couldn’t help but wonder if this was it, if this was where Davey left and David started all over again – the good and responsible family man who took care of his loved ones and no one else, least of all himself. It’d dug a pit in his stomach, the thought of the dull-eyed schoolboy, killing himself a little bit every day just to prove he was good at this, whatever ‘this’ was to him. But Davey persisted, because of course he did, that’s what Davey does. He’s seen Davey roll his eyes and complain about what a good, upstanding student he used to be before he met Jack, but Jack knows that fight was always there, and all those little rebellions and tiny acts of justice have only been growing under Davey’s newfound pride.

He’d left the school gates with all of himself intact, save for maybe his time-management skills, and spent their evening hawking and joking and just being them. Clearly, all of Jack’s worries had been for nothing. Especially when Davey complained about how girls, for whatever reason, just kept on talking to him. Jack couldn’t even put his relief into words – all he could bring himself to do was laugh, because of course that was what Davey had done. Truly, it was the only Davey thing he could have done. And Jack loved him for it.

But then… Jack can’t describe it. He wishes he could say it happened almost overnight, but he knew better than that. He’d seen the signs – like when he paints and feels his fingers twitch just so, but brushes it off as something not worth worrying about. It wasn’t until he saw the big picture that he really noticed.

Davey won’t talk to him anymore. He’ll speak, but he won’t talk. They used to talk about everything, about Santa Fe and owning a dog, about the Refuge and Davey’s father, about Jack’s suffocating pipe fantasies and the big uncertain void labelled ‘Davey’s future’. Now it’s just… Hollow. It’s all selling and ‘how’s things?’ and the fucking weather. And he won’t touch him, either – fine, yes, Davey’s never been the most touchy-feely guy, but Jack thought, perhaps vainly, that he was the exception to that rule. He remembers the first time Davey ever kicked his boot against Jack’s ankle. The first time he put a hand to Jack’s shoulder. The first time he rested his temple against Jack’s own, touching him without any barriers between them. If it was anyone else, he would’ve called himself stupid for reading into it – but Davey’s meant to be read into. Even when he tried to make himself unheard, he kept all his messages hidden away in tiny gestures – little nods, fidgeting fingers, small wiggles when he got too excited to keep it inside. Little notes in all his margins. Perhaps a picture’s worth a thousand words, but just one of Davey’s words is worth a million on its own.

Jack still thinks about it, sometimes. Davey smiling at him from the top of those basement stairs, saying ‘it’s good to have you back again,’ and somehow cramming so much meaning into the spaces between the words, so many hidden scribbles that Jack would spend years deciphering all of them.

Well, he thinks bitterly – perhaps Davey has someone else to talk to now. Someone else to puzzle out his secret messages, someone else to share his tiny smiles when they understand him just right.

That’s not fair. Jack knows it. He knows it’s not fair to hate Davey’s girl, whatever her name is-

(He knows her name, it’s Florence, he half-heard-half-saw Davey say it when he was pretending not to eavesdrop on them over the din of the street, and now he can’t forget it, no matter how hard he tries.)

-just for existing in all the ways Jack wishes he could. With Davey. Knowing him. Joking with him. Pressing a kiss to that sharp cheekbone and watching him turn into a stuttering mess over it all. But it’s even more unfair that Jack has to just sit and watch her do that when he’s the one who’s been thinking about it for months on end. He’s the one who knows that Davey hates having his tie pulled too tight, he’s the one who knows that Davey hates having stuff sprung on him, he’s the one who knows Davey - or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he just wishes he did because Davey knew him so perfectly. Maybe the thought that really scared him about Davey going back to school was Davey being absolutely fine. Davey being the one to leave after forcing Jack – whether he knew it or not – to stay.

That’s not fair, either. Davey’s not his replacement Santa Fe. Santa Fe was always a pipedream, something made of smoke for Jack to dream on… But Davey’s the one who showed Jack how to plan instead of just dream. To stop driving himself to the brink over fantasies and see the future he could have, if only he committed to it. And he can’t imagine that future without Davey – but Davey’s been planning a thousand futures since before he knew Jack existed. Davey’s the one who always knew the facts of the matter, and the facts of the matter are that Jack’s only a newsboy that Davey knew for a summer. Davey's been planning for a future his whole life, and Jack knows better than anyone that he’s not solid ground. Not for Davey.

But if Davey is falling – and perhaps it's selfish to think so, but Jack's certain he is – then Jack will do his best to catch him anyways. To make himself a soft place for him to land. If Davey doesn’t fall away from him, that is.

#(troy and abed theme song voice) pigeon scribbles in the moooorning - NIGHTS... #it's like 10pm. #i've proofread this so many times and i haven't seen any typos but i know they're there. somewhere. waiting to jump out at me. #anyways! i am beating the writing funk away with a stick. #newsies #uksies #run boy run #pigeon scribbles #piedoesnotequalpi #ask #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #javid #javey

[sibillascribbles08]

Oh it's aro week ! Here's a short Off Colors drabble for the occasion feat. Leo and April

April watched the credits rolling up the screen of her TV. Leo sat on the bed with her, his shell pressed against the wall and her legs rested over his, as usual on movie nights.

"So..." April broke the silence. "That was pretty good, right?"

"I guess?" He shrugged.

"You guess? What's wrong with it?"

"You know." He waved a hand. "Once again we have this intense adventure plot going on and there's some romance involved."

She sighed. "Leo, that doesn't make it bad."

"I know, I know." He tossed his hands up before crossing them and slouching down further in his seat. "It just has to come up every single time. And like, why? Do people really want romance in all their stories that badly?"

"I mean, yeah? Most people do, I guess." She climbed over Leo to reach the remote and turn the TV off. "Though I kind of get it. Like, why does it always have to be a guy and a girl. We need more girls falling in love with girls."

"No offense April, but I'd probably stick my tongue out at that too." As if to emphasize, he did it now.

April lightly kneed him in the stomach as she returned to her usual seat. "You don't have to complain about it that much."

"It's just... frustrating." He mumbled. "You say it's normal. Dad says it's normal. Hueso says it's normal. But I can't wrap my head around it."

She sank into her pillows and put her legs on his lap again. She took a moment to swallow her anger, after all Leo wasn't trying to be rude about it. He probably really didn't get it.

She tilted her head. "And you're certain it's not a find the right person situation?"

The turtle rolled his eyes and held one of his hoodie strings, swinging it around. "Well gee, how would I even know that? What other teenagers do I interact with besides you? Love you, by the way, but not like that."

"Good cause I don't like boys." She lifted a foot and used it to give his head a light shove.

He pushed her leg back down in an instant. "Dad keeps saying I'll get it when I'm older but he's been saying that for years. Like hello, I'm thirteen now. Doesn't it happen to most teenagers sooner than that?"

She shrugged. "I guess. But you're not exactly most teenagers either."

"Quick, google sexual maturity of red eared sliders."

She snorted at that, and was glad to see Leo crack a smile, but it didn't last.

Then, it gave her an idea.

"Actually, hang on." She climbed off her bed to grab her laptop off her desk. "I might have an idea."

"Are you actually going to google it?"

"No." She smiled and sat back down. "But you remember the whole thing with that flag on my pin board yeah?" She pointed to where it probably was behind her.

Leo nodded. "Yup, lesbian flag. Which you lied to me about at first and convinced me it was a country until my dad had to explain it."

She bit her lip to keep herself from laughing at that old joke. "Right, well there's a lot of other flags out there. I did some brief reading on them and I think one might help explain some things." She pulled up her internet browser and began to type.

He moved his legs and crawled over to sit next to her. "You're telling me there's a flag for people who hate romance?"

"Not exactly that but..." April scrolled down the page, glancing at the various lines of colors until she finally saw the one she remembered. "There, that's the one!"

Leo leaned closer to the screen, studying the bars of green, white, grey and black. "Aromantic?"

"Yeah." She clicked on the hyperlink which brought up the full page. "People who feel little to no romantic attraction." With it loaded she slid the computer onto his lap to let him scroll and read for as long as he wanted.

Which turned out to be for a while. April felt awkward with the silence so she climbed off the bed and grabbed all the empty bags of snacks and soda cans. "You want some water?"

Her friend just let out a hum of acknowledgement that she took as a yes. She carried the trash to the kitchen and tossed it in the bin, passing by her mom in the living room.

"Movie done?" Her mom asked, watching her own TV.

"Yeah, just chatting for a bit."

"He can stay the night if he wants, but you both aren't staying up all night."

"I know." April sighed. It wasn't a school night–they never did movie nights on school nights–but her mom was still mad about three weeks ago when the pair of them accidentally stayed up talking until one in the morning.

She pulled a couple of water bottles out of the wrapped plastic next to the fridge and shuffled back to her room, replying to her mom's quick good night.

Leo was still on the laptop when she returned, though now laying on his stomach and staring at the screen like it held the secret to life, love, and everything.

April wouldn't interrupt. She set his bottle on the nightstand and opened her own, taking a few sips and settling back onto the mattress.

"So..." Leo finally spoke up. "Maybe it is normal? That I'm not into romance? If this is apparently enough of a thing to make a group name for it."

She smiled and lightly scraped her nails over his shell. "Yeah! You might be ace too."

"I assume you don't mean that in the sense of 'extremely cool.'"

She snorted and leaned across his back to use the touchpad. She scrolled down to the related links, clicking on asexual.

"Hm, not as crazy about that flag." Leonardo raised a brow. "Prefer the greens." He scanned the page for a second. "Wait, is there a difference between romantic and sexual attraction?"

"Yeah." April tapped her mouth with the lid of her bottle. "I mean, I don't personally get it but it makes sense? After all, ace people aren't sexually into people, at least not always, but they still fall in love?"

"Hmm, yeah I don't think I'm into any of that."

"Then in that case..." April, still laying on his back, scrolled down again and clicked on the aroace page.

"Huh? They have a different flag?"

She laughed. "There's a lot of those."

"I like this one though." She could practically hear the smile in his voice. "It has blue in it. And orange! Doesn't yours have orange?"

"Yeah!"

"We could match! Sort of!"

"Yeah!" She giggled, and Leo responded, and soon both of them were falling into a fit of laughter.

April rolled off him while catching her breath, and then took another sip of water.

Leo got up and grabbed his own bottle. "It's not weird for me to just go with that, right?" He tilted his head as he frowned. "I mean, what if Dad is right? Maybe I'm still not old enough or haven't meant the right person or something."

She shrugged. "You're allowed to change your mind, Leo. I mean, I thought I was bi until I realized my interest in guys was just me trying to match what the girls in class were doing. Helps that my mom has knowledge about this though, I guess."

She kicked her legs. "Anyway, point is, you can go with it and change your mind later."

He smiled and drank some water. "I almost hope I don't. What if our flags stop matching?"

April snorted and tossed an arm around his neck to pull him close. "I'm sure we can find something else to match."

Leo's smile became softer and he turned to pull her into a proper hug. "Thanks, Apes."

She returned it, though she wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking her for. Could be any number of things, and she chose not to ask.

"Of course, Lee."

#rottmnt #scribbly fics #off colors au #it's 10pm posting this anyway #imagine they just watched whatever movie you want

[voidbuggg]

ok well that's out of my system

#comin in hot at 10pm pst weeeeeeeew no one will see this #scribbles #oc: eran jzahan #90s country brain rot

[ineffablywriting]

to love someone

Summary: an angsty one shot of one too many broken promises that leads to a broken heart or two

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst

Harry grinned to himself as he stepped out of the recording booth. 

“That’s the one,” he told Jeff, his heart racing with adrenaline at the prospect of a finished album. “I swear, this one’s the Grammy winner, Jeff,” he sighed, collapsing onto the sofa beside his manager. 

He’d rung Jeff and got his team together a couple hours ago when he’d been unable to get a melody out of his mind. He’d quickly scribbled together some lyrics on a scrap piece of paper he’d found lying around his apartment and rushed to the studio he had on retainer and worked nonstop for the last three hours getting the song together. And it was perfect - not to toot his own horn. 

“You just might be right on that one, H,” Jeff’s smile was almost as wide as Harry’s as they congratulated each other. “We need to celebrate properly,” he pulled out his phone and started to text people. “I’m thinking a party to commemorate the day our very own Harry Styles finished his second album.”

“An award winning album,” Harry joked, closing his eyes and lounging back in his seat with his hands behind his head. 

It felt like a weight had lifted off his chest. He’d been stuck in the worst sort of writer's block for the last couple of weeks, unable to even step foot inside a studio or pick up a pen. It had made him almost unbearable to be around. But now it was done and Harry could breathe again. 

He let a small smile perk up his lips as basked in the peacefulness that only a completed song - a perfect song - could bring him. 

He doesn’t know how long he stayed like that before the doors opened again. He sat up, a smile still fixed firmly on his face, expecting Jeff to walk through the doors. When he saw Nick’s gangly figure walking in instead his smile grew even bigger. 

“Grimmy, I did it!” he called out, standing up to give him a hug. 

“Finally finished the album, huh?” he lifted a fond brow, giving Harry an equally fierce and excited hug. 

“Yup,” he puffed out his chest proudly. 

“Congrats, Haz,” Nick patted him on the shoulder, glancing around the room searching for someone. 

“Jeff’s in another room organising a party,” Harry explained, letting himself fall back into the lounge. 

But Nick shook his head. “I’m looking for your better half,” he turned back to Harry curiously. “I thought for sure she’d be here with you, being disgustingly cute as always,” he joked. 

Harry’s face fell instantly. “Fuck.”

“What?” Nick frowned at him, watching the colour drain from Harry’s face. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cursed, scrambling around and looking for his phone. He’d switched it off and thrown it to the side as soon as he’d entered the studio not wanting to get distracted by anything. “I fucked up,” he looked up at Nick in a panic while his phone rebooted. “What time is it?”

“What did you do?” Nick asked, the smile dropping from his own lips as he looked down at his watch and answered. “Just after 10pm.” 

“Can you please call her for me?” he asked, getting frustrated at how long it was taking for his phone to switch back on. 

“Call her? Isn’t she here with you?”

“I wouldn’t be so fucking stressed if she was, would I?” he glared at Nick, finally able to unlock his phone and open up y/n’s contact information and hit call. 

“You didn’t pick her up?” Nick asked, disapproval rich in his voice. 

“I forgot!” Harry pulled the phone away from her ear and redialled her number again. “She’s not answering,” he frowned worriedly.

“You forgot.” Nick stated, unsure what else to say. “How could you forget?” 

“I don’t know! I was so focused on finishing this album. I haven’t been able to write anything for weeks, you know this. It was only going to be a quick stop and then I was gonna leave and head straight to the hospital. Fuck. She’s still not picking up,” he looked at his phone worriedly, scrolling through all the missed texts he hadn't read and all the calls that had gone straight to voicemail because he’d had his phone off. “What do I do?”

Nick didn’t know what to say. He felt for his friend but he also knew that he deserved to feel this bad for leaving y/n waiting for him so long in the dark. 

“Can you call her?” Harry asked him, his green eyes wide with worry. “She might answer you,” he pleaded and Nick didn’t have it in him to deny the request. Besides, he was just as worried for her at that moment. The hospital she worked at wasn’t exactly in the safest part of town and y/n always hated finishing after dark. 

She answered him after a few rings and he let out a relieved breath until he heard her hiccup on the other end of the line. “Babe?” he asked quietly, voice soft over the phone. “You ok?” 

“N-no,” she told him, honestly. “Not really.” 

Nick took a step away from Harry when he reached for the phone, trying to take it off him and speak to his girl. He’d obviously heard her voice on the other end of the line and hadn’t liked what he’d listened in on. He followed Nick. “Gimme the phone, Grimmy,” he hissed, once again trying to reach for the mobile device. His worry was growing with every second he spent not in contact with y/n. 

Piss off, Nick mouthed at Harry and moved further away. 

But Harry continued to follow. How could he not? He could clearly hear his girl crying on the phone and he knew it was all his fault. 

“Hey, love,” Nick said to her softly, rolling his eyes at Harry. “Harold wants to talk to you.” 

“No,” he voice was firm this time, losing the hiccups and stuttering but not the sadness. “I don’t want to talk to him right now. I don’t think I’ll want to talk to him for a long time.” 

“Y/n…,” Nick began, turning away from Harry when he saw his friend flinch and lowered his voice as he once again tried to move away. This time Harry kept his distance. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do,” she said firmly. “I mean it very much.” 

“Y/n, are you drunk?” Nick asked suddenly as she hiccuped again, this time a slight slur to her words. 

“Nooooo,” she extended the word and that was all the confirmation he needed. 

“Y/n, where are you?” He asked suddenly, hoping she’d say she was at home in the apartment she and Harry shared. 

“Dunno,” she said instead, no real worry in her words. 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Nick asked her a little more urgently, glancing over at Harry. He was frowning, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths the way it always did when he was worried or stressed. 

“Give me the phone, Nick,” Harry spoke through his teeth, holding out a hand for the phone. 

Wait, Nick mouthed at Harry knowing if he handed over the phone now, y/n would just hang up. 

“Y/n,” he spoke gently down the phone, slowing his words into a soothing drawl. “You need to tell me where you are and who you’re with so I can come and get you, yeah?” 

“No,” she said stubbornly, and now that Nick was listening carefully, he could hear cars driving by in the background and imagined she was stumbling around outside, drunk and alone. He knew Harry was thinking the same as his fists were curled up beside him and his cheeks had turned pink. He was angry now, but his eyes gave away his worry. “I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna see Ha-him.” 

“Aww, come on, love. Don’t be like that,” Nick soothed, while Harry flinched back at y/n’s tone. She hadn’t even been able to say his name. “He got distracted finishing his album, he didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sure it won’t happen again.”  

“‘At’s what he said last time,” she said, this time her voice soft and filled with hurt. “Last time and the time before and the time before that. He always forgets everything.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Nick replied, doubtfully looking over at Harry. 

“It is true. Ask him. He’s there with you listening to everything. Ask him where he was on our second anniversary and his birthday dinner last year that I begged to take time off work for. Ask him where he was when I graduated and what he was doing when I asked him to come to my work’s Christmas party last year. He’s always late or doesn’t show up at all. I waited for him for an hour today before I gave up and Kiera invited me out for drinks,” she paused and took a deep breath, letting out a scoff before she spoke again. “I bet he doesn’t even know who that is. You know he never asks me about my day unless I ask him about his first. He doesn’t ask me anything about who I spent my time with or what I did that day. All he talks about is the song he wrote and how good or bad it was, about how Mitch and Sarah did something so talented I missed out on a magical moment, about how he’s going on tour soon and didn’t even ask me if I could come with him.”

“Harry?” Nick quizzed, looking over at his friend. “Tell me she’s exaggerating.” 

But Harry shook his head. He hadn’t realised how far down his list of priorities y/n had fallen until he’d heard her drunk, broken voice over the phone. He’d stood her up on their anniversary that year, having had a long day of meetings with his management, he’d gone straight home and fallen asleep in his suit. He’d woken up to y/n walking into their bedroom, heels in her hands and a small, sad smile on her face. She’d stroked his head and asked him if he’d had a long day and he’d nodded, told her she looked nice and how he hoped she’d had a good time at whatever event she’d been at. Y/n’s smile had tightened and she’d just urged him to go back to sleep and get some rest. He hadn’t even realised it had been their anniversary until a few days later when Gemma had asked him what he’d gotten her. 

He’d seen in her eyes how hurt she’d been when he’d finally given her a present, but it had been too late. He’d known it then and swore he’d never mess up so badly again. 

But he had. 

Over and over again. 

She was right. He’d missed almost every single milestone in her life and she’d never missed a single one of his. 

He’d been taking her for granted for so long, he’d just assumed she’d leave her job behind and come on tour with him indefinitely, even though he knew how hard she’d worked to get to where she was. He was so proud of her, and he didn’t think she even knew that, because she was right. 

He’d shown up late to her graduation, hadn’t met any of her colleagues or attended any of her work events, even after she’d asked him over and over again - he’d always promised her next time, but next time never came and eventually she’d stopped asking. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d asked her about her life. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, running his hands through his hair in distress. He was worried and guilty and all he wanted was for y/n to be next to him, her cute little smile on her face as they cuddled so closely they may as well have been glued together. 

He grabbed the phone from Nick’s hands before he could move it away again, holding it close to his ear and dancing away from his friend as he spoke down the line. “I’m so, so sorry, Sweets,” he said gently. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He prayed she believed him.

There was no response on the other end of the line, just some heavy breathing and in his mind’s eye, Harry could just see his girl taking deep breaths to try and keep herself from crying, to try and keep herself calm. It was something she’d done from the very first time they’d had a fight and he’d seen her cry. He’d hated seeing it then and he hated hearing it even more now. Especially when he heard her sniffle quietly, as though she’d moved the phone away to try and hide her tears from him. 

“Please don’t cry,” he begged her anyway when still no reply had come through, but Harry was hopeful that she hadn’t hung up the phone yet like she’d promised she would. “I hate it when you cry.” He didn’t mention how much worse it was when he was the reason she cried this way. 

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Ha-Harry,” she sighed. “Give the phone ba-back to Grimmy.” 

“No,” he said firmly, clenching his teeth and pacing back and forth while his other hand brushed through his hair trying to shake out some of the tension in his limbs. “No,” he repeated more gently this time. “Please, just tell me where you are so I can come and get you?” I just want to make sure you’re safe, he thought to himself. 

“Don’t wanna see you. Why can’t you just leave me alone when I want you to? You haven’t been around for weeks and now you want to pretend to care?” she asked him harshly. 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as his shoulders hunched inwards. He’d had his heart broken before, but never had it felt so painful before; as though he’d never be able to put himself back together again. “I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately. I know I’ve been forgetful and neglected you. I know. But please, Sweets, can we just talk face to face? Please, just - just let Grimmy pick you up.”

Y/n was silent on the other end of the line for a couple of heartbeats before she let out a choked sob. “You forgot me,” she murmured. “You didn’t answer any of my phone calls or texts. You didn’t even - sometimes it feels like you don’t love me anymore,” she admitted. “Sometimes it feels like you’re only with me because it’s easier than breaking up.” 

“That’s not - no. Y/n, no. You can’t believe that. You can’t think that. You know - you have to know that’s not true,” Harry implored, stopping his pacing in the middle of the room. He looked completely lost, as though just the idea of not having y/n around made him question his place in the world. 

“Please give the phone to Grimmy, Harry,” y/n finally said. “I’ll tell him where I am. I - I think I want to stay with him tonight. Please don’t come over,” she said. “I really don’t want to talk anymore tonight. I have a headache and I’m tired.” 

Harry took in and let out a shaky breath, handing the phone back over to Nick. “Here,” he said, walking back over to the couch dejectedly and falling into it. It was a big contrast to the way he’d collapsed into it earlier with all the joy of a completed album sitting like a crown on his head. Now his whole world was falling apart in front of him. 

He thought of the rings he’d been looking at. He thought of all the times he’d walked past a jewellery store and itched to walk out with an engagement ring. He thought of all their friends who were having kids and how the only person he could see himself having a family with was y/n. And he thought about how everything was being snatched out from under him because he’d been so selfish the last couple of months. How he’d been growing more and more selfish over the last year of their relationship. 

He had to fix this. 

He didn’t know how, but he would fix this. 

“I’m gonna go get her,” Nick spoke softly, tapping Harry on the shoulder. “You should get home and get some rest too,” he told him. 

“I’m going to fix this,” Harry said to Nick, desperation thick in his words.

“I know you will, mate. I know you will,” Nick ruffled his hair fondly and walked out the room, leaving Harry sitting dejectedly on the couch. 

-

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#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry #harry styles angst #angst #harry angst #one direction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry imagine #harry one shot #1dff

[karahofthedawn]

You Owe Us One (part 3) - The Blindfold

Fred Weasley/George Weasley x fem reader

Fred and George slip you a note and ask you to meet them. What they have in store for you is more than you had expected.

Contains: Smut, threesome, light bdsm, vaginal and oral sex.

Length: 4.7k words

Also thank you to all who read 💜 It means a lot. :)

There was no denying it, you were craving whatever Fred Weasley had in store for you. The twins hadn't given you a day or time of when you were to meet again. So the few days after George took you in Snape's Storeroom were filled with pining and anticipation.

Then on Friday morning when Fred bumped into you on your way to class, you felt a piece of parchment slip into your hand. He gave a quick wink and a hurried apology before disappearing with George and the other Gryffindors down the corridor. You found a private corner and opened the note as quickly as you could.

What was scribbled in the center made your heart leap in your chest.

Tonight, 10pm, our spot. Don't be late.

You quickly folded the paper and shoved it deep within your bag. This time felt different. You had time to prepare.

The rest of the day flew by as your mind remained focused on what was ahead. Fred and George were going to meet with you, and they had said you owed them one yet again - well, specifically Fred. Last time that was the case you ended up between the both of them. Is that what would happen this time as well or did Fred have something special planned?

You tried your best to not to get anxious as you got ready later that evening. The other girls in the dorm tried to question you, but you made the excuse that you had to find the perfect makeup for the upcoming Yule Ball. They seemed to accept this, as they then turned their attention amongst themselves on what dresses they had picked out.

As the excited chattering took over the room, you closed the curtains and began picking out exactly what to wear. You decided on a pair of black jeans and a sweater with the yellow Hufflepuff crest on the chest. Underneath all of that is what mattered the most, with a lacy red bra and matching panties. 

Once you were ready to leave, you looked yourself over in the mirror. You felt good about this, nervous, but confident.

Even though sneaking out was never a problem, you left a little earlier just to be sure that any snags along the way wouldn't hinder the time. After all, they did say not to be late.

That's where it leaves you now. It is just about 9:55 from the last time you checked your watch. The hallways are empty and dark, just as they always are once all students are to be with their respective houses. Your footsteps echo as you reach the blank stone wall that serves as the entrance to the passage. With a flick of your wand and the words that the twins taught you, the door appears. 

Most of the day you were able to keep your nerves to a simmer, but now they were raising. Your stomach fills with butterflies as you approach the room that had that familiar fire glow escaping from its uneven hinges. You raise your arm, unsure if you should knock or not. They're expecting you, so it's no surprise when choice was made for you as Fred swings the door open and gestures for you to come in.

"Right on time," he says with a tinge of amusement as he glances down at his watch.

The room was smaller than you remember, but you take it was due to the rearranging they had done since your last visit. The table was now pushed to the far right with the boxes and cauldrons organized on top. The red couch was now accompanied by an old metal framed bed with what looks like freshly cleaned sheets on top. The headboard was a copper steel with different twists and turns, making the pattern almost spiral in shape.

This must have been why it took so long for them to reach back out to you. They were preparing whatever this was. You jump as George places both hands on your shoulders.

"Oh don't worry," he laughs. "Snape can't find us here."

You shrug him off and turn on your heel to face him. Your heart is pounding as he smiles down at you, his cool and relaxed expression the same as always. 

Fred steps next to him and they share a quick glance, then he says, "Well, let's get comfortable, shall we?" He takes your hand and leads you to the couch, his brother tailing right behind.

You try to remain present, fighting the lingering memories that come with this exact spot on this red cushion. You rub your sweating palms together as they perch themselves on either side of you. Fred wraps his arm firmly around your waist and pulls you to him. George lays his hand gingerly on your knee and observes as his brother begins to speak.

"So I've been thinking long and hard about just how you could repay me. You know, with me saving you from expulsion and all," Fred starts off smoothly.

"Right," you say with amusement, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice. "So does George owe you too since you did the same for him?"

Fred's forehead creases and he shoots a puzzled look to his brother. "Well, no-"

"Then I don't understand why you keep saying that I -" he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

"You're ruining the mystique," he says and removes his arm from around you, then gets up. He stands in front of the fireplace, gazing into the crackling flames with his hands tucked in his pockets. You look to his brother, who just leans back and watches with a curling grin.

"So," you say after a quick clearing of your throat. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well," Fred starts off quietly at first, the outline of his hair glowing from the flames. "I thought we'd play a game."

You furrow your brows and cross your arms. "A game? What, like chess?"

"No," he replies with a chuckle. Then withdraws a long black piece of fabric from his pocket. It was shiny, and you can tell even from a distance that it is made from silk. He turns and steps to you, then drops to his knees. "But it's very simple."

You eye him silently as he flips your hands and places the cloth right on your palms. As your fingers glide over the soft material, it dawns on you what it is. "A.. blindfold?"

"What a smart girl," George coos and strokes your hair.

You blush and stare down at the blindfold, then back up at Fred. "Okay I wear this, then what?"

Fred beams at you. "Then you will be tested on how well you know us."

"I- I'm" you stammer and look between the twins. "I'm not sure I follow."

George leans forward and delicately places his fingertips on your pale wrists. "You have to guess which one of us is touching you," he explains. "Isn't it brilliant? We came up with it just last night."

"I guess" you say with hesitance. "But, what if I get it wrong?"

"So this is where it gets interesting," Fred says with excitement riddled in his voice. "You see that bed over there? It's not an ordinary one, let me tell you."

"It has a specific jinx that we added to it," George continues. "I think it would be easier if we showed you." His brother nods and steps to the bedside. 

"Fred, what color is the sky?" George asks.

"Emerald green." Within seconds of his answer, a rope shoots out from one of the corners of the mattress and wraps around his arm. Your mouth shoots open and you squirm against the cushion. 

George squeezes your leg and smiles at you. "Don't worry," he says. "If at any time you're uncomfortable we can stop."

"So what do you say?" Fred returns to you and holds his hand out. "Do you think you could handle the challenge?"

Your pulse races as you look between the boys and the bed. They watch you patiently as you mull over the idea in your head. It was definitely not what you had expected, not that you were against the idea at all. You had never been restrained before, so the idea of being completely at their will was both intimidating and exciting.

What felt like an hour of deliberation (even though it was likely 2 minutes), you nod and say, "I'll play your game."

You take Fred's hand and he helps you to your feet. "Wonderful!" He exclaims and leads you to the edge of the bed and gestures for you to sit again.

You do as you're told, and the mattress bends a little under your weight. It was comfortable enough, though the box spring underneath creaked with defiance when George sits next to you. He takes the black silk that is entwined in your fingers and places it on his lap and folds it evenly.

"We will start out simple," Fred explains as he brother slips the blindfold over your eyes. Everything is dark now, and you're more aware than ever of the heat building below your naval. "First, let's - oh George, don't get her hair tied in with it."

There's a slight tug from your scalp and the knot loosens. "Sorry, I got it," he says quickly and then backs off the bed. You are sitting alone now, but you can feel their presence as they stand in front of you.

Fred continues, "right then, so let's begin with just our hands. There will be no talking from us, and you will have 30 seconds to guess who is who." 

Your cheek is gently caressed and you lean into their palm. "Are you ready, y/n?"

"Yes," you say simply, and the warmth disappears.

The tension in the room is so thick as you wait for the first test. Both of the approach you and your chest flutters with excitement as you listen for movement or any kind of cue. The breath you hold escapes your lips as someone brushes your neck. Their fingertips trail to your jawline and back to the collar of your sweater.

As they explore more of your exposed skin, you take notice of how purposeful they are with their movements. They stop at the threshold of your clothing and brush over the tender spots of your neck with gentle precision.

The other hand joins in, gliding their palm up your arm and to your side then over your stomach. There is more pressure beneath their touch, they feel needy and demanding as they slip beneath your sweater. They grip your ribs right below your bra line with enough force to make you gasp and lean forward into them.

“Fred,” you say breathily, looking up blindly at where you hear a soft laugh.

“Very good,” one of them says.

“Hey,” a voice comes from your right. “Can I take this off?” There’s a tug at the hem of your sweater and you nod in response. You lift your arms and allow them to slide it off over your head. The cold air hits your skin in an instant and a shiver rolls down your body, which is then replaced by gentle kisses over your bare torso from both sides.

“Fuck, Y/N.” You recognize this as Fred’s voice. “Did you wear that for us?”

You turn away and bite your lip. This wasn’t your first time with them, but admitting that you were dressing to please them just feels embarrassing. I suppose sitting blindfolded and practically topless didn’t help the matter. You give a quick, “I don’t know what you mean.” Something coils around your wrist. “What is-”

“It knows when you’re lying too. Did we not tell you that?” George says calmly, but you can hear the smile in what he’s saying.

The rope reels itself back so quickly that it drags you a few inches on your back. “I-I’m not really sure about this,” you say shakily. Your arm is completely pinned against the bed and you claw at it with your free hand.

“It’s perfectly safe,” one of them assures you, their fingers creeping down your sides and stops over the buttons on your pants. It was impossible to tell them apart now with your heart beating so hard against your ribs. “But if you want us to stop, you can tell us.”

You take a few deep breaths and allow the adrenaline to pass. You trust them. You aren’t entirely sure why, but you do. There was a yearning for them so deep in your soul since the moment that they fucked you that you knew that you’d do anything to feel that way again. The sinking at the edge of the bed tells you that they are both sitting there, inches away, probably staring directly at your half nude body. You let go of your binded arm and let your hand fall to the side. You’re slightly embarrassed from your reaction and try to will away the blush that was creeping up your neck.

There was a tapping and tugging on your jeans button again. “May we?” That was George - no, Fred. Somehow you couldn’t even hear the difference in their voices now, which was so easy before. You say yes, and you lift your hips to allow them to slip it off.

“Merlin’s beard, look at you” one of the twins exclaims and you bite back a laugh.

“You can say that again,” the other one says and runs a hand up your bare leg, leaving you with gooseflesh all over your body. “You ready to continue?”

You give one final tug at your arm, then relax your body. “Yes,” you say calmly.

One of them was on your left, the other on your right. You feel breath tickle your cheek and turn your head to the left, lips immediately meet yours. Your lips part and one of the brother’s tongues slips and rolls in your mouth. He grips your jaw and holds your face still as he breathes you in, tilting his head to get even deeper in your mouth. You press your thighs together and a shaky breath escapes right as your attention is snapped to the other side.

The other brother’s mouth was now on you, his hands strong and fingers digging into your hips. He tastes sweeter, you note to yourself. Your brain was getting hazy as your veins exploded with lust as both of them grind against you. It was hard to tell which pair of hands belong to who as they pull you in both directions. You do your best to keep your head on straight as you fight back the hungry kisses from the brother on the right. He pulls your chest flush against his, your arm still pinned down from the rope underneath him.

Your bra clasp is pinched and you feel the straps become loose around you. Then the twin on the right joins in behind you, pressing his hardening cock against your ass. You curve your spine as the man in front of you sinks his teeth into your neck. Your nails rake down his back and you gasp out, “Fred!”

There was a shake of a head, and within seconds your other arm got tangled within the magic rope. You are laying on your back now, and they are both on top of you. One lifts your bra and kisses your nipple gently. His tongue flicks sharply and he nips, making you moan and wriggle. The other is still kissing you with his hand heavy on your thigh.

“Well, so far,” he says when he pulls back from your face. “You’re at a 50% success rate.”

“Not bad,” the other brother says, then goes back to sucking hard on your nipple.

“Fuck!” You yell out and they both laugh, then stand from the bed. You know this is meant to throw you off, but even if they didn’t take that extra step - you completely lost track of them at this point anyway. The idea alone sounded easy when Fred explained it, but now it just seemed impossible.

The mattress sinks as they position themselves on either side of you. Fingers tangle through your hair and grasp you at the base of the skull, forcing your head to tilt to the side. His thumb stops over your lips and then parts them, the pad of his finger pressing down on your tongue. His grip releases, and he caresses your face gingerly. There’s pressure on your lips again, this time larger and hotter than a finger. You know at once what he’s asking you to do and open your mouth and take him in.

The head of his cock stops over your tongue and you respond by twirling around it before bobbing back and forth. His taste makes your mouth water as he guides your head with his hand on your cheek. This felt familiar, as you did have George in your mouth before, but it was a different pace completely. He inches in further, your gag reflex threatening to trigger as he reaches the back of your throat.

You jump as a hand lands on your thighs. The tips of their fingers getting achingly close to your panties. Another hand joins in on your right leg now, and they both move down together in perfect sync. You choke on a gasp as one pulls your panties down and the other puts a hand over your slick folds.

The twin’s cock pulls out of your mouth completely, then you are guided to the other side where the other begins to do the same. This one with more vigor as he holds the back of your neck with force. He shoves himself completely down your throat with careful precision, fighting through your coughs and whines. He pulls out and a finger slides up your slit, pausing at your pulsating nub.

You take him in again, drool and tears stream down your face as he makes your head bob back and forth. He lets out a soft groan, and your body shakes in response. You love making them feel good. You love how wanted and sexy you feel when you are in their presence. Every part of you ached for them to use you exactly how they wanted.

Is this really what I like? You question yourself before one of them removes their finger from your folds. You whimper and pathetically try to grab with your restrained hands.

Do I enjoy letting them toy with me like this? The answer comes to you as clear as day as soon as you feel a tongue split your cunt and land right on your clit.

Yes. Yes, I do. And I’m theirs forever.

The twin in your mouth pulls out and you let out a shriek of pleasure. “George,” you yell with tremors filling your body.

“Good girl,” he says before continuing to work on you.

It was like static was building up in your legs and core as he laps at you. His strong wet tongue against you made you shake and contort. You felt his cheeks harden against your thighs and you knew he was smiling.

He pulls back and they both get off the bed again, leaving you helpless and pathetically quaking. Your wrists and cunt both ache for release. You hear them whispering, but could only pick up small pieces of the conversation.

“I mean it’s fucking amazing-”

“I agree-”

“Could fuck her all night-”

“Quidditch practice-”

You scrunch your face up and turn your head to them as Fred yells, “are you really thinking about quidditch right now?”

George says in a quiet voice, “no.”

There was a sigh, and you imagine Fred rubbing his face with both of his hands with George looking sheepish at him. You want to ask, but figure it’s better to not ruin the mood. Not that they’d tell you anyway.

Another whisper and you saw a flash from the bottom of the blindfold. Your wrists were free and you immediately start to rub, what you assume, would be reddened and slightly bruised skin. Just before you get the chance to ask if the game is over, the ropes wrap around your ankles and knees and pull them down against the mattress. You lift your head and prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Relax, relax,” you recognize as George cooing. “You’ve come this far and you’re doing so good.”

You fall back again and stare up into the abyss of the blindfold. Your legs are quaking from both the restraints and anticipation as you wait for them.

“Last test,” Fred announces and they both approach the bed side. “If you get this right, I’ll untie you. If not, then you stay like this until we are all done.”

“Okay,” you say while rubbing at your wrists. Your heart races as you feel the mattress sink with both of their weights.

One of them leans over you, their hips between your legs. You wiggle in excitement as you feel the tip of their cock separate you. A finger lands on your clit and slap your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan. The other brother wraps his fingers around your sore wrists and moves them to the side. They like to hear you every sound you make, you know this, but you still can’t help but feel shy about it.

The brother on top of you circles his thumb over your soaked nub and begins to slowly penetrate you. You let out a soft whine as he enters you. You curve your back and rock your hips against him. The boy curses under his breath and continues to push even further inside. Your walls constrict and grip him, his full girth making you feel like he was completely splitting you open. Each thrust he made was tender and gentle. You could feel his eyes on you, scanning up and down your body as you writhe underneath him.

You make a mental effort to relax your muscles as he fully enters you. His are pressing against yours, his throbbing cock temporarily buried deep within you. He leans down and kisses you, pulling out slightly and then grinding back against you. Your cries are being muffled from his tongue that is now probing your mouth. Blood rushes to your cunt as he continues to work on you with tiny circles over your clit with the pad of his finger.

You tangle your fingers into his hair and turn your head to break the kiss. Both of the twins were similar in how they loved to build you up, but there was a controlled hesitation and tenderness that only one of them had mastered.

“George. You’re George,” you moan.

A soft kiss lands on your cheek, his cock still fully sheathed inside of your quavering pussy. “Good job,” he says sweetly. “Now do you want me to untie you?”

“No,” you say with his face in your hands. “But please let me see you.”

George does as you ask and slips up the blindfold, his perfect face coming into view. Fred was to the side of you, grinning from ear to ear while massaging his erection slowly while watching his brother take you. You reach over and take him in your hands, mimicking the same speed he was going, looking directly into his fiery eyes.

The muscles in your legs burn and shake from being pulled apart so far. You were flexible, but the ropes almost seem to know exactly what a person’s limit is and would go just over the threshold. George picks up his pace. You look down to admire how beautiful his body looks slamming into yours. You could see the muscles under his ribs tighten every time he would thrust forward.

Watching him almost sends you over the edge completely, but you hold back. Your walls quake and constrict him tighter than ever, and he looks down at you with sweat running down his face. “Come on, Y/N. Let go for me,” he says sweetly. You try to hold it back even more, letting him edge you with his hands and cock. The heat was building, and your vision was beginning to go blurry. 

Fred reaches out and touches your breast tenderly, then grabs you by the throat. “If he tells you to cum you better do it then, shouldn’t you?”

“F-Fuck,” you scream out and crane your neck back, the top of your head pressing into the pillow. All of your muscles tense, and shockwaves travel through your torso and to your limbs. Your cunt pulsates and squeezes, sending George over at the same time. He slumps forward, your lips meeting at once.

He shakes and you feel some of his cum start to seep out of you and travel down your ass. He carefully pulls out and hovers over you for a moment. “You’re perfect,” he whispers in your ear. You respond with a quick kiss, before he rolls over on his side to get off of you.

You ask gently to Fred, who is still hard in your hands. “Untie me, please.”

He nods and grabs his wand from the bedsheets and flicks it at the ropes. With a quick murmur, you are finally free from its grasp. You get to your knees and pull Fred into a hungry kiss, pushing him back so that he was against the metal headboard. You assume it has to be cold, but he didn’t seem to notice or even care about that.

He watches you with a smirk as you straddle him, his hard erection already lining perfectly up with your opening. 

“I believe I owe you this,” you say smartly as you ease down onto him. This time, he gasps, and you bite your lip with pride. You were going to make him wish he owed you every day of the week forever. Maybe then he would stay up late at night thinking of you the way you did of them.

You whimper as he pushes his hips back up towards you, and you grind back and forth and side to side in response. Riding him is like nothing else that you have ever experienced. He doesn’t just give up control, you have to fight him for it. He grabs you by the back of the hair and pulls you down so far that your back arches. You feel your ass jump every time he thrusts from under you.

Fred’s face is flushed and jaw slacked open as his hips stop and he lets you finally take full control. You tilt your pelvis and rock your hips as you glide up and down his cock. His one hand leaves the bruising skin on your hips and plays with your clit again. Your legs spasm and dig your nails into his bare chest so that you could keep a steady rhythm.

The build up was so fast, that your second orgasm hit you out of nowhere, leaving you crumbling on his chest. He holds you close to his chest by wrapping both arms around your lower back. Fred continues to slam into your quaking walls, the overstimulation making you see stars as you cry out helplessly. You can feel him start to shake as well as he reaches his peak. Your chest fills with fire as he lets out a loud grunt and grips the back of your hair. Semen pumps inside of you, and you shudder from the sensation of his cock pulsating.

With weak legs, you unmount him and collapse between Fred and George. You weren’t sure if you would even have the strength to make it back to your dorm tonight. They seem to have the same thought and embrace you from both sides.

“Now this,” Fred says with sleepiness heavy in his voice, “is how you spend a Friday night.”

George chuckles and moves a strand of hair from your red face. “You really are something special, Y/N,” he says softly, seemingly ignoring his brother's comment. Your heart misses a beat and you melt into their arms. 

That’s where you spent the next two hours falling in and out of sleep in between the Weasley twins. Then at 3AM, they lead you back to the HufflePuff common room and each leave you with a tender kiss on both cheeks.

Even though it wasn’t specifically stated, you know you’ll be seeing them again.

Probably even sometime soon.

#george weasley smut #fred weasley smut #fred and george weasley #fred and george weasley smut #harry potter smut #fred and george weasley x reader

[superficialdomina]

Missed connection Part 3

Summary: A drink, some smut, and a goodbye.

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: RPF. 18+; smut. PIV, unprotected. Ethical-ish non-monogamy/infidelity. Mentions of alcohol. Language.

AN: Thank you all for waiting. It's so good to be writing again! This is the genuine final chapter. Promise.

As for part 2, this story is happening in a fictional AU where Tom is single, available and a little bit lonely - not his actual, and obviously joyful and satisfying, real life.

Word count: 5.1k (sorry...)

“Whoa.” The word fell from your mouth with a slow exhale, as you took in the beautiful, ancient building in front of you. The Palazzo Intimo. The Intimate Palace.

You glanced nervously down at the elegant, spidery writing on your own business card; needlessly, since you’d memorised the words casually scrawled there. Palazzo Intimo. 10pm.

*****

“I hope we’re not done,” you had murmured, fingertips seeking to pull him close. But even as he had leant in to kiss you softly, you’d felt his body pull away. Confused, you’d lifted your eyes to his face, where sweet concern was etched across a sad smile. …Wh…What?

He had bitten his lower lip, which still glistened with your body’s wetness. “I… I can’t stay, I’m afraid.” You had felt the glow of orgasm begin to fade like the heat of his body where he had moved away. “I’m sorry.”

Wait, what?

“I am… supposed to be somewhere,” he’d continued over your silent perplexion. “I’m already quite late -” so what’s another twenty minutes!? “- And I’d hate to - to rush away... Afterwards.”

Oh.

He had stood then, and, a sense of humiliation rising, you’d tried to straighten your tousled clothing to cover your naked lower half. But he’d laughed affectionately, drawn the loose edge of the bedcovers over you, and picked up the pen on your nightstand. A pile of your business cards, carelessly strewn after the final conference session, lay scattered there; he took one, and wrote in the small space above your name.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He’d asked as he scribbled.

“I-" Tomorrow? "Yes,” you’d managed, breath coming a little fast, still not sure what was happening.

“Meet me,” he’d said, pinning the card back on the nightstand under your pen. His gaze held yours. “Please.”

You wanted to protest; this line was too fine for your clumsy feet. But he had smiled down at you - dazzlingly, beautifully, reassuringly. And so you’d nodded, and he’d kissed you again, and delicately brushed your face with his long, fine fingers. “Tomorrow, then,” he’d murmured.

You had watched him gracefully descend the mezzanine stairs to your kitchen. Watched him retrieve his discarded shirt from your floor, and his still-damp hoodie from the back of your chair. Turning the door handle, he'd looked back up to you, lying still on your barely-mussed sheets, and given you the tiniest wink. Then he was gone, and you were alone in the echoing silence, your skin still tingling from his touch.

He hadn't even taken his shoes off.

*****

Of course, you’d Googled the Palazzo Intimo immediately. "Padua's most romantic hotel". “Dignified, spacious and charming.” “Allegorical frescoes worthy of the Sistine chapel.” A grand, elegant building worthy of a grand, elegant man. A long way, metaphorically, from a tiny apartment above a bustling café.

And yet not, apparently, a long way in reality. The walk across the Old Town had been surprisingly short; you were a few minutes early. Which was fortunate, as your feet seemed to need a moment before they could carry you through the ornate front doors.

Now what? You berated yourself sternly. What’s the rest of your plan? Just walk up to the front desk and ask for him?

The night city was abuzz with energy and noise. Bright street lights illuminated the aged cobblestones, where throngs of pedestrians and bicycles maneuvered by one another in polite mayhem. Music spilling from several open-air restaurants mingled with chatter in a tuneless, though not-unpleasant, mess. The confusion made it hard to think.

It was one thing to invite him to your apartment on a whim, or to silently accept the pleasure he offered in the surreal heat of the moment. But this - arranging to meet him at his hotel room, knowing fully what you intended to do there. This was… deliberate.

Why was it bothering you so much? I am not breaking the rules! you repeated to yourself for the hundredth time.

But you remembered his vulnerability as he’d read you an obscure Ursula Le Guinn passage in a still, quiet train carriage; remembered the longing you’d felt after he’d left your apartment, which was heavier than just residual arousal. You caught sight of your reflection in one of the Palazzo’s large, dark windows, remembering how long you'd spent getting ready to come here. Am I?

The ancient bells of San Antonio’s church began to peel across the city. 10pm. Now or never. You stepped across the precipice into the dark and quiet of the Palazzo.

As you did so, you realised that you still didn’t have an answer to your earlier quandary. What DO I do next? He hadn’t given you a room number, and even if he had, you doubted you could simply walk up to his door. Surely you couldn't just ask at reception? They would laugh you out of the building.

Or maybe they wouldn't, a venomous voice whispered in your mind. Maybe he'd had "visitors" every night he'd been here.

Once again, you spotted him before he saw you, although this time you wondered if he had orchestrated it thus. His long, lean frame leant casually against the far wall, hands in pockets, face shadowed in the romantically low light. You stared at him, warmth humming between your thighs, lips parted shamelessly.

He was - there was no other way to describe it - dressed up. His well-tailored suit pants fit tight to his sculpted lower body. One foot, clad in a dark leather dress shoe, rested lightly against the wall; even at this distance, the solid outline of the quadriceps of his supporting leg was clearly visible through the fabric. His crisp, white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the deep dip of his jugular notch, with sleeves oh-so-casually rolled up to his elbows revealing long, sinewy forearms. Perfectly tousled curls tumbled gracefully across his forehead, and - oh Gods, it was kryptonite - grey reading glasses elegantly rested on his long, straight nose, as he gazed at the floor, lost in thought.

He was utterly, unbearably, beautiful.

Your heart raced as feelings of insecurity blossomed within you. The Palazzo seemed anything but intimate; the high ceiling and dark lighting felt like a cave, and you were small and insignificant in its ancient grandeur. You felt decidedly underdressed in your simple cotton dress and flat sandals. His shoes probably cost more than my entire outfit, that toxic voice whispered again. He hasn't seen me yet. I could still leave...

Maybe he heard your thudding heartbeat, or the snaking voice in your mind. Maybe he had simply heard the peeling of the bells across the city - whatever the cause, he raised his eyes, catching you on the verge of fleeing. He straightened, removing his hands from his pockets, and gracefully strode towards you.

"Hello," he smiled softly as he reached you. "I'm so glad you've come."

His affect was as different to the last time you had seen him as his outfit; decorous, controlled, composed, like a persona he'd put on as he'd buttoned his shirt. You searched his face for a hint of the wildly amorous man who had placed his hands on your hips in your small kitchen. He placed a gentlemanly hand on your upper arm, and leaned in to chastely kiss your cheek. As though his fingers had never been inside me, you thought.

You swallowed, searching for your voice. "Hi, Tom," you stammered, feeling your skin rise in goosebumps at his touch. His smile was easy, but genuine; the peek of his teeth below his top lip made your fizzing nerves begin to fade, replaced by a different low-belly effervescence. He reflexively pushed his glasses up his nose, and your breath caught.

Deliberate.

"Will you join me for a drink?" His hand still on your arm, he indicated a low archway to your left, beyond which you saw a carpeted staircase. You hesitated, confused. A drink? Aren't we here to... to...

"I - sure," you faltered again. He stepped back, his beautiful forearm gesturing you ahead, and you climbed the narrow stairs to a classic Paduan balcony overlooking the thronging street. A small table and chairs sat nestled between flower boxes and wooden shutters. The sounds of music and chatter rose to reach you, but you noted that you were out of the eyeline of anyone in the street itself. Unexpectedly secluded, you thought, with a touch of sarcasm. How romantic.

Angst found you again. This was not what you had anticipated. A quiet knock on a hotel door, whisked into his room before you could be seen; a quick fuck in expensive bed sheets and a hasty, anonymous exit. That was what this was meant to be - wasn't it? You weren't sure exactly what you had expected, you admitted to yourself, but it wasn't this. It wasn't a date.

Eying the flimsy balustrade, you considered how far it was to the cobblestones below, still wondering maniacally if you should attempt an escape.

"Il tuo solito, signore?" A stranger's voice in the open doorway you made you jump. It was a young man dressed all in black, not a hair out of place. Tom was clearly expecting him.

"Si, per favore, Marco," he said, familiarly. The young man turned to you expectantly.

"Ah - aperol spritz, per favore," you added, guessing at his unspoken question and grateful to the staff at your café for their daily language lessons. The waiter nodded politely, and vanished down the dark staircase, leaving the two of you alone. Tom gestured to the chair closest to you, and you nervously perched on the edge of it.

In contrast to your fluttering fears, Tom seemed to radiate confidence. He sat back deep in the wrought iron chair, almost slouching, elbows resting comfortably on its arms, his thighs splayed wide. His face displayed a knowing smile that was just-too-polite to be a smirk, eyes glinting. Player, you thought derisively; 'a perpetual escapee from emotional entanglement', you had once heard him describe himself. And yet, his comfort made you comfortable; in his easy presence, you felt your self relaxing. Maybe he was a player - but tonight he was playing you, and that was oddly exciting.

He was watching you with that familiar, intense gaze. "You look beautiful," he murmured, and you were surprised at how well his voice carried over the noise below; the balcony felt all the more intimate. You felt your cheeks heat, but you held his gaze. Don't look away, you thought. You were not normally coquettish with lovers, and you were determined to be authentic now.

"Thank you," you replied, and your voice was stronger than you expected. "You - you do, too." Ugh. Awkward. You swallowed, willing casual conversation to come to you but finding yourself without the words. Authenticity or not, you still seemed to have nothing to say to him.

Of course, in his easy, cleverly comfortable way, he came to your rescue again.

“Did you finish your book?” he asked you, his hand resting lightly on his chin. You pictured your Bernard Cornwell novel resting on your nightstand, bookmark triumphantly discarded beside it. Had he noticed it there, as he scribbled his invitation on your card?

“I did,” you smiled, not unmoved that he had remembered.

“And? Did you enjoy it any more by the end?”

“I…” You paused, reflecting before you answered. “I did, I think. Some of my favourite characters from earlier in the series returned, and… I guess their motivations became more… real. It was a good ending. I’m glad I stuck it out.”

As you spoke, he absently traced his fingers over his lips, then trailed them down his throat and over his collarbone. You watched, a little transfixed. He was so tactile. You wondered which part of him was enjoying the sensation more - the skin of his face and neck, or the pads of his fingers?

"What will you read next, now that you've finished it?"

"I don't know," you answered truthfully, surprised. "I didn't bring anything else with me. I guess I'll have to pick up something rubbish at the airport for the flight home."

He gave a look of distaste, but was interrupted before he could speak again. The young man - Marco - reappeared, placing a wine glass of blood-orange aperol in front of you, and a squat-sided tumbler before Tom. His glass contained three or four fingers of liquid; from the pale amber colour, you suspected whiskey and water.

"Grazie," you both said in unison; you butchered the pronunciation, while Tom rolled his "r" delightfully, prompting a vivid, unanticipated memory of your body thrashing wildly under his tongue. You felt your cheeks warm again, and the pleasant hum that had lain purring quietly between your legs rose to a gentle roar.

"I have been thinking about your question," Tom began tentatively as the young waiter left, sipping his drink and placing it back on the table.

You were puzzled. Did I ask a question?

"Maybe it wasn't a question," he continued, as though he had heard your thoughts. "But you made me wonder about my - my favourite words. Ever written." He seductively bit his lower lip. Whore, you thought lustily, arousal thudding through your most sensitive places.

But again, you found yourself surprised and touched that he had remembered your conversation.

"It was something you said," he rushed on, looking down at his hands, "about... About accepting our imperfections, that made me... It reminded me of something I read a long time ago that still resonated with me." His rambling was charming, delightful. Designed, no doubt, to enrapture you, and succeeding. He looked up at you, as though waiting for confirmation.

"Spit it out!" You laughed. "I'm on the edge of my seat."

He grinned, took another drink, and leaned back, gazing up at the night sky, and quoted.

"All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life, is made up of light and shadow."

You were thrown; the words were unfamiliar to you. He was looking at you again, willing you to respond, until your hesitation expanded uncomfortably between you.

"Tolstoy," he added, in explanation.

You shook your head, laughing at his surprised look. "Sorry," you added.

He stared at you, bemused. "You can quote The Dispossessed, but you've not read Anna Karenina?" You shook your head again. His disappointment was palpable.

"So tell me," you urged him, still chuckling. "What does it mean? Light and darkness... Like yin and yang? Two sides to every coin, all things opposite but... but complimentary?"

He smiled devilishly, disappointment fading, and you felt that you had fallen into some trap he had set - or at least, predicted. It was exhilarating.

"Not light and darkness," he corrected, leaning forward again with palms pressed eagerly into the table, eyes bright. "Light and shadow."

"I don't-"

"It is not simply that all things have equal and opposite parts." In his excitement to explain, he interrupted you. You didn't mind - there was such a thrill in watching him lose control. "It is that all things have shadow - all things create shadow." He watched you carefully for a reaction as you tried to understand his meaning. "The sun shines on me, and I cast a shadow - and that shadow is a result of my existence. Is proof of my existence."

There was so much passion in his voice as it rose and fell that he was almost singing as he spoke. Dramatist. But you thought you understood. "I think I see. Our darknesses - shadows - are not just an integral part of us, but exemplify our... our..." You hesitated, and he waited for you to finish your thought, eyes alight. "Our humanity."

"Yes!" he said eagerly. "Sorrow, shame, ego - these are the shadows that make us human. They are evidence of our light."

He sat back, smiling to himself, and picked up his glass again, following the slosh of the amber liquid as he swirled it vaguely. It was hypnotic, watching him, momentarily lost in thought. What are your shadows, Tom? you wondered into the silence between you. All dirt and rocks...

"Ah - a beautiful choice," you muttered awkwardly, realising you were staring. Then you laughed again as an idea came to you. "I really thought you were going to quote something from Shakespeare."

"Why?" he half-laughed, playfully. Then he paused, and you watched a mood transition across his face; playful turned to puzzled, then solemn. You felt the energy between you shift rapidly, but were unsure as to its direction. When he spoke, he did so quietly. "Why would you think that?"

Something in his tone gave you warning. Did I say something wrong? "I..." You swallowed, completely lost. "I... I'd just heard - heard you..." Your words froze in your throat as you realised that this was the first time since you'd met in the train carriage that either of you had alluded to... to his fame.

"I'm sorry," you offered. "I don't understand what... what I've said."

He met your eyes again, replacing his glass on the table with a shaky clink.

"No - no, it's me who should be sorry." He forced a small laugh. "I just... I forgot, briefly, who I was."

At last, understanding washed over you. All his veiled hints of sadness and regret. Of longing for something that had long ago been lost.

"It's a strange thing - fame," he continued hollowly, looking down at his hands. You had the sense that you were hearing words long thought, but spoken aloud for the first time. "There's a guilty pleasure in it, in being known. Being... adored. It's - it's addictive." You held your breath, fearful of interrupting his stream of thought. "But it's - hard, too. Keeping your head down. Remaining aloof. Pretending not to hear your name called in the street. It's almost like the more people say your name, the less you're... you're... there. The less I'm there."

He raised his face to you again. His smile was so deeply sorrowful that your heart broke for him. "For a moment, I felt... here."

You wanted to speak - to reassure him, to comfort him - but your voice remained firmly locked in your chest. What could you possibly say? You are here. I see you.

"The pathetic thing is," he said softly, his pretty, pale eyes full of self-mockery, "if I had the chance to walk away tomorrow - to disappear into obscurity - I'm not even sure I would take it."

His manner was so sincere and undefended, you felt an inordinate urge to... protect him. The hissing inner voice sent you an admonition: these waters are dangerously deep. You're getting swept away in the tide.

But he seemed to have reached a catharsis; having said the words, he seemed... lighter. Finally, you found what you wanted to say.

"Is that pathetic?" you asked. "It sounds... Well, human, to me. To regret something, resent it even, but still be unwilling to let it go. Needs are complicated things." His features began to relax; you pressed the small advantage. "It's not all bad," you added, gently flirtatious. "For the next twenty years, you get to be a generation's answer to the question, 'Who was your first celebrity crush?'."

He chuckled, blushing; stepping back from an invisible brink. Joining in your game, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Keanu - in The Matrix," you grinned. He pursed his lips, pretending to appraise your answer. "Go on then," you prompted.

"Christina Ricci," he laughed, then paused thoughtfully. "Or maybe Anna Kournikova".

That tracks, you thought, affectionately imagining him as an excitable teenager, roaming the outside courts at Wimbledon. How endearing.

As rapidly as it had descended, his mood lifted again. And something else had returned - something that had been absent since he'd kissed your cheek under the somber call of the San Antonio bells.

Swagger.

He downed the last of his whiskey, replacing the glass on the table - confidently, this time - then tucked his chin, so that he looked at you provocatively through the small gap between the rim of his glasses and his striking brow. His blue gaze was electric.

"Come with me," he said, rising from the table.

He led this time, not waiting to see if you would follow as he strode quickly back down the narrow staircase and across the cavernous Palazzo entrance room. Somewhere in the journey he had reached back and taken your hand, and you let him pull you along through the ancient corridors. If you had briefly forgotten the arousal coursing through you with his show of vulnerability, it screamed for attention again now; reignited by his pace and determination as his long legs left you to an ornately carved wooden door.

You saw a flash of the ceiling fresco in the semi-dark as he pulled you inside - renaissance depictions of full-figured, bare-breasted women - before his mouth was on yours, pressing you into the cool limestone wall.

He was wild and tumultuous, kissing you with a storm's urgency, the scent of him filling every heavy breath you sucked in. But he was tender, too - his long fingers tracing the skin of your arms were firm, but gentle. It was not the kiss of a stranger; not the hot-but-detached fucking you had anticipated before your arrival. It was - the word felt traitorous in your mind - affectionate.

His lips left yours and moved to your jawline, then your neck, his hands working over the rough cotton of your dress, his desperation fading into decisiveness. Your own hands were forfeit, gripping his strong, muscular hips, while the caged creature in your belly writhed, urging him onwards. Fuck, you thought, I'm going to come just from his touch.

Hands found the hem of the dress, pulling it up and over your curves, eventually tugging it from you altogether so that you stood, exposed, in nothing but simple lingerie. He stood back, and your heart began to thud hard as he appraised you hungrily.

"Am I... Is this...?" The anxious thoughts could not form a complete question before he interrupted you.

"You are exquisite," he breathed, eyes full of lust, devouring you.

When he touched you again it was slower, deliberate; the howling whirlwind of your initial kisses had passed, though what remained was no less powerful. He guided you through the open-plan apartment like it was a dance; you felt drunk on the thrill of him, and could only trust where he was taking you.

Eventually you tumbled backwards onto his bed, and he stepped back again - but this time it felt almost exhibitionistic on his part, as though he were giving you the opportunity to appraise him. You lifted your torso, resting on your elbows, staring. He kept his eyes on yours as he began to remove his once-crisp, white, shirt, now untucked and disheveled, then undid the buckle of the leather belt at his waist. Elegantly stepping out of his pants, he gave you a small, self-conscious grin.

"May I?" he asked politely.

You gave him what you hoped was a look of playful exasperation, but you were thrumming with exhilaration as he brought his perfect, naked body close to you; ran his soft hands over your curves; looped his fingers in the trim of your panties, slipping them from your skin. You pulled him close, letting your own fingertips trace the ropes of long, lean muscle of his torso as your lips met again.

He let his hands drift to your sex, where arousal had been pooling for hours; he stroked you, hot and wet, easing you apart, his clever fingers deftly playing the strings of your body. You gasped openly as pleasure and desire raged within you, loving his teasing, desperate for more. He gave it, generously, circling and massaging and dipping and stroking, and the precipice of orgasm loomed ahead of you, waiting for you to crash through. Not yet, you begged your body.

Your hands stroked his neck, his collarbone, mimicking the way he had run his fingers over his own skin earlier. Impatiently, you sought and found his hard cock, curving gloriously up towards you; you wrapped your hand around him, and he moaned wantonly into your mouth at your touch. Your breath caught as you noted his girth; your fingers did not meet around him. You moved, palm sliding along his satin-smooth length, as he involuntarily thrust against you; as desperate for release as I am, you thought.

With an abrupt growl, he rolled atop you, pinning you under his broad chest, intertwining his long legs with yours and using the torque to widen your hips. His face was so close that you could see the flecks in his irises; feel the moist breath from his parted lips. His hard length pressed into the crease of your thigh

"Is this alright?" he murmured, intently watching your face for approval. At your nod, he growled again, more ragged this time, and used his hands to guide himself to you. You felt his wide tip nudge at your entrance; you fought the urge to close your eyes as he slid inside you, sank into you, until he bottomed out deep in your channel. Every throbbing inch of him was bliss.

You could sense his urgency returning, and you hungrily pressed your mouth to his as he began to rock inside you. You groaned into his mouth, wordlessly begging him to fuck you harder, faster. He read your body like poetry.

"Please don't stop," you moaned sluttishly, not caring about propriety, lost now to anything but the pleasure of him.

"T--aagh, touch yourself," he grunted, and you let your fingertips toy through your slick folds to massage your clit. You were both losing control now, your bodies a mass of messy thrusts and heady groans as you fell towards release together. He threw his head back, eyes closed; but you pulled him back to you.

"Look at me," you half-begged, half-demanded. His eyes met yours, and he gave a sharp intake of breath.

With a guttural moan and a rush of pleasure, you came. You felt your body give up a fresh gush of wetness, and the flush of orgasm seemed to heat your blood to the tips of your toes. You slumped backwards onto his bed, but didn't take your eyes from him.

His thrusts became messy; eyes closed, mouth agape, filthy grunts falling from his mouth as he chased his own release above you.

"Y-yes. Fuck, yes-"

He came with a long cry, spilling his hot seed into you, his fingers gripping the bedsheet beside you, his face twisted in the agony of pleasure. He chest heaved as he breathed heavily into the afterglow, eyes still closed, hand seeking yours and gripping tightly when your fingers met.

When he eventually opened his eyes, they were full of boyish charm again. He grinned at you, slowly pulling his body off of yours.

"Will you stay?" he asked, fingers still entwined with yours.

"I..." you hesitated. Don't catch feelings. "If that's alright," you said, meekly.

He laughed, his contentment clear, and pulled your body close to his.

*****

You awoke to shafts of light penetrating the heavy bedroom curtains, and the sound of running water splashing off bathroom tile. Morning. You rose, finding your clothes in their discarded piles and pulling them on.

The water stopped, and after a moment, he appeared in the bedroom door, a lush white towel wrapped around him. His smile was as breathtaking as it had ever been

You took a deep, steadying breath.

"Good morning," he grinned at you. You could only offer a smile in reply; he began to re-dress while you watched, perched on the edge of his bed.

It would be so easy, you thought with regret, to fall for him.

"I wanted to ask you," he added, "when are you flying home?"

"Ah - tomorrow," you managed, "morning. Out of Venice."

He turned back to you, delighted. He was dressed now, and sat on the bed to put his shoes on. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked excitedly. "There is an operatic production of A Midsummer Nights' Dream at the Teatro del Veneto. We could dine on the waterfront beforehand-"

"Tom," you interrupted him quietly, and his sweet face fell at your tone. "I- I can't..." You willed words to come to you quickly - the look on his face was unbearable. "I - My husband and I - we have an... an arrangement. It works, but only if we follow the rules." He had composed his face into a polite smile; you stumbled on. "I - I'm afraid if I spend any more time with you, I will come dangerously close to... to breaking them."

He nodded, but didn't speak. Was he waiting for you to continue? There didn't seem to be much else to say.

It would be so easy...

"I - I'm sorry. I wish... I could..."

"Stop," he cut you off, smiling at you sadly. "You have nothing to apologise for."

Shoe laces tied, he stood.

"There is breakfast on the table; please stay as long as you need." He walked to the door, then turned to you, still smiling politely. "Thank you for your company, Y/N. It has been a pleasure."

You lifted your chin and swallowed. "Likewise," you said softly.

The door clicked behind him.

*****

The sun had barely risen on your last morning in Padua. You opened the little apartment mailbox to leave your AirBnB key, as instructed, and were surprised to find a small package with your name on it. You tentatively pulled it out. Inside was a gently used book, and a short note scrawled in now-familiar, spidery letters.

I hope this means you can avoid the airport garbage. T.

You turned the book over to read the cover; Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. You swallowed, touched, and not altogether surprised by the prickling in your eyes.

Finally, you turned back to the street, ready for one last walk through the barely-awake city to the train station. It would be a long journey home.

Italian phrases:

Il tuo solito, signore - your usual, sir?

Si, per favore, Marco - yes, please, Marco.

Grazie - thank you.

Tagging some people who enjoyed the first two parts:

@acidcasualties @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokischambermaid @peaches1958 @thomase1 @tomlugirl @vickie5446 @vbecker10 @chantsdemarins @lokixryss @wolfsmom1 @laprofesoratinacita @cabingrlandrandomcrap @hyperlokilover @siriusly--gay @dangertoozmanykids101 @villainousshakespeare @huntress-artemiss @viv-annelore @so-easy-to-love-me @ladymischief11 @kats72 @chokemedaddyloki @cerynas @lokisfavtoy @sititran @faesimps

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut

[seangelfish]

"Can you peel me an orange?" (w/ BAE)

Featured Characters: Allen Sugasano, Hajun Yeon, Anne Faulkner ♡ Tags: Fluff, established relationships, no mention of pronouns ♡ Word count: 1,184 ♡ Synopsis: Inspired by the Orange Peel test that's going around the internet lately, but this time with BAE! Click here for Kanata's version.

🍊 ALLEN SUGASANO

It was around 10pm when you asked him to peel you an orange. You had gotten this idea from a video Anne showed you, so you were curious about how Allen would react especially when he was busy writing new music.

But you did feel kind of bad asking him to do this now, when he was so concentrated and in his element. However, you knew this was the perfect opportunity to do so.

"...Huh?" Confusion was scribbled on his face, but he didn't put his pen down, so you assumed he wasn't listening.

"Allen, could you please peel me an orange?" you repeated.

Still not stopping his rhythm, he replied, "What...? Why can't you do it?"

You could tell he was just genuinely confused by how his eyebrows were raised.

"Are your hands okay?" he continued, looking up at you. "Let me see them–"

"What? No, they're fine!" you laughed. "It's okay, you don't have to."

You weren't too upset at his reaction to this test. After all, he was busy and 'in his zone', so you decided to just leave it at that.

Allen stopped for a moment as if he was thinking about something. If he rejected your request, would you be disappointed in him? Maybe your hands do hurt, but you didn't want to admit it. Or perhaps it was just something a boyfriend should do for his lover? 'Yeah, it's probably that...' he thought.

He stood up from his seat and headed over to the kitchen. He grabbed an orange and washed it before peeling it. He was rather quiet about it as if he was pouring all his concentration on this one simple task.

"Well, here you go, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed happily once he was finished peeling. "That was random, but I hope you enjoy!"

You instantly smiled at this, appreciating how cute and kind your boyfriend was. "Thank you, Allen," you said softly. "I love you."

"Mm, no problem! I love you too, (Y/N)."

Allen was already back in his seat, scribbling away at his notebook. You couldn't just leave him here to himself after he kindly accepted your request, so you kept him company the whole night, feeding him pieces of your orange before drifting into a peaceful slumber.

🍊 HAJUN YEON

You had just returned home from a long day of work, annoyed but still upbeat. After all, your boyfriend Hajun was here to greet you with one of his sweetest smiles.

"Ah, welcome back, (Y/N). How's your day been?" he asked you, looking up from a sheet of paper that he was previously scanning.

"It could've been better," you answered with a yawn.

However, this time, Hajun didn't greet you with his usual hugs or kisses. You wondered why until you noticed the orange he was eating.

"Hmm... I want an orange too," you said nonchalantly.

"Sure, go ahead and get one."

"Aw, but Hajun... could you not peel one for me, please~?" you playfully begged as you clasped your hands together in a way to get him to oblige. "I've been having a rough day so it would be nice if you could do that for me!"

You were just joking, but when Hajun wouldn't move from his seat and then stated you could peel an orange yourself because 'you were perfectly capable of doing so', it ticked you off.

"Come on, Hajun... You're my boyfriend..."

"Are you really that dependent on me, (Y/N)? Haha, how cute..."

He was clearly making fun of you with his lighthearted jokes. You just weren't in the mood for that today and because of that, you got easily irritated. You didn't really want to go back and forth with him even if it was playful banter either.

“Here, an orange for you to peel yourself~” Hajun continued to joke.

You stared annoyingly at the orange he tried to give you. You rolled your eyes in response, preparing to make your leave to your room.

"Why couldn't you just peel me an orange...?" you muttered to yourself. Hajun had caught that, but before he could reply, you were already in your room.

You laid yourself on your bed, groaning into your pillow. “He’s so annoying!” you yelled, your sounds muffled by the cotton.

“Who’s annoying?” asked Hajun as he opened your door.

“You obviously.”

He chuckled and sat beside you on your bed. “Are you really that upset I didn’t peel you an orange?” he questioned, stroking your hair softly. “Is that what you really want?”

You didn’t respond.

“Please look up, (Y/N).”

You groaned again but obliged. As you lifted your head, you noticed a bowl of oranges in front of you, peeled and separated.

“There you go. An orange peeled just for you~”

You couldn’t stay mad at him. A giggle escaped your lips. Throwing a pillow at your boyfriend which he caught with his face, you finally said, “You’re so annoying, but thank you.”

As you happily began eating the oranges, Hajun watched you attentively. Maybe he should peel you more fruits from now on if that's what makes you happy.

But not after teasing you, of course!

🍊 ANNE FAULKNER

It was a chill day where you and Anne lazed around on the couch together, scrolling through your phones. A particular video had caught your eye and so you decided to test your partner on it.

"I'm hungry..." you groaned.

“Okay! Then I’ll tell Hajun to cook something up for us!” exclaimed Anne.

“No, you can’t!” you quickly refused. You didn't want to disturb Hajun especially when he had already cooked lunch for everyone a few hours ago.

"Well, you know I can't cook," said Anne.

"I know you can't," you teased which resulted in Anne tickling you in response. "Hahaha! Could you just give me an orange?"

"Haha, sure thing, love."

They jumped off the couch and walked towards the kitchen. You waited not more than a minute for them to come back to you with an orange.

Now this was the best time for you to drop the question. To ask them to peel that orange for you. The video that caught your interest earlier mentioned the orange peel test where you tested your partner in doing a simple task for you. You wondered whether Anne would peel you an orange or not. You didn't doubt that they would though, but it didn't hurt to try.

You began, "Oh, Anne, could you–"

Yet they interrupted you. "Wait a minute," they said.

You watched them in surprise when they started peeling the orange in front of you. Even when they kind of struggled with it, you watched your partner in awe and love. Anne would peel an orange for you without being asked to.

"Okay, done~" they sang. "Here, love. Say ahhh~"

You giggled, playing along to their game.

"Ahhh~" you repeated as Anne plopped a piece into your mouth. It was sweet just like your partner who smiled at you brightly.

"You passed the test!" you exclaimed, eating yet another piece that Anne fed you.

"Hmm? What test?" they asked curiously.

"Hehe, don't worry about it~"

Intro page | Paradox Live masterlist | Request rules

#paradox live x reader #paralive x reader #bae x reader #bae headcanons #paralive imagines #paradox live imagines #allen sugasano x reader #hajun yeon x reader #anne faulkner x reader #x y/n #paradox live fic #paralive fic #x reader

[silentangel00]

The Batman

(Reader Insert)

Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/silentangel00/731630688641662976/the-batman

Chapter 2 Drive

Your first night as a consultant was a long and rough one. Much more mentally taxing than you had initially prepared for. You knew it would be bad but this, this was something different. You returned back to your penthouse at around 3 AM that day and went straight to bed and passed out in the deepest, stone-like slumber you have ever had. You woke up late in the afternoon, extremely groggy and disoriented. You went to the kitchen and chugged down two whole glasses of water and decided a shower would be best before you head out again.

You left at around 6 heading to the morgue since you were asked to perform the official autopsy on the late Mayor, making sure there was nothing more hidden for you to discover further about our killer. Unfortunately, you came up empty-handed after hours of careful searching. You were about to close Mitchell back into the mortuary cooler but had gotten interrupted by Gordon coming in with a plastic bag. He and Batman had found Mitchell's missing thumb that night. You took it out of the bag to assess it, you saw something metal dangling off of it, attached to the end looked like a USB. You look curiously at it before Gordon bitterly scoffs.

"Thumb...Drive...." He says simply. Your confusion drops and you look back at him with a look of 'Are you serious?' He puts his hands up in surrender and nods in agreement of just how ridiculous this is.

"Must think he's hilarious" You say with a disapproving shake of your head.

"Yeah, think you can separate the thumb from the drive without damaging it and then send it back to evidence for me?"

"Yep, no problem."

Gordon leaves, leaving you alone yet again to try to reattach this thumb to where it belongs. You really wish you could have someone to talk to right now. It would make the hours go by so much faster instead of having to focus in silence on a dead body the entire time. Gordon seemed to be in a rush to get out of there so you didn't bother with trying to strike up to deep of a conversation with him earlier. You looked down at your phone and looked at the time. It was almost 10PM, you scrolled through your list of phone numbers. There was no one there you would feel comfortable bothering this late. You had tried reaching out a few times when you got to Gotham to an old friend of yours, but he didn't return any of your messages. You sighed as you finished what you were doing and locked up. You had a sudden craving for something chocolate. Nothing could convince you to not indulge in this craving and you pulled up your GPS to search for the nearest diner. There was one not too far away, just a 20 or so minute walk, which was very much needed to clear your head and get some fresh air. You started walking taking in the scenery and architecture Gotham had to offer. So Gothic and historical with a splash of modernity shoved in here and there. Its ambiance always consisted of police or ambulance sirens that seemed to echo through the city on an endless loop. What you would give to hear the peace of a bird song, or the whisper of rustling leaves as the wind glides through. You pass by what seems to be a club "The Iceberg Lounge" you read as you pick up the pace. Whatever is going on in that place you don't know, but you definitely don't vibe with the energy it's giving off. You turn a corner and the diner is right there, you smile to yourself as you start to imagine the Chocolate cake you are about to devour with zero guilt.

You head inside pleasantly greeted by a nearly empty diner. A man sits hunched over in the middle seat of the counter scribbling on a piece of paper while sipping a small cup of coffee; he is the only one in here. The waitress greets you and tells you to sit anywhere. You take a seat just a few seats away from the man, closer to the door, and grab a menu searching immediately for the dessert options. The waitress a few moments later takes your order of a chocolate cake and bottled water and leaves. You pull out your phone and start scrolling through news articles til you finally give in and send your father a quick text message, 'How's mom?' since you haven't contacted him in a few weeks. You sigh and go back to reading a research article that piqued your interest. You hear the bell to the diners door ding as a new person entered. To engrossed in what you were reading, you didn't bother to look up. You didn't bother to look up as you heard the voices of the waitress and the new person start talking. In fact, you didn't even bother to look up as the voices started to get into a heated conversation. It wasn't until you felt something pressed to your head that you finally bothered to look up and meet eye-to-eye with the end of a gun barrel.

"Put the money in the bag or I will blow her head off." The masked man said in a trembling voice to the waitress. You couldn't move a single muscle. You looked at the waitress as she shook in fear shaking her head and crying.

"Please I need this money for my family, please please" She tried to plead with the man but he wasn't having it. He forcefully pressed the gun even further into your head forcing you to painfully bend your neck to the side.

"I'm not playing lady! You've got 30 seconds to give me what I want or I will shoot!" He screams at her. You look her dead in the eyes and she looks back at you. She says nothing, does nothing, and just cries harder as he starts to count down. As he realizes that she isn't making any moves to comply he stops counting. "I guess you still don't get it huh," He says darkly and clicks the safety off.

'Oh,' is all you can think as a tear escapes your eye. You suddenly feel a forceful weight launch you to the ground causing you to let out a shocked scream as you hear the gunshot ring through the tiny diner. Your ears are ringing but you can still make out a commotion going on. Screaming, the ground vibrating, the bell of the door, the weight still holding you down. Is this what it feels like to be shot in the head? You wonder as you stare up at the ceiling. Wait...no.

A face comes into view suddenly peering down at you through clear-framed glasses. You look back at him and regain your bearings, lifting yourself up onto your elbows slightly. You're fine, you're not shot! You suddenly realized the weight still on you was him, the man that was sitting at the diner counter just a few seats away from you had pushed you out of the way of the bullet. You both just stared heavily breathing for just a few moments, processing the situation. He finally made a slow movement off of you standing, and you soon followed gripping the counter as you steady yourself on your feet.

"Are you ok?" He asks looking down at the ground. You hear police sirens making their way toward, what you would hope, was your location.

"Yeah, I think so. Thank you..."

He just silently nods. The cops soon enter causing the waitress to crawl off the ground and run into the arms of one of the cops sobbing and incoherently explaining the situation. One of the cops comes up to you. "Ms. Y/L/N? Are you alright?"

You nod in surprise, not expecting him to recognize you. You were about to give him your statement before you were cut off by a quiet voice beside you.

"Y/L/N? As in Y/L/N Laboratories?"

You look over at the man that had saved you. He was looking you in the eyes this time and it made you feel uneasy but you still answered with a simple "Yes."

"Didn't know you were back in Gotham..." His tone had taken a shift that you couldn't quite understand, it felt...dark.

"Yeah..." You reply sounding guilty, thrown off by his sudden shift in demeanor. The cop quickly goes through the standard in a situation like this and then they soon let you know you're free to go. You walk out of the diner feeling too shaken up to walk back to your car. You start to dial to call a driver to pick you up and take you home but you see the man that saved you walk out of the diner sparing you a quick glance before he starts to walk away from you. "Hey wait!" you call out to him and walk a bit towards him, he turns facing you fully "I wanted to say thank you, again."

He just nods saying nothing as he stares you down, is he....angry? He turns to leave again.

"I'm sorry do I know you?" You quickly ask. He stops dead in his tracks but doesn't turn around this time.

"No... but I think soon you will." He leaves you with that as he disappears into the darkness of the night. A chill runs through you like ice through your veins. You quickly make a call to get picked up by a driver and with very little shame ask them to stay on the phone with you til they get here.

Chapter3: https://www.tumblr.com/silentangel00/732612665548161024/the-batman

#bruce wayne x y/n #batman x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #the batman #bruce wayne #robert battinson #batman 2022 #batman #the riddler #gotham #y/n #reader insert #x reader

[error-was-here]

Favorite kiss from you Pt2 ♥ (genshin x gender neutral reader)

AAAAAAA sorry for leaving you guys ,school just started and it’s going terrible so I’m just writing this now

Characters: Heizou ,Zhongli and Venti

Tw :mentions of death in Zhongli’s part ,but not as in as “someone dies” as in a death is “unstoppable“ way

but I do list where it is and where it stops

Pt1 :Amber and kaeya(won’t link because it gets rid of all activity for some reason)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Heizou

This man loves any kiss from you ,but LISTEN ,if you go from kissing his neck to moving slowly to his chin and when your also calling him pet names?! It make him go hijhkhkjojmhljkhlhjjlhknlhjhohjljkjl ,ok? As in every time you do it ,he feels like he ascended to Celestia.

Scenario

You decided to go to your lovely boyfriend/husband work place ,because it was 9:45 pm and he should’ve already been home ,but you understand he might just be really busy with work ,but he should go to sleep if he doesn’t want to end up being so tired that he forgets how to be a detective

You hear a frustrated groan so you slowly open the door just a bit to peek ,to find a tired Heizou with bags under his eyes and writing scribbles on his notes

“Heizou? (Preferred pet name) ….. is everything ok?”

Heizou jumped a bit at your accidental jump scare

“Hm! Oh (____) it’s you ,sorry my partner” Heizou apologised

“It’s ok ,also please can you come home it’s nearly 10pm ,and I know how frustrating it is to work well being sleep deprived.”

“Ok ok my partner ,I will come home ,just let me finish this case first!”

You sigh then go behind him ,you put your head on his neck and try to pick him up

“Hmf! Love I said I was coming home ,let me just first finish this!”

“Nope ,it’s 10pm you’re coming home and sleeping with me”

“Partner ,please ,I have to really get my work done” pleaded Heizou

“Hmf you can do that tomorrow”

“(____) please-“ said Heizou before you just took him into your arms and started walking home

the staff were shocked to see a flustered Heizou being carried by a tired lover ,they thought it was probably best to ignore it

once you both finally get home to open the door to your house then to your shared bed ,you put Heizou down on and started blasting him with cuddles ,before you knew it

,you were blasting him with kisses starting at his collarbone going to his chin

As much as Heizou wished he could continue this for eternity ,but him being so sleepy lead him to falling asleep himself in the middle of this

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Zhongli

Had to give a hard thought on this but I think he would absolutely love a moment where you guys are in a position where you’re under his chin giving him peck kisses on his chest ,he loves it because you too are just so close in that position and-hyjihkihkjbknkhkgkkvk-

Scenario

Zhongli was sitting on Mt.Tianheng looking at all of Liyue ,with you ,his dear lover sitting next to him. If you had to admit ,it was a outstanding site and your so glad you’re experiencing this with your boyfriend/husband

He asked Director Hu if he could have a day off ,which in return probably told him one of those “Ok but don’t die hehe ” jokes ,as much as you like her energetic personality you cannot lie if you didn’t say she freaked you out the first time you met her

Tw :mentions of death (but not as in as “someone dies” as in a death is “unstoppable“ way)

——————————————————————

which now thinking about it ,the first time meeting her was on your first date with Zhongli ,she probably spotted Zhongli and went straight into his dictation

And as much as Zhongli does like that she understands that death is only natural and bond to happen ,but unlike Hu ,he realises that some people are more sensitive to the topic and doesn’t like when she makes others uncomfortable with it

so when he asks her to please stop she seems shocked until she realises that he is on a date and you’re heavily uncomfortable now so she apologised and left well Zhongli checked if you’re ok

——————————————————————-

end of Tw

the 2 of you laugh at the memory as you both start to lay down on the picnic blanket as both of you were done with your food

When he pulls you into a hug well planting a kiss on your forehead ,which made you blush pretty lightly

as you get smothered in kisses you decided to aim and attack Zhongli with peck kisses on his chest

Zhongli was shocked and flustered at the same time ,but he loved you even more then he already did and enjoyed this moment to the fullest

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Venti

Apparently Arcons are hard to think about (WAIT NOT LIKE THAT-) but I have no idea on this one ,as in he loves pecks, slow loving kisses, regular ones ,he doesn’t have a favourite spot for you to kiss aswell ,because every spot is his favourite spot. As in his forehead ,lips ,chin ,cheeks ,hands ,feet- (joking with the last ok? Don’t start a war about feet fetish Venti pls)

Scenario

It was another Windblume festival and in Windblume festival the main tradition is to spend it with family or people who are close

so this year you are spending Windblume with Venti but sadly he was to leave for most of the day for his performance

Well you were selling wine and platters at discounted prices ,and it wasn’t surprising that a certain someone asked to have a boyfriend discount

and when you only took 1 mora off for the “boyfriend discount” he tried to haggle for it to be 0 mora ,you told him to leave

after all of that you and your lover Venti were under a tree drinking wine (or if you don’t like wine then something else) but you both were enjoying yourselves

then a very drunk Venti said in a very drunk almost mocking tone “As your Anemo Archon , Barbatos ,I demand some kisses” he pouts

You giggle slight at the comment “Hehe Venti I know there isn’t normally anyone around at this time but quiet down what if someone hears you?” you say well checking if anyone was there

“Well then ,they must think Barbatos is a pretty lucky Archon to have someone like you ehe!“ Venti says clearly flirting with you

“Also I still haven’t gotten my answer” he pouts

“Well ok ,since you ‘demand’ me of it guess I might as well” you push your lover against the tree ,roughly kissing him and once you’re done ,you see a very flustered bard

“Uh- Uhm Ahem- it was Delightful , thank you my love” Venti says stumbling on his words

the rest of the night he played you tunes and you didn’t mind if he made a mistake, because you both were having the time of your lifes

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hope y’all enjoyed ,didn’t post for a while ,because work hasn’t even started and school’s already being stressful

#fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #heizou x gender neutral reader #genshin heizou #heizou x reader #heizou x male reader #heizou x you #heizou x female reader #heizou x y/n #heizou x gn reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #zhongli #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x gender neutral reader #zhongli x female reader #zhongli x you #venti x gender neutral reader #venti x gn!reader #venti #venti x male reader #venti x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #venti x female reader #heizou fluff #venti fluff #genshin impact

[redgoldsparks]

Well, I wasn't planning to do any hourly comics and then I did some! I just got a couple ideas late at night and wrote them all, then drew them yesterday afternoon. I didn't do one for every hour because the rest of the day I was literally just answering emails. Too boring to draw.

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

Transcript and descriptions: 

1-2pm

Panel 1: Maia, wearing sweats and a hoodie, scowls at eir laptop with a frustration scribble over eir head. E thinks, "I don't want to be reading insurance forms, I want to be drawing dragons!"

Panel 2: The top half of Maia's head in profile, scowling fiercely. Over eir head is a thought bubble in which a dragon sets fire to a pile of paperwork.

2-3pm

Panel 1: Maia sits at eir desk facing a laptop. Maia says, "Hola Maestra. Mi semana fue buena. Terminé una larga proyecto... um... Leí mucho." 

Panel 2: Closeup of Maia facing forward with a frustrated expression. Maia thinks, "I've been taking Spanish classes off and on for 14 YEARS and I still can't hold a solid conversation..."

7-8pm

Panel 1: Maia, in a Tae Kwon Do uniform and blue chest guard and helmet, with a blue belt, spars against a girl with a red chest guard, belt and helmet. Maia is doing a back kick which hits the girl in the leg, instead of on the chest guard. Text: In my class where we learn how to kick people, I kicked someone and really hurt her.

Panel 2: Maia sits with eir helmet in eir lap, eyes scrunched closed. Maia thinks: "I hope she's not bruised tomorrow... She's a higher belt level than me, she knows this can happen... I've been hurt in this class and I kept coming... it was an accident but I feel really bad :( Especially because she's younger than me :("

9-10pm

Panel 1: Maia looks at eir phone and thinks, "I love seeing everyone's hourlies! But I don't even have time to read them all..."

Panel 2: Maia looks thoughtfully to the side and thinks, "What if people didn't all do hourlies on the same day but we divided them evenly throughout the year"

Panel 3: Maia thinks, "I think everyone should do their hourlies on the first day of their birth month so I can read them all year round"

Panel 4: Maia smiles at eir phone, "Yep, I think I'm on to something!"

Happy late hourly comic day <3 Maia, 2023

#hourly comics #hourly comics day #maia kobabe #diary comics #journal comics

[majachee]

NO WAY I AM LINING THIS AND COLORING IT IN ONE DAY, ITS 10PM.

DAY 3 - RAT JITSU. THEY'RE TRAINING WITH DAD

(Close ups under cut)

Splinter is just a scribbly mess i did not look up references for him lol

Please like and subscribe I pulled a muscle on my shoulder today

#majart #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt #rottmntober #raphael #leonardo #michelangelo #donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donatello #raphael hamato #leonardo hamato #michelangelo hamato #donatello hamato #hamato yoshi #tmnt splinter #splinter #lou jitsu #sketch #art #fanart #ALL THE TAGS I THINK

[s1m0nth3swag]

Lockwood & Co – Anthony Lockwood X GN!Reader

Summary; Lockwood takes too long reading in the library so you decide to surprise him to get him to bed.

Pronouns used for Reader; None, 2nd person view

Notes; Fluff, established relationship, lots of cuddles and kisses

Authors note; Decided to write some fluff as first post since I'm way too deep in the Lockwood & co brainrot.

It had been a while since you had gotten ready for bed, comfortably fitting into your pyjamas pants and a shirt from your boyfriend. Your teeth were brushed clean and you had freed your hair from the style you had it in the whole day. You quietly sat on Lockwoods bed, legs tucked under the blanket, staring at your phone as you sighed.

Lockwood was sat in the library. You knew that. You also knew he'd forget the time and stay reading for way too long. Nothing could actually make him get out of the deep library chairs, it's almost like he was glued to them the second the clock hit 10pm. Worst part, he'd stay glued there until about 2am, after which he took another hour to eat a 'late night snack' before taking another half hour to get ready for bed. Ultimately, he'd actually get into bed at about 3:45am, where you were long asleep and sort of pissed at him for staying up too long again. He knew you didn't like it, but it was his escapism so you couldn't actually do anything against it. Without his late reading hours Lockwood would have to start facing his shit and well, he'd never actually do that. So it was you alone in bed while Lockwood forgot about his problems in shitty gossip magazines. You sighed again.

Soon later you found yourself wander down the stairs, your bare feet tapping against the wood. First you take a short trip into the kitchen. The thinking cloth, full of random scribbles of which most you fail to even remember why they exist, was also dirtied by crumbs and patches of tea – no one in the house really cared, though there was a designated cleaning day every week. But it brought an idea. You knew Lockwood loved tea, seriously, he downed that like it was the only thing keeping him alive, but he had a secret sweet tooth. Grinning to yourself, you quickly collected everything you needed from the shelves. Milk and some chocolate, together with smaller ingredients and just in a few minutes you had the perfect chocolate milk. Lockwood had said for weeks that he wanted to try your 'honestly most awesome chocolate milk' (quote taken by George and Lucy who both already had had the pleasure to taste it as you always made it when one of them felt bad) and now you'd use it to get Lockwood get to bed just a little bit earlier.

»Anthony?« You called, two steaming cups decorated with whipped cream and sprinkles. »Mhm?« Lockwood hummed, not looking up from his magazine yet smiling wholeheartedly. Not many called him Anthony, it was a little weird when getting to know him on last name basis only. It took you a pretty long time to get used to it yourself. »Made you something.« You chuckled, leaning against the doorframe to the library. By now the faint smell of steaming chocolate had carried over to your boyfriend and you watched him hurriedly turn his head. »No way. I thought I'd only get that if I'm feeling down and communicate?« Lockwood laughs softly, finally putting away the magazine and slowly getting up. »Well.. I'm feeling down. You've not come to bed yet.« You answer, smiling softly. »Now come on or it'll get cold. I'll wait for you upstairs. Maybe.« You winked playfully, watching his face light up immensely and scramble over to you. »I'll be right there sweetheart.« He whispered, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek before getting to the bathroom. You in return went back upstairs, carefully placing the tray on the bedside table and sitting down on the bed as you waited for your boyfriend.

A few minutes later Lockwood casually walked in, now wearing more comfortable - and too big - clothes. The shirt was a normal oversize while the pants hung lightly on his hips, not that you minded the sight of him in day to day clothing rather than the dress shirts and suits he was almost always wearing. You grinned at him cheerfully as he lunged over the bed towards you, capturing you in a soft hug after knocking the air out of your lungs. »Seriously?« You chuckled »Trying to kill me or something?« »For you to come back and haunt me? Never, love.« Lockwood replied, his voice muffled due to his face being smushed against your shoulder. You hummed softly while Lockwood propped himself up onto his elbows, smiling down at you before sitting up and grabbing his cup of hot chocolate – now more like a warm chocolate. You grinned, taking your own cup and getting a big sip before watching your boyfriend's reaction to the sweet drink. His dark eyes widened, evidently taking in how great it tasted, and looked at you. He hummed, probably trying to voice how he liked the drink without actually speaking, which ended in different tones of humming instead. You laughed at yourself, smiling stupidly at Lockwoods antics. »It's the greatest thing I've ever tasted.« Lockwood said once he gulped the entire chocolate milk down – he couldn't be bothered stopping for just a second to tell you that before he finished. »Glad you liked it.« »You gonna finish yours or..?« You laughed out loud, handing your half done chocolate to Lockwood and watched him down that one too. It was truly incredible. »This.« He started, placing a kiss against your cheek. »Is why I love you.« He ended, mumbling the last bit softly as he looked into your eyes. »So I'm only a way of getting chocolate milk? Wow, we're breaking up.« You joked, kissing his forehead. Lockwood laughed in return, an honest, full laugh, snuggling against you apologetically. »Sorry Love, didn't mean it that way, I love everything you do.« He spoke, his voice muffled as he pushed his face against your neck. »Well then, let's go brush our teeth and sleep, sleepyhead.« You huffed, feeling Lockwoods steady breath on your skin. Your words earned you a soft hum from the boy, who evidently didn't plan on moving one bit from his current position.

»You're a dork.« You mumbled, chuckling at Lockwoods antics.

»am your dork though.« Lockwood answered, smiling against your neck.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #anthony bloody lockwood #anthony john lockwood #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x you #Anthony Lockwood x gn!reader #gn reader #x reader #x reader oneshot #lockwood & co #Lockwood & co oneshot

[chenyann]

Listen to the silence!!

|°Rumor:Jamil works so hard but you seem to be able to drag him away from planning kalims 2022 Christmas party! |°Rumor warning:fluff, gn!reader,sfw,overused words(?), Grammer/spelling errors,this was written at 10pm last night....It's 7am the next day. |°Keys:1,527 |°Ads: I'm so sorry if this is ooc it was rushed and I really wanted to get this one done bc I found it so cute;;I love Jamil but I can never fully write his character because he is just so rahhhh.[Event list here!]

Take a moment to imagine alone time with Jamil. Something this man hardly has, imagine how he would make a snarky comment but still lay beside you, imagine how close he is, how you can feel his hair tickle your fingers and cheek, how his breath is fanning your ear.

Jamil never has a moment's peace; no matter what time of the day he is always busy with something and today he was especially busy because kalim had asked jamil if he could hold a christmas party tomorrow. Jamil would have denied it, but he knew kalim would keep asking. With that said, you were very unsure if you should tell him to take a break. I mean– you did really want to and you knew he needed it. But then again you didn't want to disturb him and give him a sour attitude by mistake. Now look at him, with darkness under his eyes and his battery at five percent. He was hardly even there, he would space out and always was seen with a coffee or something that can give him energy- It was strange!!! Nobody ever saw Jamil like that before so it took the school by shock when they caught him dozing off in the middle of conversation.

“Hey Jamil…..” you were testing the waters to see if he was in a bad mood, Jamil who was sitting in the lounge was scribbling things down on lots of papers. Just standing there awkwardly you waited for him to answer, “Jamil?” No answer.. You took it upon yourself to just tap his shoulder instead of trying to talk to him. 

“Oh y/n, what are you doing here?” he asked, hardly taking his eyes off the paper. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. You seem like you need a break!” Jamil let out a long sigh, “I'm sorry y/n but I'm bus-” before he could finish his sentence kalim chimed in: “That's a great idea y/n!!” 

Jamil felt a headache coming when he heard kalim, “Kalim there is far too much to do for the party.” kalim sat there for a moment and began to think, “But you've been working too hard Jamil! How about I finish up for you!” The white haired boy was practically beaming at this point, meanwhile the black haired one tried to think of something to keep kalim away from his hard work. But he stopped when he realized it would end up useless. Kalim would always do as he pleased no matter what Jamil said, like when he tried to give Jamil a pet tiger on his birthday or the time Jamil told kalim he can't invite the music club to a asim family meeting. All those times ended up useless. “Fine.” Jamil said reluctantly, ``you were quite surprised when Jamil grabbed your hand and started taking you somewhere.

                                    [Jamil's room 1:56pm]

You just sat there.  Is he mad at me? You thought to yourself. Jamil hadn't spoken to you once this whole time, you felt pretty upset since you wanted to hang out but here he was sitting at the desk filling our more papers. You thought he was much kinder to you as-of-late and he would try to make conversation with you in the class or halls maybe even at  parties that you always seem to be invited to. But no, he still is the same distant Jamil viper. Or that's what you think: Jamil is a lair if he says he doesn't wanna talk to you, because he sure as hell does. (But he is rather busy at the moment so you have to wait) He actually likes talking to you, the way you say the most random yet enduring things makes his smile on the inside. He liked it when you were around him because it make him feel all happy on the inside even though you give him grey hairs from the dumb stuff you do. You can even go as far as to say he cares about you. Alot. But what was the strange feeling he felt now? It felt like an arrow just flew into him, it wasn't painful. No. It actually felt really nice. What was this feeling?

His feelings fell into shades of reds, violets, blues and yellows. But, he didn't want them– he tried to blow away from how he felt about you. But every time he blows them away like the winter wind it always seems to come back. Some called it puppy love, that kiddy hope for love that lots of children outgrew with time– but Jamil? No. Oh no, Jamil never got to experience that as a kid. So this was a foreign feeling to him. It made him wonder why a feeling danced its way to his heart when you were around and how he would subtly take care of your health or worry for you. What was that funny feeling when yall locked eyes? That same feeling returned for its encore when you had asked him a question, a phrase so simple yet so complex at the same time. “Do you wanna take a nap? With me that is.”

How was he meant to reply? Would he really stoop so low? Do you think he would fall for those glorious eyes you have? Yes. Yes he did, he fell for it all. You held such sincerity in your tone he didn't know what he wanted to do, for a moment he just looked at you with blank eyes. When he came to his senses he didn't say anything, all he did was walk over to the bed and look down at you. “.........” Silence filled the room as your thoughts began to race, “why is he just standing there????” ……….….… ………….“jamil?” You muttered, he just kept staring at you and it was creepy- well not exactly creepy just uncomfortable because it looked more like a glare. Finally he stopped staring and moved, in fact he only moved closer. You felt your face warm up with the sudden close proximity. 

Thump! 

      Next thing you know he was in your grasp, turns out Jamil moved too fast and fell, likely from the lack of sleep he was getting.  Now here you are, having Jamil in a holding position trying to keep him from leaving. “Y/N LET GO OF ME!?” Jamil screeched, “NO!? JAMIL YOU NEED TO REST!” you yelled back keeping the same energy, Jamil kept thrashing around and you kept holding him. There were some close calls when yall almost fell head first on the floor but you managed, Jamil though was fighting for his life like a rabid animal– yes after sometime he calmed down but it was still hard to make him stop moving! When he stopped moving you began your process of helping him relax.

Your hold felt like he had been graced by a warm patch of sun on a cold day. (Completely different from the choke hold ten minutes ago) It almost felt reassuring. How you whispered words of affirmation and praise in his ears, letting them rock around his head. He was praised alot so it normally wouldn't matter to him– he grew accustomed to not taking the words of others too seriously. But your words were different, your words were filled with thousands of different spices. With you, Jamil could be himself. Your words made ripples in his ocean of thoughts and caused a disturbance; it wasn't an unwanted disturbance– in fact it was welcomed with open arms! For a moment he wanted to praise you as well, he wanted to tell you how courageous you are, how much of a help you are. He wanted to explain how much he appreciates you.

Yet he stayed quiet. He didn't mutter a single word, letting the silence engulf yall two on the bed. He laid there completely devoted to relaxing, but how could he when he is so close to you, he can hear the soft thumps of your heart and your soft breathing. He continued to listen to your heart, his ears left no room for any other noise.

“Maybe just this once I can be selfish..” He mumbled just above a whisper, it took you by surprise– to hear him voice his idle thoughts like that; normally he would let them sit in the corners of his mind but just now he sat them upon the pedestal for all peering eyes to see. You hummed, letting the vibrations catch up to his ears. You saw how he turned his face away when it finally caught up to him. But you paid no mind, you took off his hair tie and slowly untied his braids. He slowly tried to raise his head up to give you a questioning look but before he could you started messaging his scalp. (You can't tell me he wouldn't like it bc he would)  He rested his head back on your torso as you started playing with his hair, rubbing his scalp and loosely rebraiding some strands, slowly but surely he fell asleep in your hold.

#jamil viper #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #twst x reader #disney twst #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst fanfic #twst oneshot #twst

[juiceinpanties]

10 Things You Hate About Eddie Munson, pt 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson/afab!reader

Rating(s): Chapter: E; Fic: E

Tags: eventual smut, penetrative sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), fingering, subbie!Eddie, masturbation (m and f), fake dating, van sex, secret relationship, antagonistic relationship to friendship to lovers, casual sex, not-so-casual sex, phone sex, drunk reader

Summary: Your best friend, Nancy Wheeler, is absolutely dying to date Steve Harrington, but her parents have the weirdest rule: Nancy can't date until her friends (e.g., you) do. Nancy begs you to date someone, anyone, and eventually you agree. Meanwhile Steve offers to pay Eddie "the freak" Munson to ask you out. What could possibly go wrong??

Notes: This is, quite obviously, a 10 Things I Hate About You au, with a slight twist. Throw in some fake dating, a 90s setting, and here we are. Thanks to @tonybourdain​ for dragging me in and continuing to enable me. She helped me entirely rewrite the pone scene because it WAS NOT WORKING as it was.

Please note the tags. Smut ahoy!!

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and PLEASE reblog! Completely blank blogs that just like will be blocked because I'm gonna assume you're a bot. I've been here a long time.

In case you wanna read on Ao3 instead

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

You can’t stop thinking about Eddie.

It’s nearly 10pm. Homework is done, dinner is eaten, excuse is made to parents about why you left school after lunch. And you can’t stop thinking about Eddie Munson and his wide cow eyes and his soft, yummy lips and his big, gentle hands.

It’s like freshman year all over again. At least this time you’re not scribbling his name in your notebook with little hearts everywhere.

You change into your usual sleep uniform of panties and a t shirt and fall back into bed. Maybe you can read for a while, get him off your mind so that you can sleep.

That lasts about 20 minutes. Ugh. This is exactly why you don’t date! You’re far too busy to worry about dumb boys! You toss your book aside and run downstairs for a snack.

You’re on your way back to your room, granola bar in one hand and glass of milk in the other, when you head your private line ringing. You mutter a curse and run to catch it.

“Hello!” you say, breathlessly.

“Hello, did I interrupt something?” It’s Eddie.

You roll your eyes. “Me, running away from you.”

“Haha. Geez you’re so mean.”

“Uh huh. Hang on.” You put the phone down and shut your bedroom door, then climb back into bed and grab the phone again. “Okay, hi. What’s up?”

He grins and plops down on his bed. “I wanted to ask about tomorrow.”

“Hm?” You unwrap your granola bar, but then realize you can’t eat it while talking to him, so you set it aside and sip your milk instead.

“Tutoring? Did you forget?”

“Of course not. I’m just wondering what questions you have.”

He fiddles with the blanket. Maybe this was a mistake. He doesn’t actually have any questions about tomorrow; he just couldn’t stop thinking about you and wanted to hear your voice.

“Uhhh oh! What should I bring?”

You make a face. “Your chem book. Pens and paper. Your brain.”

“Cool, glad you mentioned the last one. Probably woulda forgot.”

You giggle just a little. “Blood flow issues again?”

“Ha,” he says on a breath. “Not right this second, but it’s definitely possible.” He pauses and drums his fingers against his thigh. “So, uh. How’s your evening been?”

“Fine,” you say. “My parents got a call from the school, but I think I calmed them down.”

“Oh shit that’s good. Can’t believe you ruined your perfect attendance record for me.”

“Uh huh, I’m turning into a juvenile delinquent. Cutting class to make out with Eddie Munson in the back of his van.”

"Hey, I just invited you for fries! You kissed me first."

"So I did," you say. "I guess I'm a sucker for pouty lips and big brown eyes."

"My lips are not pouty!"

"Mhmm, sure they are."

"Hmmph," he snorts. "If mine are yours are too. Big, soft, pretty lips. Big, bright eyes." He lets out a long breath. “I can’t stop thinking about you, pretty girl.”

You blush and shift in your seat. Pull the sheet up over your bare legs. His voice is a little low and rougher than usual and it makes you go warm all over. “I was—struggling with something similar,” you admit.

“Oh yeah?” He glances down as a bulge starts to grow in his boxers. Oh geez. Just your voice is doing this! He’s in trouble. He gives it the tiniest stroke with his fingertips.

"Eddie? What was that?" you say as he makes a soft, breathy noise.

"Huh? Oh, uh, nothing." Shit. He's gotta be more careful.

"Hmm." Your bed creaks as you finish off your milk and set the glass aside.

"What was that?" he says with a grin.

"Nothing! I was putting my empty glass on the nightstand."

"Ohhh, I see. Just being a good girl, all tucked in to your bed with your little snack," he says, his voice going rough as he talks. The image is Too Much. He bites off a groan as he rubs his bulge again.

"You okay?" you say. You maybe sort of suspect what that noise was, but surely you're wrong.

"Yeah, yup. I'm good. You?"

You lick your lips. “I want—to kiss you again,” you say. "I mean, if you—would like that. You seemed to like it."

“I’d love that,” he murmurs. “I’d love to be kissing you right now.”

You muffle another giggle. “You could sneak in. You were so good at it last time.”

"That's true! Sneak up to your room, crawl in your bed with you, and...study for chem!"

You laugh and grab your favorite bear from the pile by your bed. Rub your cheek against its soft fur. "Study, huh? What a responsible young man!"

"That's me! Eddie Munson, responsible—young—man." His voice stutters a little as he grips his erection and squeezes.

"Eddie Munson, clearly up to something. What are you doing?"

"I'm—shit. You're suspicious, huh?"

"Mhmm." You run your hand over your chest, across your pebbled nipples. The cotton of your shirt rubs the sensitive skin and you let out a tiny breath.

"Havin' another drink?" he says with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up."

He laughs and pulls his shorts down enough to free his cock. He grips the shaft and runs his thumb over the swollen head. This time he openly lets out a rough breath. "I'll just be quiet," he mumbles. "Just listen to you talk."

"Uh huh," you say. You tug one of your nipples, and then shove your shirt up with an impatient little growl. "As you do what?"

"Nothing. Why, what're you doing?"

"Nothing." You bite your lip around a breath as you continue to play with your extra-sensitive nipples. "What are you working on in chem right now?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Mmmm." He rubs his thumb up and down against the vein on the underside of his cock. Presses against the spot where the head meets the shaft and circles. "Covalent bonds," he manages.

"Oh good." You give up and press a hand between your thighs. You can feel how wet you are through your cotton panties. "I'm fantastic at covalent bonds."

"Uh huh. I just bet you are." He grinds his palm against the tip of his cock and grips it again to stroke the entire length. "What else are you good at, princess?"

You shiver at his tone, the roughness of it. "Lots of things," you breathe.

"God I bet you are."

You give the tiniest moan and shove your panties aside. You run your fingers up and down your dripping slit, over your slick labia. Then you push your fingers into your mouth and suck the taste of yourself off of them.

"What's in your mouth, baby?" he murmurs. "Don't lie."

"My fingers," you whisper.

"Oh? They get all sticky? Something nice and sweet on them?"

"Uh huh!" You feel drunk, dizzy, and if you don't come soon you're going to lose your mind.

He licks his hand and grips his cock again. Gives it several rough tugs before settling in for a slow, easy stroke. "I'd love to taste something sticky and sweet," he says. "Something soft and pink."

He smirks at the sound of your little whimper. Fuckin A he wants you. "Bet you have somethin' like that," he murmurs. "Bet it's just for me."

"Uh huh. A nice yummy snack." You circle your fingers around your clit and bite hard on your lip. "You have anything for me?"

"Oh yeah," he breathes. He strokes faster. "God do I have somethin' for you."

"Good," you say as you wiggle your hips and thrust two fingers into your cunt. "I want it, Eddie. Want to—want—to help you with your—bonds."

"Yeah," he grunts. "Molecules and shit."

"Periodic table!" you gasp as you fuck yourself. You squeeze the phone between your shoulder and chin so you can use your other hand on your clit.

"Gonna study so hard," he says. He's bucking his hips, fucking up into his hand, squeezing his shaft and stroking over the head in desperation. "So fuckin' hard, princess."

"Good! That's so good, so good, Eddie! Love it when you study hard, love it when you're such a good student for me!" You can't hold back a whine as you circle your clit. You're close, so fucking close.

"Gonna ace that test just for you. Make a big fat A just for my pretty little tutor." He's gonna explode any second. "Gonna—fuck—you're so fuckin' good!"

"Eddie! Love that, so proud, so good!!" You come hard, nearly drop the phone, moaning and whimpering with shaking thighs and throbbing cunt.

"Fuck!" he gasps and can't hold back another second. He makes a mess, painting his tummy with hot, thick come and whimpering your name over and over.

You're both quiet except for your rough panting. You lick your fingers clean and clear your throat. He grabs a towel and dabs at his stomach.

"So," you finally say. "See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yep. You want a ride?"

"No, Nancy'll take me. But if I could get a ride to your place?"

"Sure, no prob. Then I'll run you home in time for dinner. After the tutoring."

"Such a nice boy. Goodnight, Eddie."

"Night, princess. Sweet dreams."

"You too," you say, then hang up. You fall back against your pillows with a soft groan. Okay well THAT was a thing. An incredibly hot, delicious, amazing thing. You get up to grab fresh panties and head to the bathroom. You think maybe now you'll be able to sleep like a baby.

You only see Eddie in passing until school's over the next day. You're standing outside talking to Nancy when he cruises up. He stubs out his cigarette and grins. "Hey, Nancy. Hey, you ready to go?" he says to you.

"Yep. Got your chem book?"

He pulls his book bag around and pats it. "Plus a notebook and THREE pens. I'm as prepared as a goddamn Boy Scout!"

You can't help but giggle. "Come on, Foz. Let's see how much covalent bond info we can shove into that brain of yours before the clock strikes 6:30." You wave at Nancy, who's grinning like the cat who ate the canary, and follow Eddie to his van.

He opens the door for you, as always, then hurries around to his side and jumps in. "I picked up some Diet Coke," he says. "I know that's your drink."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks."

"Sure. I also, uh. Cleaned up a little. Wayne and I aren't the neatest pair."

He seems nervous. You reach over and give his skinny thigh a little squeeze. "It's okay, Grove. I'm sure you did great. I'll be there to tutor you, not critique your interior decor."

"Right!" he says. He gives you a quick grin. "And I really do need to pass this test."

"You will," you say. You pat his leg and pull your hand back. "It's next week, right? We can study today and maybe sometime over the weekend. I know you've got Hellfire tomorrow."

"You know I wasn't bullshitting when I asked you to join. You can, if you want. We'd love another member."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Your mouth quirks. "Do I get a shirt?"

"I've got one at my place I can give you. It's clean and everything!"

"Oooo, you spoil me!" You grin at each other before his eyes flick back to the road. "Sure, I'll come check it out," you say. "I play a high elf healer. Rhiannon. After the Fleetwood Mac song."

You wait for some judgmental or snide comment, but he just nods. "Pretty good band," he finally says.

"Wow. How much did that cost you?"

He lets out a rusty breath. "A lot, babe. Not gonna lie. That one was hard. Though it coulda been worse."

You giggle and settle back in your seat. "I'm proud of you."

You chat casually the rest of the ride, almost like friends. Neither of you mentions last night. It's like it never happened. Part of you wonders if he regrets it, but you decide that no, he's just waiting for you to bring it up first. He doesn't want to pressure you since you made "no touching, no kissing, no bullshit" your very clear rule for this thing you two have going.

Last night definitely counts as "bullshit."

You get to his place and he grabs a can of root beer and a can of Diet Coke from the fridge before leading you back to his room. You take a moment to study his posters (it's only fair; he's seen yours) and notice the fact that there are clean sheets on his bed. Wow, he really did clean up.

"Have a seat," he says. "Sorry I don't have a desk or anything."

"It's okay," you say and drop down onto his bed. "I think I can handle it." You kick off your shoes and scoot back, dragging your backpack with you.

He hesitates a moment before climbing up next to you so that you're sitting side by side against the headboard. "Okay, um. Chapter 3," he says as he pulls out his textbook.

You grab your book and notebook and flip open to the relevant chemistry notes. "Okay, first you explain to me what covalent bonds are."

His forehead creases and he haltingly explains the concept. He actually has it down pretty well.

You get through bonds quickly and move on to other topics on the test, and before you know it two hours have passed.

"Shit," he says with a glance at his watch. He scrubs his face with both hands. "My brain hurts."

You pat his head, grinning. "Poor brain. Needs a break, I think."

"Uh huh. Want a snack? I can make some popcorn."

"Yeah, that'd be good. We can quit for the day, if you want. Put a movie on for our last few hours. There's a point of diminishing returns with all this."

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you. "You were readin' my mind, princess. Movies are stored under there," he says, pointing. "Pick one out while I go make the popcorn."

He hops up and you crawl off the bed to check out his movie collection. Slashers and porn. Porn and slashers. Hm. Nothing super surprising, except maybe The Never-Ending Story. But that's a classic.

Since it's only a few weeks away, you decide on Halloween and push the tape into the VCR. You pause it and put your books away before settling back on his bed.

He comes back with a huge bowl of popcorn and two fresh sodas. "Hey," he says. "What'd you pick?"

"Debbie Does Dallas," you say, straight-faced.

"What? That's not even—" He scowls as he catches on. "Very funny. Jerk."

"That's a lot of porn, Munson."

He shrugs and plops down beside you. "I'm a growing boy. I have needs."

"Uh huh. For tits and serial killers, apparently."

"Nothin' wrong with tits. And serial killers are built into the fabric of American society. Did you know there's something like 50 serial killers active in the US at any given time?"

You look at him, wide-eyed. "Are you serious?"

"Yep. And, I mean, Hawkins is...well."

"Weird," you say.

"To put it mildly. Anyway, the horror movies are kind of an escape. They're so ridiculous." He hits play on the remote. "Take this one, for instance," he says, recognizing the opening credits. "How many different ways does Michael Myers die in just this one movie? But he always comes back."

You reach for some popcorn and munch on it thoughtfully. "The futility of fighting against the inevitable existential pull of 20th-century ennui?" you say.

"Yeah, that, and also you can't trust in institutions. The cops are rarely helpful in slasher movies. The government or anyone like that never is."

"Adults aren't usually at all. Kids and teenagers have to fight the monster."

"Exactly. Kids at summer camp, kids having nightmares, kids babysitting. At the end of the day you can only trust your friends to have your back, and even then they might get stabbed," he says. His expression is intense, his eyes big and bright, and you realize you could sit here and talk movies with him all afternoon.

You lean over, grab his shirt, and pull him in for a kiss. He sits back in surprise. "What was that for?"

"Nothing. Continue."

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. "I lost my train of thought."

"Oh," you say. You take the bowl of popcorn and set it aside. "Oops." You crawl into his lap and push him back against the headboard with one hand and grip his hair with the other. He stares up at you, astounded, and his big eyes flutter closed as you lean down to kiss him again.

"So," you murmur between kisses. "Do anything fun last night?"

His hands run up and down your back and he nips at your lips with his. "Chatted on the phone with this hot girl I know."

"Lucky girl." You pull his chin up and kiss him hungrily, your tongue sliding into his mouth. He moans and moves his to meet it. His hands go still as he hangs onto you and you slowly start to rock against him.

"Don't get hard," you breathe against his mouth.

He lets out a stuttering laugh. "I'm only human, babe. You doing—that—is gonna lead to a hard dick every time."

"Mmmm I should stop, then. We have a movie to watch."

He bites your lower lip. Tugs. "Whatever you want, princess. I am at your service."

Oh. You like that. "Hm," you say as you slide off his lap. "Maybe if you're a good boy I'll suck your cock during the movie."

He sits up. "I'll be good! I swear! So good! The best!"

You giggle and kiss his cheek. "Watch the movie, sweet boy. I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

#eddie munson #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stfic #fic #emfic #meg wrote this

[corviids]

Hey, you are kinda my inspiration, so i do wanna ask some things... if you do work, how do you manage your time in social life, creator and work? Like, I can't seem to organize myself to write or draw :(

And my schedule its going to be free around 5pm and 10pm, and i get overwheelmed, my job system sucks in my country

aw thank you anon !!

i’m not sure how great of advice i can give because i totally relate to how you feel. i think what works for best is keeping items on me that allow me to scribble down inspiration when it strikes. for example, while i’m at work, i also keep a small notebook on me to write/draw ideas to go back to when i have a chance. i won’t lie, i don’t really organize myself that much. creating things doesn’t need to be controlled so let yourself do when you feel like it. when it comes to balancing things, don’t put pressure on yourself. my average work/school day is from 7am-3pm on a normal day so i basically make sure i have all my obligations done before i sit down to do other stuff so i don’t get overwhelmed.

in all honesty, i don’t think there’s a secret to it. it’s completely normal to feel overwhelmed at times but somethings i do to help manage that feeling is: making sure all my daily tasks are completed, disconnect for a bit, allow yourself “me days”, give yourself deadlines and try to hold yourself to them but don’t feel bad if you can’t

i’m sorry if this isn’t very helpful i’m not the best at giving advice ;—; but i wish you luck anon and i’m always here if you need it <33

#asks