#I literally don’t know anything other than the few movies I’ve seen

[evil-swedenish]

X-men first class is so silly so funny

#I literally don’t know anything other than the few movies I’ve seen #I’m having a moment #anyways #fun fact about me is I didn’t know Erik was a bad guy until the third xmen movie I watched #‘can they stop making Erik do morally gray things I wanna root for him’ #‘…I wouldnt say the things he’s doing are morally gray I think they’re just bad’ #‘OH MY GOD BECAUSE HES THE BAD GUY HUH????’ #and then I got laughed at for a bit #xmen #x men #x men first class #xmen first class #erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #cherik #art #fanart #fan art #x men fanart #cherik fanart

[shawnxstyles]

personal 2

DATE: SEPTEMBER 9, 2023

summary: you can’t stop thinking about your first orgasm, so you try to relieve yourself of the ache. when you’re left unsatisfied, you reach out to harry for some guided practice.

words: 6.6k

requested: a bunch!

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [masturbation, dry humping (?), thigh riding/rubbing], praise kink, dirty talk), language, and two horny best friends

note: this is a new series i plan on writing (but i don’t know if i want it to have a plot or just blurbs)!! i literally have so many requests (what’s new…), but i have a lot of motivation to write this right now, plus i’ve gotten a lot of requests for it as well. i hope you guys don’t mind the delay of my other writings… x PART THREE

bestfriendrry x inexperienced!reader

—

It’s been a week since you last saw Harry.

Yeah, you’ve texted here and there. Maybe if you saw some funny video that you just had to tag him in or vice versa you would, but you haven’t actually seen him. Not physically. You think if you did, you might just die.

The second that you rose up from his bathroom floor after having your first orgasm ever (and mind you, it was mind-blowing), you stiffly cuddled up with him on the couch to watch the movie he picked out. If he seemed confused by your quietness or hardened body, he didn’t say it. Your head on his chest would vibrate every time he laughed at something funny, but it was hard for you to voice some of your own giggles out. You couldn’t focus on anything other than his body pressed against yours, so similarly yet so differently to how it was merely hours before.

From your position, you were able to feel his heart beating, organ pumping blood and keeping him alive. Stable. And that’s all you felt from him; his stableness and calmness. Your heart was thrashing around anxiously in your rising chest while he was just calm. His lively beat was as calm as the ocean waves, so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep before the movie had ended.

In a deep, much-needed slumber, Harry could feel your body loosen up. He didn’t want to say anything, but he could feel your tenseness. That was the opposite of what he wanted to happen. Orgasms were supposed to make a person relaxed and stress-free, but your body felt nothing like that. He could practically hear all your anxious gears overthinking in your little head. He wanted to pry every thought out and reassure you that whatever you’re thinking is fine and that he’s there for you. But he knew he had coaxed enough out of you when you spilled out your biggest secret to him, earning yourself your first orgasm in the process.

So, Harry never brought it up. Not through the funny parts of the movie, the romantic scenes, or even the ads. He just let the air between you guys grow incredibly thick with your silence, but pretended like he could see through the fog. He remained as nonchalant as possible–it was his forte after all. After you fell asleep, Harry let the movie ride out. He tried to pay attention the whole time instead of pondering what you might be thinking, but he didn’t do too well. If someone were to quiz him on the film, he would fail horribly.

Harry shuts the television off and cradles you up into his arms. Your head lumped onto his shoulder like dead weight before you snuggled up right into his neck. Harry had carried you many times before, and even more times while you’re asleep like that, but the way his skin was getting all warm and melty was something he’d never experienced with you. Your nose was right up against his pulse and it made him feel sensitive and vulnerable, but also so warm and alive. It was really hard for him to stay calm.

When he reached his bedroom, he gently unwrapped you from his body and laid you on his bed. He watched in awe as you immediately curled into a ball like a fetus, trying to hold on to something for comfort. After a few minutes, Harry joined you in his bed and threw your hands around him. Your subconscious didn’t hesitate to scoot closer and bathe in his body heat, snuggling into your favorite pillow; his chest.

It was really hard to stay calm.

You both woke up and went on your way for that day as if nothing happened. You had an afternoon lecture that you had to catch and Harry had to go to work. It was alright. Everything was fine. Everything was normal. Right?

But you couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.

Normally, that would never have been a problem. He’s your best friend, so of course you think about him all the time! Sometimes, you’ll see a sign or a poster on the news board when walking to class that reminds you of one of your guys’ inside jokes that you just have to send to him. If he sees something too, he’ll send it your way. You both find it fun and endearing at the same time because that’s what best friends do; so alike and attuned that they’re always on the same wavelength of thinking. It was normal. But the way you’re obsessively thinking about Harry isn’t normal. You couldn’t even convince yourself that it was and that’s saying something.

Your mind kept drifting off to the way everything played out last week. Even when you were in class on Friday afternoon (one week later) you just couldn’t help thinking of the cold bathroom floor and the fiery body pressed against you. It was so contrasting–it was so wrong. The angel and the devil on your shoulders were bickering more than ever, and you didn’t have a clue whose side you were on.

Harry’s assertive voice echoed in your head, almost as if you were trying to remember it. You had never heard him talk the way he was talking to you last Thursday. It was deep, sultry, and demanding—something you never would have known you liked. You’re not even sure if you actually liked that or if you just liked when Harry did it. Well, you don’t really have anything to base your sexual likings on yet…

When his hands delicately touched and teased you, down your stomach, down your thighs, you felt it. You felt it for days after. His touch lingered like a ghost on your skin, etching a tattoo of himself on you forever. It was blinding and fogging your vision so much, you couldn’t even focus in class. The second that your Friday class was over, you shot straight home. You didn’t look at your phone as you hurriedly discarded your shoes and jacket and stumbled into your bedroom.

You plopped yourself on your mattress with a familiar goal in mind that you were never able to achieve before; you were going to masturbate. Now that you could do it, you were going to relieve yourself of this… stress.

It only took a few seconds before your clothes were completely off and your head was planted against the headboard. You widened your legs and watched your lips slowly pry themselves open with the stretch. You swallowed, small anxiety bubbling in your throat. But you knew what you were doing now. You knew how to do it right because Harry showed you.

Oh fuck. You should not be thinking about Harry right now.

A small amount of wetness coated your labia. It was inevitable–the second his name popped into your head, your mind began to not only recall but wander. You remembered his gravelly voice in your ear, guiding you, showing you, teasing you, praising you. You remembered the ghost of his touch that you attempted to replicate with your own, but it wasn’t the same. And of course, you remembered his bulge that was harshly pressing into your lower back, pleading to be helped. You remembered everything a little too vividly, but it made you so wet thinking about it, and it made it so easy to rub the little button that Harry showed you.

Your clit was puffy, swollen, and needy just like you. Your middle finger circled over it with desperation, snatching some of your wetness to make it sloppier. Your breath started to become unsteady as your eyes trained on your pussy, now soaking with your arousal.

This is when your mind begins to wander. You start imagining things that you haven’t done with Harry yet, but were so intrigued by. You imagined getting on your knees for him and taking him in your mouth, so you could finally relieve his bulky ache. He would encourage you, caress you, and call you a “good girl” in his thick, leather-like voice. The thought of satisfying him until he’s groaning above you has you spreading your legs wider and spinning your finger around your clit faster.

Just like Harry did, you snake your hand up to one of your peaked nipples. You found it was difficult to rub yourself while also tweaking your pebbled buds. It was definitely something you needed to gain muscle memory on, especially if you planned on doing this when you got stressed. Which was often.

You didn’t know how often you would get wet though. You hoped it wasn’t too frequently because like right now, you weren’t completely fulfilled. If you had to do this every other day, you would probably be even more upset if you weren’t satisfied each time. You felt that chase-like desire bubbling up inside of you, like with Harry, but it wasn’t nearly as blissful. Maybe the first one is always better than the rest and with each one you’ll just be a little more disappointed as time goes on. But as a shrieked moan leaves your mouth when you orgasm, a small voice in the back of your head is telling you the real reason you’re not satisfied.

Harry isn’t here.

—

On Saturday morning, after sleeping like shit under your shoe, you asked Harry if you could come over. Usually, you would have more self-control, but there was something about an orgasm that strangled and stole any self-preservation you had.

When you woke up, you went straight to the bathroom just to find out you were wet. Again. The word really? spilled from your lips before you could stop it. You assumed that you had some type of dirty dream, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was about Harry. But you’re glad you didn’t remember it. You were hurriedly wiping up your mess and tossing your shorts in your laundry bin. In some type of rush, you took a speedy shower like it was a competition.

Then you stared at your phone, wondering if you should do it. Should you text Harry? You’ve never thought about it this much ever, but one message could mean everything if he looked at it right. What if he thought you were obsessed with him?

No, don’t think that.

Texting your best friend is normal. Asking your best friend for sexual help was normal too. Right…?

Y/N: hey, what are you doing today?

You felt a little nervous. Not because you were texting Harry but because of what your intentions were. What if he felt like you were just using him? Your heart spiked when you saw the three small bubbles.

Harry: I just got off work

Harry: Want to come over?

He knew you too well.

—

The second he texted you he was home, you went towards his place. With every red light you hit, you bubbled with anticipation, drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel. Your anxiousness turned into a ball of excitement when you were actually in front of his door.

He opened it with a charming smile, one that you recognized all too well. You welcomed yourself inside and tried to seem as normal as possible. But you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Your mind kept wandering back to that feeling in your lower stomach.

“So… how was work?” You asked, creating some small talk as you plopped yourself on his couch. The very couch where everything started.

That was not helping.

Harry gave you a look, one with squinted eyes and a half chuckle. “Fine? What’s up?”

“What’s down?” You cringed as the words came out, your nervousness shining through.

“Why are you acting so weird? Are you okay, Doll?” Your stomach simmered at the nickname, differently than ever before. You had a feeling that name was never going to be the same for you again. You sighed, squeezing your legs together as Harry dropped himself next to you. His close proximity was nearly killing you. Not only did he radiate warmth but he smelt good—like he just showered in a tropical forest.

What is wrong with him?

“I’m not fine,” You admitted as your head fell in your hands. Harry grew concerned with scrunched eyebrows, throwing an arm around the back of the couch and waited for you to continue. When you didn’t, he asked.

“Well, d’you want to tell me what’s wrong or just sit ‘ere and complain? C’mon, Doll.”

You groaned, crossing your legs. The throbbing between them was so prominent, it was like a second heartbeat. Your hands balled into fists on your side, nails digging into your palms. Harry watched all your movements that you tried to withstrain.

“You can’t call me that anymore.”

“Woah, what?” Harry’s eyebrows jumped, extremely puzzled and surprised by your attitude. You’ve never had a problem with the name for the years he’s been saying it, so what changed?

“It’s—it’s killing me, H! Everything you’re doing is… just killing me and I don’t know why. I think I might explode. Is this what dying feels like?” You admitted, throwing your hands over your eyes again as a way to hide in embarrassment. Harry feels himself relax a bit, he even chuckles in the air you thought was thick with tension. When you hear his laugh, you look at him like he’s crazy. “This isn’t funny!”

“Oh but it is.” It was evident that Harry knew you weren’t actually upset with him. You were just innocently turned on so much that you were frustrated. And Harry so happened to be the only one to know your little secret. So why wouldn’t you come to him?

“No, you ruined me. Am I going to be… like this forever?”

“What, you mean horny? Probably.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Then why are you here?” he smirks, patiently waiting for you to confess. You huffed under your breath while your eyes stared at your legs, thighs squeezing together at his cockiness. You were so annoyed at his control, but your body for some reason got off on it. You needed whatever he had because clearly only he could give it to you. “Look at me.”

You craned your neck up faster than you would have liked to admit, glaring at his darkening green eyes. A heat swirled not only in the pits of your stomach but in the air around you both, suffocating you with its tension. After gazing at your appearance for longer than necessary, his smirk deepens, which you didn’t even know was possible.

“I have a feeling…” he starts as his hand slowly creeps towards your neck from the back of the couch. “That you’re unsatisfied.”

“Yes,” You grumbled.

“Did you try to relieve your ache? Or did you just let it build up? Either way, you found yourself here.”

Your skin ran hot. Fiery hot. His hand brushed over your neck and he could definitely feel the scorching flames of your skin. Your heart was racing trying to keep up with your body’s excitement, making your eyes blown out and wide.

“I… tried to relieve it.”

“Did you do it the way I taught you?”

“…yes.”

“Did you feel satisfied?” You took a pause before responding, but Harry knew the answer.

“No,” You were honest, just like before. A part of you felt ashamed again, too. Maybe you didn’t do it right and you were just a lost cause. Instead of looking sad at your predicament like last time, Harry smirked. That fucking smirk. It meant he knew something you didn’t and that frustrated you more.

“So I was right. You just need a little help s’all,” his thick hand gently squeezed your neck, causing you to hum and close your eyes. He loved how responsive and sensitive you were, it lit a fire in him. “So how’d you do it, hm?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, walk me through it. What made you want to masturbate in the first place?”

Your eyes shot open and looked as far away from him as possible. Your body clearly stiffened and got anxious from the question. You felt your hips squirm in their tight position on the couch, begging to move. Your little button was throbbing, so much it was becoming painful.

“Don’t lie. I can’t help you then,” Harry was being taunting and condescending. A tingle sparked within you, urging you to be truthful. You hoped he would help you like before because like you said, it was getting painful and you were getting desperate.

“I-I kept thinking about last week.”

“What part?”

“Um, the whole thing,” You bit your lip, twiddling your fingers.

“Be specific.”

“Harry…” You practically whined, covering your face for the third time in embarrassment. “Can you just… make it go away please? It obviously didn’t work when I did it.”

“‘Course I will, just walk me through what happened first.”

“Fine,” You took a deep breath and put your head up. You positioned your body to face him, trying to speak with confidence. “I got distracted in class and was thinking about…you know…and then I went home. I was so stressed that I just decided to do it, but I couldn’t do it unless…”

“Unless what, Doll?”

That fucking name.

You don’t know if it was from his deep voice. Or from his demanding tone. Or his hand squeezing at the pulse point of your neck, but you whimpered. The smallest and most delicate sound that couldn’t have even been recognized by a high-definition microphone. But Harry heard it, and it made him go absolutely berserk.

“Unless I thought of you.”

“Fuck, Y/N. I’ve corrupted you, huh?” he squeezes your neck again reassuringly as you mewl in his grasp, a little less ashamed than before. “Well, you came all this way…”

“Please, Harry,” You delicately begged, trying not to sound as desperate as you were. Because, fuck, were you desperate. With every simple, warm caress of his hand on your neck you thought you were going to suffocate from holding your breath.

“Take off your shorts.” It was an easy command to follow. Harry’s assertive tone sent chills down your spine and a fiery tingle in the pit of your stomach. The same type of tingle you felt whenever you thought about the bathroom incident. But you were never able to dull the flame alone.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to.

Without another word, Harry’s hand snakes down to your waist joined by his other one as he lifts you up and onto his lap. Your lungs deflate, releasing a shaky breath full of your anticipation. Your legs were on either side of his, spreading you open just enough to feel yourself leak into your panties. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you wait for him to tell you what to do.

“Show me what y’got,” his reassuring hand slips from your waist and rests on the arm of the couch. Your expression falls in disappointment.

“What? I thought you were helping me!”

“This is helping you. I have to see what y’did wrong so I can help you fix it. There’s a method to my madness, love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You rolled your eyes. He’s said that line growing up too many times to count. You used to tell him to shut up every time, but now you’re just immune to his cheekiness. The context was very different now, and that line may never be the same.

“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. Do y’want my help or not?”

“Okay, okay!” You assured, your cunt still throbbing against the cotton of your underwear. You swallowed once the playfulness died down, silence surrounding you both. The only thing left was for you to start, which you found extremely embarrassing. “So I just…”

“Do exactly what you did. Walk me through it.”

You took a deep breath before discarding your shirt. You tried not to think about how Harry was looking directly at your body now without the reflection of a mirror. He didn’t hide the way his gaze lingered on specific parts, almost as if he was memorizing each little detail. If you weren’t so hyper focused on remembering what you did and what he told you, you would find it somewhat endearing (and embarrassing).

With trembling hands, you threw off your shirt to tweak at your peaked nipples, just like you had done yesterday. They felt raw and sore between your fingertips. With each twist came a small aftershock of pain, but you only continued to roll the bud. You kind of liked how it hurt a little…

While one hand focused on your breasts, the other began to slide down between your legs. After passing your torso, your fingers slipped underneath the band of your underwear. The pads make contact with your aching clit, just like before, but it was different. When you did it alone, it felt stressful and rushed. But right now, it feels more electrifying and dizzying than before.

Maybe it was because Harry was here and that he was watching you like a hawk. His mere presence was alluring and intensified every touch. His eyes were trained on your every movement, analyzing and critiquing you with those thorn-like pupils. You wanted to know what he was thinking, but you were starting to get too caught up in your own pleasure to care.

“Oh, f-fuck,” You sighed and rocked your hips subconsciously over Harry’s thighs. He sharply inhales, but you don’t register the sound because you’re too busy making your own. You didn’t notice Harry’s growing bulge, merely a few inches away from your dripping cunt.

Your eyelids start to tighten, screwing shut as your thighs quiver. That familiar rush was approaching you fast, and just when you thought it couldn’t come any faster, Harry finally does something. He speaks.

“Almost there already? You are desperate, aren’t you, Doll?” Harry’s tone could pass as pitiful or even taunting as his hand creeps towards your pivoting waist. But the raspy deepness of it is what sends you over the edge. Your fingers squeeze your nipple while your fingers circle your pulsating clit. All of your movements stop as your body overloads, coming down from the much-needed orgasm. Your hand slaps onto his broad shoulder for support as you quietly chant his name with a squirm of your hips. “All the way. There y’go, angel.”

With some labored breathing, you finally peel your eyes open to a smirking Harry. Your skin flushed in sudden embarrassment, realizing your position. You immediately think to move off of him, especially after just coming in your panties, but his hand on your hip keeps a firm grip.

“We’re not done yet. You haven’t even heard my thoughts.”

“…What are your thoughts?” You were a little intimated, which is something you never thought you’d be by your best friend.

You had some thoughts and feelings of your own. Yes, this orgasm was better than the one you did alone. But it was nowhere near as satisfying as the one Harry did for you. Why was that? It internally frustrated you that Harry was so good at what he did, but a small—smidge little speck—of you was proud that your best friend was good in bed. Well, you don’t know about all aspects, but you could assume.

You should not be thinking about that!

And maybe another tiny part of you was glad to be one of the people experiencing his euphoria.

“I thought it was pretty good. Pretty good for your what? Third time? Well, second by yourself. Could use some work,” Harry tried to be as nonchalant as possible. His cock was raging in his shorts, just begging to be let out for some relief. He’s not going to lie and say he hasn’t thought about his best friend in a sexual way since their sexual intercounter because he totally has.

What he hasn’t done is jerk off to you. He refuses to stoop that low because in a way, that made him feel dirty, like he was using you somehow. When he came home from work the day after everything, he had to call up one of the numbers in his phone to help settle his little problem. Okay, yes, that might seem hypocritical, but he doesn’t care about jerking off to random people or using his friendly benefits to get off quickly. That’s exactly what they were for. You, on the other hand, were not for that purpose. You are his best friend who just needs a little… guidance in the sexual field. And luckily, Harry has a lot of experience that he is (for some reason) very willing to share.

You were just about to roll your eyes when Harry’s grip tightened even more as a warning. He just knew you too well.

“I want to try something. Willin’ to try something new?” You felt the pacing of your already quick heart accelerate. Your eyes were wide and full of wonder, innocence draped over you like a bedsheet.

“Yeah. That’s the point of this, right?” Your voice sounded a little hesitant, similar to the way Harry blinked. You swallowed your anxiousness down as Harry nodded.

His hands guide your hips over onto his lap. You instantly get flashbacks from last week, his warm hands stilling your hips and rubbing gentle circles on your burning skin. But this time, he adjusts you so you’re sitting on one of his thighs. Your panties were directly on his athletic shorts and it was comfortable, but you had an urge to be closer. You needed skin to skin contact.

Was that too much? Too far?

“Actually,” As if he could read your mind, “I’m going to pull these up, okay?”

With a nod, he tugs his shorts up, revealing his large tiger tattoo. You nearly forgot he had it. As your eyes fixate on the impressive ink, you find yourself becoming a little dizzy with lust. Not only was the tattoo cool but the placement almost had you fainting. You watched his thigh muscles contract when he shifted his hips, the tiger pulsing and looking like a great seat.

Harry was going to—no did—ruin you…

Next, he pulled you forward, nearly causing you to collapse on him. Now, your covered center is directly on his bare thigh, lightly pressing against his thickness.

“Y’real warm, Doll,” Harry observes, hands subconsciously slotting their way onto that soft spot of your hips. You felt as though they belonged there now. Your skin blushed, heat bubbling inside of you at his comment. You couldn’t help but feel shy with his eyes gazing at your every move. Legs wanting to close, you force yourself to keep them open around his waist. Just like he taught you.

“What do I do now?” You didn't really know what to do with your hands and it was evident. Harry saw this, however, and threw your lonesome hands over his shoulders. His action caused you to lean closer towards him, faces merely a few inches apart. You swallowed, but your throat was dry, and your heart was running a mile in record time. You could feel every breath fall onto your face because you were in such close proximity. You wanted to kiss him badly. It was strange because you’ve never felt such a pull towards him.

“I want you to use me.”

“What?” You blinked.

“Use me. Move your hips on m’thigh until it feels really good.”

“I…I don’t know how,” You admitted, fingers trembling within each other behind his neck. A soft, reassuring smile rests upon his lips, and before he even said anything, you already felt a little better.

“Just move first and I’ll help you as you go. Do you remember what to say if you want to stop?” he asked with gentleness as his hand curled on your hip, kneading it with care. You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. He pinned you with a knowing look.

“Stop is red, yellow is slow down, and green is good.”

“You remembered. Good girl,” The two simple words made you flutter inside and out. But they also motivated you to strive and really be a good girl for him.

You released your interlocked fingers from behind his neck and bared his shoulders. You took a deep, quivering breath before beginning to move over his thigh. It was an awkward motion; circling your panties along his naked thigh while he just took it. At first, it didn’t feel all too pleasurable. The idea of it all seemed great, but you just couldn’t get into it. A small part of you was saddened because Harry had seemed excited.

Had you let him down?

But just before you stopped to complain and whine about it, Harry’s grip on your hip tightened and pulled you forward. Your heart jumped at the action, feeling immense intensity in the proximity. With the slight lean forward, your clit was pressing directly on his thigh creating a perfect friction from your cotton panties.

“O-Oh,” You breathily moaned, finally feeling that strike of pleasure you’ve been waiting for. As your eyes begin to close, Harry never seems to remove his from you, analyzing every speck of your body like you’ll perish any second. His hand remains rigid and still on your hip, forcing you forward so your clit is constantly stimulated.

“Yeah? That feel better?” he asks in that familiar, deep husk that rumbles through your body.

“Yes, H,” Your head leaned on his shoulder, thighs beginning to burn with fatigue. It’s barely been a few minutes yet you were already feeling your leg muscles giving out.

“C’mon, Doll. Don’t give up now.”

“I’m trying,” You whined, picking your head up and pouting at him with a small pant. He stares at your puckered lip and dares to kiss it. Would it be crossing a boundary? All he wants to do is suck on all your words until you have none left and leave a few marks in the process. Is that so hard to want?

“Try harder.”

Harry thrusts his thigh up into you, causing you to gasp in bliss. It was an overwhelming and shocking feeling; a single, hefty dose of pressure right into your clit and cunt. Harry could feel your prominent heat burning through your underwear and searing through his skin. He wanted to rid you of your clothes and ravage you, but you weren’t there yet. He doesn’t know if you’ll ever get there with him, but recently, he’s been dying to get there. The thought has never even wandered his mind before, but now that it is, he can’t seem to get it out. It’s as if you’re trapped in his mind and sex is the only key.

That sounds a lot worse than he thought.

“Oh my God,” Your whimpers flow straight into his ears, playing mind games with him. His cock has been puffing up in his shorts, but he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. There’s no way you’re oblivious to the things you do to him—at least physically.

Harry continues to ram his thigh up, encouraging you to move around. When he feels your body seriously about to give up, he holds you still and forces you to stop.

“Color?”

“Green, but I’m tired.”

“Do y’want to stop?”

“No, Harry, please, just—I really need you to do something. Anything. I’m close,” Your desperate pleads are impossible to reject. With your doe eyes and pouty lip, he doesn’t even hesitate to make all your pain go away.

“Need it that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, Doll. Just stay still,” You obey him with a grateful nod as his thigh begins to rock up into you again. It was so much more euphoric this way—having him move while you just feel. Maybe it was a little selfish, but wasn’t that one of the perks of him teaching you? You just got to feel and learn your body.

You hadn’t thought about that part a lot. This entire ordeal was you learning more about yourself. For years you have deprived yourself and avoided all sexual activity for no other reason than fear. Fear of judgment, fear of awkwardness, fear of trust, fear of vulnerability—sex was a huge thing for you. Now, you’re doing things you never could have imagined yourself doing, and you’re doing them with the last person you’d expect; your best friend. But in the strangest and most bizarre way, you couldn’t see your firsts being held by anyone other than Harry. Would you tell him that? Probably not. That might be taken a different way than you mean, and then drama would ensue and that’s not at all what you want.

But what did you mean by it?

“Are y’close? I can feel you clenching on me,” his voice rasps near your ear, sending a shudder throughout your body. You hum a high-pitched sound, seemingly pleasing him. “‘About to come in y’panties? Never thought you’d do that, huh?”

“Mhm,” You hummed again, this time biting your lip as your stomach churned in pleasure. “Touch me, God, please.”

“Are you saying I’m God? ‘Cause that is a great compliment—”

“You’re such an—” he places his lips on your neck, suckling on the spongy part under your ear. You shiver, shutting up immediately. Every word and thought has left you completely, fizzling into the nonexistent. You don’t know if he put his lips on your neck like this last time, but it made you putty on top of him. “Why does that f-feel so good? Please, Harry, I’m right there.”

“‘Cause I’m doing it. Little baby just needed help s’all. That’s right, huh? Say it. Say you needed my help, baby.” Why his words make you feel the way you feel will forever be an unsolved phenomenon to you. There’s a juxtaposition between pain and pleasure and degradation and praise. When he puts you down, he makes sure to pick you right up again, and it might seem toxic, but it was just Harry, and you knew deep down it was all an act. And you liked that.

“I-I needed you, Harry,” A whine fell from your lips, tearing through your throat.

You liked that none of it was deeply serious and you could be what you wanted without the fear of judgment, fear of awkwardness, fear of trust, fear of vulnerability—everything you needed for comfort was there. It was here with Harry. It might all be some type of act, but it felt real. Realer than any other relationship you’ve had.

“C’mon me, Doll.”

You felt his warm hand travel from one hip to your torso. Just the mere feeling of his presence getting lower towards your center sent you over the edge. It was quite embarrassing how his simple touch was all you needed to be folded and whipped, but you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive as a beginner and, on top of it all, so needy and greedy for it. Harry adored that though.

Your orgasm soaked through your cotton panties, while some of the residue landed on Harry’s thigh. An ever-growing smirk was plastered on his face as your heated face finally reentered reality. You quietly gasped when your awareness finally slipped through the orgasmic fog, realizing the mess you made.

“Look at tha’, Doll. Was that better for you? More satisfying?”

“Yes. Thank you, Harry,” You answered wearily, suddenly being slapped with post-orgasm fatigue. The lingering burn in your muscles told you that you were going to be sore tomorrow, but you were too blissed-out to care.

“Don’t be so formal. S’weird,” You rolled your eyes at him. Again, he’s great at ruining a sweet moment. Sexual Harry versus friend Harry were two different people, but you appreciated both. It was just the sharp switches he makes between transitions that makes your head spin with confusion. Harry, your friend, was loud and cocky with a mixture of kindness. Harry, your sexual teacher, was demanding and precise with a mixture of softness. Both comforted you in a way that you hoped you would find in a partner one day; he was the perfect example.

Recognizing him this way really put things in perspective for you–Harry really was teaching what you wanted. And like he said before, maybe you didn’t need to worry about a husband right now. You should be focusing on what you want and that might take some experimenting. Training with Harry was preparing you for that experiment phase. That’s exactly it.

When you take a breath, you’re reminded of how compressed you are to him. You’re comfortable and cozy when you’re this close, and it just felt right. You don’t remember if you’ve always felt like this, but it would make sense if you have. He’s your best friend, of course.

But of course, the moment ends way too soon, and Harry is lifting you off of his lap. He places you beside him on the couch before standing up.

“I’ll go start you a bath and get you some clothes,” Harry leaves for the bathroom, the opposite of last time. Based on the last two times, to you it seems like he leaves too quickly. You never get to fully absorb the aftermath and internalize its meaning. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe Harry knows that if he allowed you the time, you would overthink until you self-destructed and eventually never speak to him again.

You don’t think you could ever do that.

So, like anything you’ve ever done, you’re left alone to analyze the situation. You were aided when you were desperate and Harry was able to mend that ache. But what did that do for him? What was Harry getting out of this arrangement? Was it even an arrangement or just best friends who occasionally do sexual things? Was he doing all of this for you just because he wanted to show you the ropes?

You’re still well-aware of your lack of reciprocation. Out of the two times he’s helped you out, you haven’t been returning the favor. There is this unspoken understanding that everything is about you and that Harry wouldn’t involve himself because what would that teach you? Without him saying anything, you know that Harry doesn’t want you to think that he’s using you for his own pleasure. But at this point in your friendship, you know he wouldn’t do such a thing. Besides, if he needed to have sex that critically, he could just call someone, right? It’s easy to “get some” when you’ve already had it.

Your point being, why haven’t you offered to return the favor? If you did, maybe Harry could give you some pointers and tell you what to do, just like all of the other times. Not only would you know what feels right and pleasurable, but you’d know how to make your partner feel just as positive. Plus, he would be getting pleasure out of it, too. That sounds like a win-win in your book, and probably in Harry’s. But would that be crossing the unspoken boundaries of your friendship? You’ve already traversed through enough together, but how far was too far? Was he basing the limits off of you?

If so, he won’t mind one more session, right?

—

thank you all so much for being patient with me 🩷 i hope this suffices you! part 3

taglist: @pishhhh20989 @harrysslut7 @kathb59 @chronicallybubbly @clarap23 @mrsstylesss @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #fratrry #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fics #harry styles fluff #bestfriend!harry #harry styles the album #harry styles fine line #harries #fine line #love on tour #harry styles gif #harry styles fic #tpwk #treat people with kindness

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Barbie Girl 💄 | Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of Top Gun Maverick

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Barbie!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content warnings: light profanity, fluff | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.3k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @kayla-swiftly)

Premise: They say the sky is the limit and anything you set you’re mind to will be achieved as long as you’re dedicated to it. For most people that testimony is nothing but a mere fantasy. But for one woman, with too many dreams to count on her fingers, she took that statement to heart. Proving you can be anyone you want to be and maybe even a few others give or take 😉

Note: Anyone else obsessed with Barbie lately?? Omg y’all I saw the movie last week and absolutely fell in love and i had this request from around the time the final trailer dropped and knew it was the perfect time to write this. I know I know I haven’t been living up to my promise of being consistent but man they having me working my ass off at my job. Also I’ve been traveling and I saw Big Time Rush last night (i felt like a teenager again and it was amazing 😭) anyway I hope you enjoyed this and let me know what you think!

—————————

“Hi, Barbie!” The familiar greeting fills Y/n’s ears as it does every morning she arrives at the hangar. With it comes an instant smile, hand raising to wave at the person responsible for it, “Hi, Phoenix!”

“Hey there, Barbie,” winks another friendly face.

“Hiiii, Hangman,” her tone is playful like his, turning energetic for Bob when he goes, “Hiya, Barbie!”

“Hi there, Bob!”

“Hey, Barbie.” “Good morning, Barbie.” “What’s up, Barbie Girl.”

“Hello, Rooster.” “Good morning to you too, Fanboy.” “Nothing much, Pay. And yourself?”

Unlike her fellow pilots, clad in their deep green flight suits, Y/n stood out in the crowd for hers was a little unorthodox when one thinks of a naval fighter pilot's uniform.

It was pink. Completely as in her combat boots were also the bright color and the patchers were white and pink tones rather than red, blues, black and any other color seen in the ones attached to her coworkers arms. ‘Barbie’ in pink cursive writing instead of traditional bold Times New Roman lettering.

And don’t forget the little flower dotting the ‘i’.

Growing up, Y/n took ‘you can be anyone and anything you want to be,’ quite literally. At no point was it a joke to her when she would tell her friends and family, “oh I’m gonna be a fashion designer and Olympic Gold medalist when I’m older,” “I wanna go to space, fly in planes, and see all the wonders of the world,” “I’ll be a doctor, a teacher, and movie star!” They’d smile and laugh, thinking it was adorable for a little girl to dream big. No way would it be possible to achieve all of those careers. Everyone only gets one life to live and time goes so fast one can only set their eyes on one path and hope for the best.

But Y/n was a dreamer. And if you’re going to dream, might as well dream big.

All through middle and high school people took Y/n’s intelligence for granted. Focusing more on her beauty rather than brains, it came as an under shock to everyone when Y/n had the credits to graduate at the ripe age of 15. Exceeding in her standardized test scores with a high school resume taking up three pages with extracurricular and academic achievements, she had colleges from all over the country begging for her to apply.

Stanford. Cornell. Pratt. Juilliard. NYU. John Hopkins. Harvard. UCLA. Duke. Top medical and law schools. Ivy League universities. Performing Arts schools calling for auditions after sending scouts to watch her perform in school plays and dance recitals. Coaches from high ranking NCAA gymnastics teams sending emails after emails.

So many to choose from….And so the story of Y/n L/n becoming a real life Barbie Doll begins.

Setting her eyes in New York, Y/n attended not one but two of the best schools in the country. While obtaining her bachelor’s in both astronautical and aeronautical engineering at NYU Y/n also completed a two year degree in Fashion Business Management at the Fashion Institute of Technology. During this time she continued training for the Olympics in hopes of making the 2008 Beijing team in gymnastics.

“How do you do it?” Her roommate at NYU constantly asked. “You go from here to FIT, working on two degrees that are completely on opposite sides of the spectrum and career paths,” she emphasized with hand expressions, “and still have enough to time to go to the gym to practice, eat three meals a day, have all your assignments done early, and sleep a reasonably about of hours each night.” Letting out an exhale, her roommate looks at Y/n as if she’s an alien from another world, “What’s your secret? Are you some kind of Barbie doll the government created as a test robot?”

Each time Y/n would pause, think for a moment before smiling, “I don’t know if I should find that as an insult or compliment, but I’m gonna chose it as a compliment and say it’s because I want to live a life where I can look back on and go, ‘I took a risk and tried something new even if it didn’t look possible but it was all worth it.’”

By the time Y/n turned 20 she had accumulated a vast list of credentials to her name. The list included getting her fashion business degree at 17, Bachelors in astronautical/aeronautical engineering at 19–receiving her Master’s for it at 20–An Olympic Gold and Silver medalist, dancing with the Radio City Rockettes, performing with the NYC Ballet Company in their rendition of Swan Lake, landing a role on Broadway, walking a runway at NY fashion week, and appearing on episodes of SVU, 30 Rock, All My Children, Sex and the City, and Ugly Betty.

So yeah, New York was a success in experiences for Y/n.

Following the high note, she packed her bags to leave the golden apple for the flashing lights of Hollywood, California. This time Y/n was working on her doctorates at USC, running her own business with her fashion degree called ‘Dream Closet’, and auditioning for film and tv shows.

Hollywood was a dream come true just like New York. Again she attended two different schools, this time flight school and USC. During the day she was occupied running from class to the hangar and then the observatory. Coaching dance and gymnastics on the side, designing clothes for her online shop which developed into a pop-up chain store in malls across America.

It wasn’t long until Y/n’s name grew into nationwide popularity. People started realizing the Y/n L/n who won the Gold and Silver medals in the 2008 Olympics was the same one responsible for the most recent fashion trends and guest starring on their favorite tv shows. What really set it in stone was when Y/n landed the role of an engineer officer in the 2009 reboot of Star Trek, going on to appear in both the 2013 and 2016 sequels.

Impressive was the only word her costars could use to describe her. What else was there?

Anytime there was a question involving, “who’s most likely to become president?” “Who’s most likely to try something new or create a new hobby?” “Who’s most likely to win a Nobel Prize?” Along those lines…the answer was obvious.

“Oh Y/n,” Zoe Saldana waves her hand, “Always.”

“Yeah,” Chris Pine agrees with a laugh, “That woman, I-I don’t know how one has the energy to do all that she does—a-and still want to do more.”

The Interviewer laughs with them, “didn’t she just race in the Daytona 500 last year?”

“Yes!! And she did a song with Lady Gaga when they were on American Horror Story,” Zoe’s tone is in absolute awe, “All while teaching at USC and creating new technology at NASA.” Chris lifts a finger.

“Don’t forget she had her own Mac Viva Glam line a couple years ago.” Zoe made a sound along the lines of ‘see what I mean,’.

“I’m telling you, she’s gonna be a name in the history books.”

What all has Y/n accomplished career wise? Let’s take a look.

Model, dancer, actor, singer, fashion designer, entrepreneur, athlete, engineer, race car driver, and professor.

And now she can add pilot to the list. Although she got her license to fly way back in 2009, Y/n didn’t put it to use full time until 2016, wanting to wait until after the release of Star Trek: Beyond to say goodbye to Hollywood for the time being and set forth on her next adventure.

Boy did it come as a surprise what she had planned.

The Manila folder containing her resume hit the desk of the Admiral, his eyes wide as saucers. “You wanna join the Navy?” Reading the front page for a fifth time, Cyclone glanced back at the woman in front of him. Doctor Y/n L/n. Or is it professor L/n? “And you wanna be one of my pilots?”

“Yes, Sir.”

”Ma’am, I apologize if this comes off as offending,” he really didn’t know any other way to put it. “But you are more qualified than any person on this base. Doctorates in aeronautical and astronautical engineering from the University of Southern California,” he counts off on his fingers, “you recently developed a groundbreaking advancement in space technology that’s going to help our astronauts—on the road to becoming a Nobel Prize nominee.” He raises his eyebrows, “And this is only what relates to this career field. I’m not even mentioning your acting, athletic, and fashion credentials. Why join the Navy?”

Y/n only offers a shrug, “I think the better question is, why not?” Cyclone lets out a sigh.

“What did you say your callsign was again?”

“Barbie.”

There was no stopping the small smile trying to break free, “I should’ve guessed.”

After completing OTS there was much debate on what Y/n’s rank would be coming into the Navy. Civilian lawyers and physicians often are Lieutenants (O-3) right away, but considering Y/n had two doctorate degrees and her pilot license they felt it was only fair for her to come in as Commander (O-5). From there Y/n was sent to North Island to attend Fighter Weapons School.

Better known to its flyers as Top Gun.

Y/n was used to the looks she received on a daily basis. From head to toe she was covered in variations of pink depending on what she was feeling. When teaching her briefcase and pantsuit were baby pink, in the labs her coat was hot pink, at auditions she wore pink leather jackets. Even her race car for the Daytona was pink.

Shoutout to Mac cosmetics for the sponsorship.

So it’s no surprise her flight suit would be the color she was known for—despite it being out of regulations.

Being more qualified than your superiors had its perks.

If she could have a pink F-18 she would but unfortunately that wasn’t possible. That was okay for Y/n. After all, she managed to get her own custom flight suit. One which had everyone having to do double takes whenever she walked into a room.

“Is she wearing…?”

“How the hell did they allow that?”

“Does that mean I can have mine in purple?”

Her first day at Top Gun Y/n met Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. They were paired as roommates in the dorms and quickly became good friends. Phoenix was beyond amazed with Y/n’s accomplishments and experiences. Every conversation led to a new discovery. “Do you ever burn out?” Nat stag criss crossed on Y/n’s satin pink bed sheets, admiring her wall of photos from when she traveled to see all the wonders of both the ancient and modern world. “I feel I’d be a walking corpse from exhaustion. And you mentioned you’re still running and designing clothes for ‘Dream Closet’?”

Y/n removed her diamond studs, placing them on her desk she was using as a vanity. “I have a team dealing with the business side of things for the brand. I’m still CEO and creative director—usually I work on designs for a couple hours before bed to prepare for the next launch.”

Nat was in awe, “I have to ask….what’s been the best career you’ve done so far?” A common question Y/n heard, there was never a true answer. She loved every career. They all had their perks and their flaws, but at the end of the day it left her satisfied she achieved them.

“I don’t know yet,” she spoke truthfully, “I still have a few to check off on my list. When that happens I’ll let you know.”

Fast forwarding to 2019, Y/n answered the phone to Admiral Simpson’s voice with the news she needed to report back to North Island for a highly confidential mission. The details were unknown, but Y/n packed her bags, loaded her pink vintage corvette convertible and high tailed it to sunny San Diego.

The squeals initiated by Y/n and Nat the moment she stepped foot in the Hard Deck had heads whipping in their direction. “Hi, Barbie!” Nat’s arms opened for a hug.

“Hi, Phoenix!” Y/n accepted the embrace, still grinning ear to ear. The guys around them were looking at each other like, ‘what the…?’ Y/n wasn’t in her standard Khakis like they were—minus Rooster. She bore a pink denim number with matching boots with her hair curled and pink eyeliner surrounded by tiny rhinestones.

“You got selected too?” Nat complimented her outfit before cutting straight to the point.

“For the special detachment? Looks like it,” she winked.

“What happened to the Artemis program? Weren’t you up as a candidate?”

“Oh I still am,” Y/n affirmed proudly, “They’ll be announcing who’s to be selected in the coming months. So for now I’m still with the Bounty Hunters. Plus,” she leans in to whisper, “this will look good on my resume.” The two giggle before Y/n drifts her gaze to the boggling gazes in front of her. “Oh! I’m sorry for being so rude. I’m Y/n L/n,” extending her hand to the first person who’s name tag read Fitch, Y/n added, “But you can call me Barbie.”

“Barbie,” the blonde holding a pool cue repeated like a question, “like the toy Barbie?” Nat chuckled, throwing an arm around her friend after she was done shaking everyone’s hand as they introduced themselves.

“Fellas, if there is anyone who is a life sized version of Barbie, it’s this one right here.”

“Now, Phee…” Y/n’s tone was that of, ‘Don’t start.’

“It’s true,” the pilot defended. “Not only is she Commander Y/n ‘Barbie’ L/n,” jaws drop, “but she’s Professor and Doctor L/n.” The jaws hit the floor, “On top of founder, creative director and CEO of ‘Dream’s Closet,’” Javy makes a sound, familiar with the brand, “Emmy nominated actress,” Fanboy chokes on his water, “Olympic Gold Medalist and soon to be astronaut for the Artemis program.” By now all the guys are on the verge of losing their minds.

Bob rapidly blinks, “uh—.”

“Now I’m not an astronaut yet,” Y/n points out, “I’m a candidate for one.” Nat scoffs lightly.

“They’d be stupid not to pick you, Barb,” she then slaps her side, turning back to the guys, “Oh and how could I forget Broadway, Vogue, and the Daytona 500.”

“Daytona 500!?” Payback practically screeches.

“You were on Broadway?”

“—featured on Vogue—?!”

“Wait a minute I recognize you from Star Trek!”

“—How in the hell—.”

“Guys, guys!” Y/n laughs with her hands slightly raised, “Please, one at a time.” They were in for a long night of questions and story times. And just like Nat was years prior when she first roomed with Y/n at Top Gun, the officers were in complete amazement over the woman in front of them. Never had they met anyone like her.

“Wow,” Jake whistled once she finished bringing them up to date on her most recent careers. “You really are a real-life Barbie.”

“Shhhh,” a finger went to her lips, followed by a wink, “don’t tell Mattel.”

And thus the dagger squad was formed. Two and half weeks of hell bearing training preceding a face-with-death mission brings people closer. Every morning Y/n arrived at the hangar to a chorus of “Hi, Barbie.”

She waved at Reuben, “Hi Payback.”

“Hey there, Barbie Girl,” Javy threw her a peace sign.

“Hiya, Coyote!”

“Good morning, Barbie,” Rooster tipped his hat.

“Mornin’, Rooster.”

“Hi, Barbie!” “Hi, Barbie!” Her favorite duo harmonized.

“Hi, Bob! Hi, Phee!”

And for some closer than others….

“You know I was thinking,” Jake commented, taking Y/n’s hand before leading her to the pottery class he signed them up for. Every Friday night was reserved for date night. Dinner and a movie. Walk on the beach. Spending $20 worth of quarters at an arcade. Attending a comedy show. Paint and sip. Following the successful mission, Jake and Y/n hit it off and began seeing each other.

“Famous last words.”

“It’s not bad,” a chuckle left his lips, stopping at the door. “I just thought it was funny. You know how you’re basically Barbie?” His cheeky smile resulted in her mirroring it.

“Yessss.”

“This means I’m pretty much your Ken, right?” The question makes the woman visible ‘awe’. Jake ruffles a hand through his hair and gives his best blue steel, “we kinda look alike. Don’t you think?”

Laughing, Y/n kisses his cheek, “I mean…name a more iconic duo than Barbie and Ken.”

“Barbie and Hangman?”

“Exactly.” It was safe to assume what their Halloween costumes were going to be.

Time went on, missions were run. And after a year of anticipation—though it felt like forever, it was finally announced in 2020 Y/n would be one of the astronauts selected to be part of NASA’s Artemis program launching in 2024.

Making Y/n the first woman to go to the moon.

The call came in from a restricted number when they were in a meeting, and knowing she was to expect a call within the month everyone quickly shut up so the pilot could answer.

She excused herself to leave the room, staying in front of the window so the team could see her. Throughout the conversation Y/n’s expression remained neutral to the point none had a clue whether the news was good or bad. Only when she reentered the room did they get the answer.

“I’m going to the moon!!!”

“Ahhh!!!!” The team exploded in an array of cheers, Y/n jumping up and down, careful not to drop her phone that was in her hands when Jake lifted her in his arms.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!” Despite being unauthorized to show pda in uniform, Jake gave her a big kiss on the lips, not caring who saw. “You are the most exceptional human being on this planet.”

“Jake,” tears welled in her eyes, which he kissed away. Her heart filled with warmth and gratitude. Feeling on top of the world with her closest friends supporting her.

Once all calmed down and they finished the meeting, Mickey jumped from his seat, “Come on Barbie, let’s go party!” Everyone sped to the Hard Deck to celebrate the news. Mav bought the first round, followed by Payback.

“Guys you don’t have to do all that,” Y/n said once she realized they all agreed to buy her drinks for the night.

“We want to,” Nat tapped her beer with Y/n’s cocktail glass, the guys voicing agreements. “For years you’ve been dreaming about this and it’s finally happening. Your hard work is paying off and we want to celebrate—show you we love and appreciate you, Barbie.”

Y/n fought back tears, never afraid to show her emotions. Some may find it childish or thinned skin, but to Y/n that was what being human was all about. “I love you guys.”

“We love you!” The voices echoed together.

The night had been going well with the squad hanging out by the pool tables like they usually did when Y/n approached the bar to pick up the next round Mickey was paying for. Not paying attention to those beside her, she smiled at Penny and repeated the order before waiting patiently.

But what’s a night at a bar without someone who lacks boundaries.

“You must be the one they call Barbie,” a voice says, flirtation seeping through the words. Glancing to her right, Y/n recognizes a gentleman from the flight line whose name she could not recall. “You’re quite the talk around base. In fact, weren’t you in some Hollywood blockbuster?”

“Yes,” she politely responds, keeping the answer short. Though she was known to be a sweetheart and kindhearted to anyone she met, Y/n could tell where the interaction was heading toward and did not feel comfortable entertaining it any further. “A long time ago.”

“I’m Lieutenant Paul Billings,” he extended his hand, and she immediately clocked he was trying to show off his rank. ‘Boy he’s in for a treat.’

Not wanting to make a scene, she accepts the handshake. “Commander Y/n L/n,” there was emphasis on the Commander, displaying the woman was of higher rank and therefore a silent warning to Billings to not cross a line.

There was a flash of surprise on his face. Y/n held back an amused laugh, ‘guess you didn’t hear everything.’

“Something the matter, Lieutenant?”

“No,” he brushes it off, “Nothing. Say,” he nods to the bar, “can I buy you a drink.” Did he not just hear her order a round for the people she came with?

“That’s kind of you,” she starts just as Penny arrives with a try full of cold beers and her usual cocktail. “But I’m all set, thank you.” Hands moving to take the tray, she jumps slightly at the feeling of his own coming to her wrist.

“What about lunch this week?”

“I’m sorry but I am spoken for, Lieutenant,” removing his hold, Y/n takes a step away.

Now Paul had lost his reasonable composure. Scoffing, he says, “What? Am I not enough for you?” The question results in her raising a brow.

“I beg your pardon?”

He makes a face, “You think because you’ve done all these careers and occupations that you’re better than the average person? I’m not a pilot and an actor or researching the cure for cancer while creating a documentary series,” venom seeps through his tone, obviously depicting his jealousy, “Basic is not up to your standards, so you have to throw our failures in our face as if we don’t already know.”

By now a crowd has formed. Jake started moving the second he noticed Billings etching too close to his girl, followed by Nat and the others who were ready to back him up. Behind the bar, Penny was fixing to ring the bell until being stopped by Y/n’s wave of the hand.

“Are you done?”

Paul’s expression was that of, “what?” No audible response was voiced therefore Y/n continued.

“Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say this, Paul,” Y/n drops her shoulder. The change in body language let Jake and her friends know she wasn’t taking anything that the man said personally. “I know I should be offended by your insults and insinuations, but the truth is I’m not.” A small smile forms on her lips, “I don’t view myself higher than anyone because of what I accomplished. The only person I do that to, is myself—because I don’t have to prove to no one but me that I am capable of achieving what I set my mind to. And yeah,” a light chuckle escapes, “I’ve set my mind to a lot of things—way more than the average person. But that doesn’t mean you or anyone else can’t do the same.”

Pausing Y/n takes a breath before exhaling, “You look at me, and hate the way it makes you view yourself. Makes you believe you’re a failure because you didn’t follow the path you hoped to make for yourself.” Paul’s expression shifts to one of solemnity, like he was thinking of his younger self who had dreams and aspirations. Mourning what could have been.

It made Y/n sad for him. Empathetic despite him attacking her. “One thing I’ve learned over the years…is time is what you make of it. Life is about taking risks. You can still set out to do whatever it is you wish, as long as you’re committing to taking the risk no matter how scary it is. Sure you’ll find obstacles and it’ll feel like the whole world is against you. But determination will guide you through the walls, and you will be successful so that you can look back and think, ‘it was worth it.’ As cliche as it sounds,” she couldn’t hold back a laugh, “Barbie isn’t a person or an object you can obtain. Barbie is a mindset. And you have to unlock it in your own way, Paul.”

It was so quiet in the building, a pin could drop and everyone would hear it. Their looks of awe, admiration, and even newfound motivation by Y/n’s speech. Impressed by how classy she handled what very well could have been a scream match between rival squadrons.

Behind Billings the Dagger squad stood with proud smirks at their friend. Especially Jake, who caught Y/n’s eyes and threw her a wink. Nat gave the woman a salute, a silent gesture to say, ‘you inspire me everyday.’

And Billings? Well he was at a loss for words.

Patting his shoulder, Y/n grabbed the tray of drinks, “I wish you luck, Paul.” Thanking Penny, who gave her a proud nod and replied, “this ones on the house,” Y/n returned to her friends where she was met with a sweet kiss from Jake, claps on the back and “You go girl!” “Tell them who’s boss.” “Damn, you made me wanna go out there and live life the way I should.”

“What’s stopping you, Javy?” she handed him a beer, “the world is your playground.”

A couple hours later it was time to call it a night. Hugs went around, promises to meet up the following night and tabs were closed.

On their way out, Jake dropped a kiss to Y/n forehead, pulling her close to him as he led her to the door of the parking lot, “So what’s next for you, doll? You’ve proved you can be anything and anyone you chose to be,” he grins at her, “What will you set your mind to now after space?”

“First, I want to write a book—I think that’s something a lot have been waiting for me to do. Afterwards, well, I’ll have to wait a couple more years, but,” The corner of Y/n’s lips lift up before flashing a dazzling smile, “I’m thinking….the Oval Office is in need of a makeover. Don’t you think?”

Then, before he could answer, Y/n turns her head in the opposite direction as if she’s trying to find a hidden camera. Makes eye contact with you, the reader, winking before turning back to Jake where she sets off on her next adventure.

…………….

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[mrsensitive]

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did

a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋

1

You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.

When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.

Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.

“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”

You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.  

“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.” 

You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”

“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”

You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead. 

Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.

“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”  

You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”

“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing. 

“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”

Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated. 

You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.

“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”

2

You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.

“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.

“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”

“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”

“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”

“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”

And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.

“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!” 

You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”

“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.” 

“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.

“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”

Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.

You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”

“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.

“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”

Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.

“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”

Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.

“Wanna take bets?”

3

Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.

“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’

As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all. 

When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.

“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”

You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”

He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”

“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.

“Let me show you around!”

You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.

Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is. 

“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.

You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.

He doesn’t quite hear her at first.

“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”

Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.” 

His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.

“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”

“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.

She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.

“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”

“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”

Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.

“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”

“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”

This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.

A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.

Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?! 

Brock: I like movies too :))

4

For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.  

If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew? 

Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.

You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost. 

You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust. 

Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”

You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.

You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”

“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.

“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.

“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”

“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.

Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other’s expressions. 

In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.

“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down. 

“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.

“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”

He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.” 

He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door. 

Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.

He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home. 

You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”

“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out. 

He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.

He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”

“Is it shooting here as well?”

“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.

“So you’re gonna do it?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”

Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.

“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”

When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.

“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”

He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.

You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.

He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.

+ 1

Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.

You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.

“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.

“No.”

Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”

Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”

Quinn only stares at him in response.

“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”

There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.

“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”

“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”

Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”

Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.

“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.

“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”

Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.

“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”

“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”

“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”

“I’m what?!”

“You heard me.”

There’s a pause.

“Are you home right now?”

“Ye-”

You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”

Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”

You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”

You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.

“Fine.”

You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.

Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.

Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring. 

When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it. 

Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)

– Beau

You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.

Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.

Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)

It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between. 

You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.

You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump. 

“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom. 

You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume. 

“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”

When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.

You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.

“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”

You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match. 

“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”

Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”

You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.

“No, I think it’s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.

“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way. 

You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.

“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there. 

You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”

On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.

It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway. 

Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.

Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.

Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.

Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.

“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”

Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.

“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”

“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”

“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.

You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.

“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”

He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.

“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”

“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.

Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.

“Can I kiss y-”

“Please.”

His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.

When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.

“I, uh-”

“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”

You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb. 

You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.

#a result of the freak behaviour quinn has been displaying as of late... like sorry i am just a Girl #actually he did all that and then i turned around and wrote over 6.5k about him so . whats more freakish im not sure anymore #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #📝

[munsonsduchess]

Monster Smash

summary: you meet eddie at a house party and the night takes an unexpected turn warnings: underage drinking, recreational drug use (weed), face sitting, oral (f receiving), semi public sex (eddie and the reader are in a room at a frat house during a party) w/c: 977 a/n: surprise bitch! another halloween fic! honestly with the amount of ghostface content on tiktok these days it was kind of inevitable we'd end up here, i was originally just going to post the other halloween fic but this one wouldn't leave me alone

It was Halloween and you were having the worst time. You didn’t know anyone at this party your roommate had dragged you to, citing that you needed to get out more, the drinks were shit, the music was shit, honestly you were tempted to just sneak out the back door of this frat house and claim you’d met somebody if your roommate asked the next day. 

You sighed and took another drink from your lukewarm beer and pulled at the hem of the black dress you were wearing. Usually you didn’t feel self conscious in the things you picked for yourself but being, less petite, than some of your peers and wearing something your roommate had picked out so you could both wear matching costumes (you got to be the bad witch) in a room full of obnoxious frat bros made you feel slightly … less confident than normal. 

You were about to cut and run when a guy appeared in front of you wearing a Ghostface Costume,

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“The Exorcist, 1973. A masterpiece in horror cinema” you responded without thinking. You hadn’t actually expected anyone to talk to you, after being basically ignored all night

“That’s, yeah that’s a really good pick” the guy pulled his mask off and you found yourself looking into the face of the local weed guy, Eddie Munson. 

Everyone you knew, yourself included, bought their weed from Eddie. His stuff was guaranteed to be the best and not laced with anything it shouldn’t be,

“It’s the line from the homeless guy in the subway ‘can you help an old altar boy father’ and then later on when they’re in Regan’s bedroom and she says the same thing in the same voice. Chills. Literal chills” 

“Such a good movie. They don’t make movies like that anymore, y’know? Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Rosemary’s Baby” 

“Have you seen X? Or Pearl? They have the same kinda vibes but are totally modern movies” 

“I’ve seen X. Massive Texas Chainsaw vibes” 

“Right!” 

You ended up finding a quiet corner with Eddie where the two of you could talk about horror movies for the rest of the evening. You’d honestly never really found anyone who loved horror the way you did so it was amazing to be able to vibe with someone like this. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👻 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

The party raged on into the wee hours and by now both you and Eddie were feeling the effects of the beer and few joints you’d shared. You were feeling pleasantly buzzed and enjoying the attention of an attractive man, even if it wouldn’t go anywhere. 

“It’s so cool that you’re into horror, most people get freaked out or maybe enjoy those like conjuring movies”

“Ugh. The Warrens are the absolute worst, by all accounts they just scam people and then use their stories to write books and make more money” you gestured widely around the room, “how fucked is that?”

“Totally fucked” Eddie agreed 

“You know I almost didn’t come tonight but my roommate kinda forced me to” 

“Remind me to send your roommate a fruit basket or something as thanks then” Eddie said, “cause this is definitely a way better night than I thought it was gonna be”

“It’s so cool to meet a friend tonight” you agreed, “but aren’t you like ‘working’ the party?” 

Eddie laughed and you had to admit you loved the sound. You wondered if he would want to still be friends after the party was over,

“You’re cute. I mean sure it’s great talking like this but honestly, I saw you standing on your own and seriously couldn’t understand why cause just the sight of you in that dress had all the blood in my body run south. I mean, the fact that you’re awesome on top of being drop dead hot is a bonus”

Your brain short circuited for a moment and you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing,

“So, you wanna get a room?” 

“Absolutely I do”

Eddie smirked wickedly at you before helping you off the couch and pulling you behind him to the main staircase and along a corridor to an empty room. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👻 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Sit on my face, come on” Eddie grinned at you, taking one of your hands and pulling you towards the bed. 

You followed the tug and threw one leg over the bed and balanced on your knees. Before you could even try to think about how much weight to bear down you felt Eddie grab your hips and pull you down onto his face forcefully. 

There was no way you could focus on anything but the way Eddie licked into you hungrily. His hands on your hips dug into the flesh there and you threw your head back with the intense feelings, moaning loudly. 

“Oh my god Eddie”

Beneath you Eddie made a muffled noise which you assumed was positive since he didn’t stop what he was doing for even a moment. 

You wondered briefly how he could breathe but the thought left your mind as quickly as it had arrived when Eddie’s nose brushed against your clit and you saw stars. 

Eddie continued to suck and lick you through your orgasm and the aftershocks, the oversensitivity made you want to pull away but Eddie held you firm coaxing yet another orgasm from you until your legs began to shake. Only then did he allow you to pull away and catch your breath,

“Holy shit” you panted, trying to regain some of your self control,

“That’s only the warm up act baby. It’s just you and me and no one is gonna hear you when you scream my name as loud as you want to” 

This was definitely a way better night than you’d thought it would be when your roommate forced you out tonight. 

After all what was Halloween without a few screams?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #edddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #halloween fic #duchess.txt #halloween smut #duchess writes

[inkdragon1900]

I’m rewatching TDP all the way up to S5’s release. So as I’m watching the credits for S2 ep 4 (because why would I skip them) this shows up.

I remember thinking this one was funny and a cute reference to The Great Gatsby when I first watched it. But since then I’ve read and watched Gatsby more times than I can count. Genuinely my favorite classic.

And it got me thinking. Why??? Why would they specifically reference this?

We all know they’ll throw in stuff in the credits we get to see or understand in the future (Ethari, Queen Aditi, etc)

So why this?

Time to combine two of my hyperfixations.

Most of this will be in reference to the 2013 adaptation of The Great Gatsby directed by Baz Luhrmann since that’s where the scene of Gatsby toasting in front of the fireworks comes from.

So how does Gatsby’s story work with Aaravos’s?

Well after mulling it over I can actually think of quite a few.

So in S2 episode 4 we get basically our first actual introduction to Aaravos sure he’s got no actual dialogue yet and we did see a flash of him in the episode prior. But this is narratively our first actual introduction.

Now interesting enough we as viewers find out we have seen him before. Multiple times with the intro we see his hands, and in the first episodes backstory we see him in the background and he’s the narrator.

So if it’s not necessarily our first introduction to Aaravos then who’s is it?

Viren.

Viren I’m going to insert in Nicks role in TGG just cause it makes sense narratively.

Now in TGG this scene:

Happens directly during Nick’s first actual interaction with Gatsby.

Now it should be mentioned this is not the first time they’ve seen each other. In fact it’s stated that Nick was being watched by his neighbor Gatsby for…idk a while.

And like Nick knew it he’d catch a glimpse of his hand in the window from time to time he just didn’t know it was Gatsby.

But anyway once again this fits with the fact we know Aaravos has been watching Viren from the other side probably the entire time.

So!!! Why does this matter.

Because in TGG no one knows shit about Gatsby. The mother fucker is elusive.

Literally at the party Nick is trying to track him down to thank him and LITERALLY no one knows what he looks like they just showed up to the party. Nick is literally the only person to have been invited because Gatsby just thought he’d show up like the rest of New York.

So while Nicks looking for Gatsby we get introduced to the most WILD theories about this man.

So anyway after getting shitface Nick and this woman Jordan (who’s a friend of his cousin Daisy) jokingly go exploring the house “looking” for Gatsby. (They’re not they’re just drunk af and having fun)

Anyways while exploring they end up in the mansion’s library. As they’re goofing around this older guy browsing the stacks starts telling them that they won’t find him and how the house and everything in it is an elaborate facade. (He’s right of course) so Jordan says she’s met him. And the guy asks them which version? The prince? The spy? The murderer? And goes on to say that he can’t find anyone who knows anything real about Mr. Gatsby.

And like if that’s not true for Aaravos, I don’t know what is.

Because all we know about Aaravos narratively has been told to us. We haven’t seen anything. Not really.

So who is he really?

Plus Gatsby’s main flaw is his attachment to the past his absolute refusal to move on.

And idk Aaravos more or less can’t actually move on since he’s imprisoned. But even narratively he stuck mentally where he was before imprisonment.

And that’s just another one of the many parallels I can draw.

Hell we don’t even get Gatsby’s backstory until the end of the movie pretty much and we barely know anything about Aaravos and we’re already headed into season 5.

Anyways I have a ton more thoughts on the comparison to Aaravos and Gatsby. I don’t want to spoil the ending of TGG for anyone who hasn’t read/watched it. GO READ OR WATCH IT. So I might eventually make a separate post.

Oh one other thing. The new money vs old money narrative in TGG could easily be reworked to fit Human’s learning magic (dark magic or not) and being born into an arcanum. And like Gatsby is new money which fits with Aaravos managing to connect to all the arcanum’s

#the dragon prince #tdp #aaravos #the great gatsby #the dragon prince theory #i have a lot of thoughts

[selenitesdawn]

Scoops Ahoy

pairing : max mayfield x buckley!reader

warnings : none

summary : y/n is robin’s younger sibling and loves hanging out at scoops ahoy with their sister and steve. and they are even happier when max and el come walking in with some pretty big news.

First Person POV

“No because that movie was boring as hell.”, Robin said while browsing through the same magazine she’s been reading the past few days.

“Literally not true but whatever you say.”, Steve replied while doing his hair in the reflection of the fridge.

We’ve been sitting in the back room of Scoops Ahoy for about half an hour now, since no one decided to come in. The past few weeks I would spend most of my time here. First and foremost, because of the free ice-cream. Secondly, because I surprisingly actually enjoy spending time with my sister and Steve. And lastly, my friend group isn’t really my favorite place to be at the moment. We didn’t fight or anything, but since El and Mike started dating, Lucas and Max have their thing going on and Dustin left for camp the entire summer, I didn’t really enjoy hanging out with them any longer. Will and I would meet up occasionally and play D&D, but besides that, I haven’t seen them much. Hearing Max and El just gush about their boyfriends all the time actually made me throw up. Especially whatever the hell is going on between Max and Lucas gave me the ick for some reason.

“But what do you know about movies Harrington?”, asked Robin, raising her eyebrow.

“Well, I-, I’ve watched movies before. What are you? Some kind of professional movie watcher?”, Steve responded acting offended.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am. Plus I’ve got great taste. Tell him y/n.”, Robin countered.

“Yup, she’s got great taste.”, I responded.

“Of course you would say that y/n. Robin basically blackmails you with free ice-cream. But guess what y/n, I can give you just as much ice-cream, plus I can scoop way better than her.”, Steve said confidently.

“I would love to keep listening to you lying but I think somebody just came in. See you losers.”, and with that Robin was gone.

After Robin left I was just about to keep arguing about the fact that there is no way one person can scoop ice-cream better than another, but then I heard my sister calling for me.

“It’s your friends y/n!”, she shouted from the other side.

I guessed Will would come in to see me, so I got up and went to the counter. Because who else would come to visit me at this point. But to my surprise, it were the two people I would have least expected to see.

“Hi y/n!”, El said while smiling ear to ear. Max looked just as suspicious. Although I was more than happy to finally see them again in a long long time, I couldn’t help myself but feel weird about it.

“What is going on?”, I asked, obviously confused.

“Nothing.”, Max shrugged.

They looked at each other funny and their grin just widened.

“Yup, I’m out. I’ll be in the back if you need me.”, Robin said patting my shoulder.

Robin left me standing awkwardly behind the counter, not knowing what to say or do. The entire situation just felt really uncomfortable and now I expected the worst. What if they tell me that they want to marry their boyfriends? No, they aren’t that stupid. Or are they? No they aren’t. Being so caught up in my thoughts, I missed Max now standing right besides me, pulling me towards a table by my arm. She pushed me onto a chair and sat down in front of me with El next to her.

“Listen, you guys make me really nervous and I feel really uncomfortable right now. If there’s one thing I learned during summer, it’s that we all need to communicate our feelings more openly. So I’ll start-“

“I broke up with Lucas.”, Max almost shouted, interrupting my heartfelt speech.

“And Mike lied to me. I’m really upset with him.”, El added.

“So we went shopping to remind El that boyfriends are stupid anyways and life can be just as fun without them.”

“Friends don’t lie but boyfriends do all the time.”, El grinned while nodding.

“Yes, that’s what I taught her.”, Max said.

I stayed silent for a minute, checking their faces to see if they were lying. In fact, they were telling the truth. A grin spread across my face and I couldn’t help myself but feel happy about Max’s confession.

“Besides, we’ve been bad friends to you. We neglected you and our friendship during the past weeks and we are-“, Max started.

“-really sorry.”, El finished the sentence.

I got up and hugged both of them, smiling from ear to ear.

“Forgive and forget right.”, I said, knowing well that I forgive but never forget. But they didn’t need to know that.

“And uhm, if you want to, you can join us y/n.”, Max almost whispered.

“Sure, I would love to.”

“Great. But I really need to go to the toilet first.”, El replied while getting up.

After El left for the toilet, there was an awkward silence between Max and I. We’ve never had those before. Before her and Lucas hit it off again, we would hang out almost every day. We had sleepovers, went to the arcade, had hour-long walks, watched the stars at night, visited abandoned places, skipped school together just so we could go to the skate park before anyone else was there. But when Lucas and Max got back together, we met less and less until we didn’t see each other at all.

“So uhm.. How have you been?”, Max asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh just fine. I’ve been spending most of my time with Robin and Steve actually.”

“Great.”, she said, pressing her lips together.

“How about you?”, I asked, taking a seat next to her.

“Just fine. I just..”, she went silent for a second. “I just missed you I guess. Like, a lot. Maybe. But I know it’s my fault so I shouldn’t whine about it whatsoever. I just want you to know that I missed you.”

Max tried to hide the blush that crept upon her face but I didn’t miss that tiny moment of sincerity in her eyes. Her hands went straight to cover her face, seemingly embarrassed of her feelings towards the situation. I reached out to grab her wrist, softly pulling it towards me, away from her face.

“It’s okay Max. I missed you too, you know. Like, a lot.”, I gave her a soft smile, which she returned gratefully.

She grabbed my hand, interwining our fingers with one another. Her smile was contagious. The way her entire face lights up the second the corners of her mouth go up has always made me feel warm inside. Her thumb gently brushed over the back of my hand, while she starred at my face.

“Are you alright Max?”

“Yeah, I just wondered how I never-“

Max stopped herself from continuing since El made her way back to the table. She took her hand back to herself and smiled at her.

“Should we go?”, El asked.

“Sure, I’ll just grab my things, be right back.”

I sprinted towards the back room, just to see Robin and Steve peeping through the door slot. They greeted me with suspicious smiles, acting even weirder than usual.

“Okay, what’s going on?”, I questioned them.

“You like Max.”, Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You like her. We saw everything.”, Steve added.

Robin rolled her eyes. “Great Steve, that’s really-“

“Did you stalk us? Wow that’s gross.”

“No-, we- we didn’t, I mean- not literally-“, Steve tried explaining himself.

“You messed up Harrington, give up.”, Robin nudged his shoulder and went back to reading her magazine.

I quickly grabbed my backpack and left the shop, not wanting to support their suspicions. But walking towards Max, seeing her smile at me, I caught myself thinking, maybe I do like her.

#max mayfield #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield x you #maxine mayfield #max mayfield imagine #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eleven x reader #jane hopper #stranger things #stranger things reader insert

[empirearchives]

unpopular opinion but the new film may be eventually seen as a comedy due to how UNINTENTIONALLY funny it was 💀

I haven’t even seen it 😭😭😭 But everything I’ve heard sounds dreadful. I’m honestly curious because I actually enjoy some dark comedies.

Some of the lines I’ve heard (“destiny has brought me this lamb chop” “you think you’re so great because you have ✨boats✨” “I’m not built like other men”) sound so unimaginably dumb that I kind of vibe with its unabashed ridiculousness and absurdity. Like okay that could be camp and funny depending on the delivery and I could be into that.

But then….. other things I’ve heard have me literally like this

Idk if it’s been exaggerated or not, but it just sounds so bad. I despise the things I’ve read about how they try to sexually humiliate Napoleon. That sounds so disgusting to me. I hate the way they intentionally treat him like a non-person (mind you they are so obsessed with him that they spent millions of dollars on this). And more than anything, I especially hate the way they apparently scapegoat him for everything at the end of the film.

Like okay, they make fun of him the entire time. That’s fine. I do that, too! He was a really funny dude 😁😆 both intentionally and unintentionally. There’s actually a ton of potential for a comedy film. But, instead, they went with making Character Assassination: The Movie. It sounds like just another coalition propaganda film which is more brain dead and defamatory than humorous or comedic.

There actually have been a few comedies about Napoleon that I liked (hello Zelenskyy). I don’t really mind the idea of some historical inaccuracies. What’s more important is the story they’re trying to tell. But the actors and filmmakers in this one have shown so much contempt for the subject in the interviews that I honestly don’t know if I can bring myself to watch it. Almost everything I’ve heard has made me laugh more from discomfort and awkwardness. I have been trying to lol at this whole fiasco, I’m just not sure I’m the right target audience 🤷‍♀️

#napoleon (2023) #Ridley Scott’s Napoleon #joaquin phoenix #ridley scott #napoleon bonaparte #Napoleon #Napoleon movie #Napoleon film

[unfriedough]

hii! i have a request if that's ok .

for this request you can do either a modern au just just a regular avatarverse because i believe it works both ways (though i think its way better with modern)

basically the girls of the gaang out together for a little girls night out and the guys are just hanging out together. they talk about their girls a little bit but then a storm rolls in and its HEAVY. fiance!zuko (or husband) you know starts to panic a little bit because reader isn't really answering the phone (if chosen modern au), and theirs like a pretty ugly storm. reader DOES come back eventually soaking wet/sneezing and coughing, zuko is kind of like 😟😟, and the rest of the fic is just zu taking care of soaked and cold reader and its all fluff at the end!

💗💗

‘The common cold’- Modern!Zuko x female!reader

Masterlist <3

An: HIYA!  Literally, I love you. I LOVE MODERN AU’S IM SO HAPPY YOU REQUESTED!!!!!! 🫶 Side note: I’m aware it’s almost been like a month since I’ve posted, and I really don’t know what to say other than sorry! (Though, I can’t guarantee it won't happen again, school starts soon :’))

Summary:

Read request :) SET IN MODERN AU!!!

Warnings: stressed zuko tbh, super duper cheesey, pet names ig

“Last week, Suki took me bowling! It was sooo much fun!”

“Were you any good?” Aang replied, interested in Sokka’s most recent endeavours.

The boy huffed in return, hanging his head, “No, I flopped so hard, you don’t even know.” he paused, before looking back up, “What about you, what did you do?”

Aang grinned, “Katara and I spent the day indoors, bingeing her favourite show! To be completely honest, I didn’t really understand what was going on.” he frowned, before smiling as he recalled how she laughed at a joke he didn’t get, then looked at him in shock when she realised he didn’t laugh.

Aang turned to Zuko, tilting his head, waiting for him to add his own side of the story, Sokka doing the same. 

“What?”

“What did you and Y/n do?” the brown haired one asked, an encouraging look on his features.

He looked between the two, getting a middle school boy sleepover vibe from the atmosphere. Alas, he didn’t mind sharing, “We had a picnic by the beach.”

“Was it romantic?” Aang asked.

Zuko blinked twice in his direction - what else would it be?

“What do you think?”

“I’ll take that as a yes…” he rubbed his neck sheepishly.

“Anything else?” Sokka asked, feeling like he ended the conversation too fast.

Well, there were plenty of other things you did! You baked a few recipes you’d seen online, struggling to follow the complex instructions, causing a messy end result, but two very proud individuals. Zuko recalls lecturing you after you had some of the raw batter, and you simply wiped some off of the spoon and onto his nose - your husband wasn't very amused. You also made him take a few quizzes online, ranging from which (Favourite game) character are you, to what’s your love language, to ‘create a desert and we’ll tell you what kind of spouse you’re looking for!’. He was highly sceptical of the last one. By the end of that session, you had established that zuko was an introverted-triple chocolate fudge cookie-alien with no favourite colour - he was 99% sure that was inaccurate. Although, his favourite was when you two dressed in your most fanciest outfits, and danced around the house, bodies rhythmic and in sync, despite no music playing. Only sounds coming from the gentle hums leaving your body, content from being held by your lover. He wished that moment never ended, he wasn’t exactly sure how to tell you that a thought you had on a whim is now his go-to romantic activity. Maybe it was the silliness of it all, every new day punctuated with weird games and jokes. He was a fan though.

Sokka nodded, deciding not to push the man’s limits, and turned on the large tv. The movie playing was nothing more than a low budget horror film - if you could even refer to it as that. The CGI was poorly conducted, and the story line was nonsensical. Aang and Sokka enjoyed it though, ‘the tackier, the better’ - their words, not his. Just as the three relaxed into their seats on the large sofa, a loud jumpscare came up, the villain flashing onto the screen along with a horrible screech. It wouldn't have been that scary, if it weren’t for the sudden bolt of lighting striking the nearby ground. The younger two jumped, screaming, grabbing onto anything close to them.

Sokka nodded, deciding not to push the man’s limits, and turned on the large tv. The movie playing was nothing more than a low budget horror film - if you could even refer to it as that. The CGI was poorly conducted, and the story line was nonsensical. Aang and Sokka enjoyed it though, ‘the tackier, the better’ - their words, not his. Just as the three relaxed into their seats on the large sofa, a loud jumpscare came up, the villain flashing onto the screen along with a horrible screech. It wouldn't have been that scary, if it weren’t for the sudden bolt of lighting striking the nearby ground. The younger two jumped, screaming, grabbing onto anything close to them.

Sokka nodded, deciding not to push the man’s limits, and turned on the large tv. The movie playing was nothing more than a low budget horror film - if you could even refer to it as that. The CGI was poorly conducted, and the story line was nonsensical. Aang and Sokka enjoyed it though, ‘the tackier, the better’ - their words, not his. Just as the three relaxed into their seats on the large sofa, a loud jumpscare came up, the villain flashing onto the screen along with a horrible screech. It wouldn't have been that scary, if it weren’t for the sudden bolt of lighting striking the nearby ground. The younger two jumped, screaming, grabbing onto anything close to them.

“What was that!” Aang yelled, looking out of the window.

“Talk about bad timing.” Sokka sighed, the storm becoming more prominent outside.

The rain stuck to the big window, the outside view becoming more blurry. Zuko’s breath hitched as he realised you were out, immediately tugging at his phone, unlocking it, and searching for your contact.

“What’re you doing?” 

“Calling Y/n.”

“Oh my god.” Sokka immediately rushed to get his cellphone, Aang just as fast.

Zuko walked into your shared bedroom, picking at his fingers anxiously as he awaited the calling screen to switch from ringing to the numbers. As soon as he heard your voice he put the phone up to his ear.

“Yn where are-”

“Hi! This is Yn’s voicemail, please leave a message after the beep!” 

His heart sank, and he suddenly felt light headed. Zuko didn’t cope well under stress, especially when he didn’t know where you were.

And so he called again. And again. And again... Only to get no response. On the 7th try, it stopped ringing, only calling - you had no service. He officially couldn’t reach you.

“Any luck?” the ponytailed guy said, leaning on the door frame, staring at Zuko’s back, who was now sitting on the far edge of your shared bed.

Zuko shook his head, dropping it into his hands.

Sokka rounded the frame and sat next to him, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly,

“I’m sure she’s okay, her phone probably just died,” he smiled.

“Yeah but how about Suki or Katara or Toph? All of their phones died?”

“Suki never charges her phone before leaving the house, Katara’s phone probably got waterlogged, and Toph never answers anyways.” he shrugged, masking his anxiety with false coolness.

“I guess so,” they both knew that didn’t make Zuko feel better.

Just then, Aang ran into the room, heaving, “GUYS! KATARA’S CAR JUST PULLED INTO THE DRIVEWAY!” 

The boys immediately perked up, a bright smile on Sokka’s face. They sped to the door and opened it, finding you fumbling with your keys, with the three other girls behind you. Zuko’s face lit up, and he immediately engulfed you in probably the warmest hug you’ve ever felt.

“Hey,” you whispered, grinning. “I’m home,”

You knew he was probably anxious, judging by his shaky body, and furrowed brows. He had the tendency to project a face of anger when faced with fear and uncertainty. But you knew better. Zuko was just worried for you - and rightfully so.

He let you go afterwards, leaning back with his arms still on your elbows, examining the wetness on your clothes. 

“What took you so long?”

“It wasn’t long at all? The storm only got worse like 5 minutes ago?”

“It definitely didn’t feel like just 5 minutes, Yn” he said sternly, almost like that of a father to his kid who played in the mud. It was cute how worried he was.

Everyone stepped into the house, not forgetting to remove their shoes by the little shoe cabinet by the door, the one you decorated with stickers on a day much like this one, muddy and rainy. The stickers have since then chipped and faded, but the memory the hold within will always be sweet. You immediately went to your room, wincing at the feelings of your wet socks against the ground, a change of clothes being your objective. Zuko joined you in the room as you stripped down, throwing you a pile of fresh pj’s and socks. As you finally felt the warmth of the newly out of the laundry outfit, another, even stronger, warmth covered you. You leaned into him, the scent of his masculine perfume flooding your senses. It was one you picked out for him, seeing as though it smelt less like a scent and more like a feeling. Like the feeling of a cold winter day being ended with a cozy sleep under the soft sheets of a cabin, far in the woods. You loved it, and so did he. It’s been the one he’d dawned for ages now, refusing to swap it out no matter what. He sighed, kissing you softly. You pushed him away, shaking your head.

“Zuko, I think I’m sick. Don’t risk it.”

“Are you sure?” He said, eyes saddened, an irresistible pout on his face.

As if on cue, you sneezed. Not once, not twice but three times in a row, only slightly quieted by your sleeve. Your husband stared in shock, before snapping out of his trance and making his way to the medicine cabinet, passing you a pill for the common cold, mumbling things incoherently all the while. Whilst you took it, he gave suki, toph and katara some clothes you kept for sleepovers with your friends, he always loved your over the top preparations. Then, back to the room he went. He helped you under the soft, warm covers, pulling up the blankets to engulf your shaking body. Definitely a cold. Zuko’s hand was placed against your forehead, warm to the touch. Definitely a cold. Then he got the thermometer, it read 37 degrees Celsius. Yeah, definitely a cold. He sighed, shutting the lights as he left the room to let you rest, check in on the other couples + Toph in the guest bedrooms. Checking up on you again, he realised you fell asleep. Zuko neared your side of the bed cautiously, careful not to disturb your sleeping form. Gently, your lover neared his face to yours, planting an ever so gentle peck on your forehead, before moving back, standing up straight again. He sighed as he walked to the kitchen, already using his mobile phone to research different soup recipes, attempting to find one that actually seemed appetising.

The boy ended up settling on a classic, and began his cooking endeavour. Sure, he wasn’t the best at it, but the effort was there. As the mixture brewed, he moved on to making a drink. Hot chocolate. The brown mixture was being stirred by the spoon as he added sugar, before topping it with three marshmallows, soft and squishy - much like how he was acting, soft and- well maybe not squishy. Moving on from the beverage, he used a ladle to scoop some of the soup into a bowl, then put the bowl onto a tray, beside the drink. He texted the group chat to let the other boys know to grab some soup for the sick if they wanted, before shutting his phone. His sole attention needed to be on you and you only. He took off his home slippers, the cheap ones you bought him as a joke - but he’d grown to love, and stepped into the room, socked feet barely making a single noise. He carefully slotted the tray on his bedside table, and slowly got into the bed, staring at you all the while. Zuko’s arm carefully stroked your covered arms, his feather light touch calling you out of your sweet dreams and into your very lightheaded reality. You groaned, shaking a bit after gaining consciousness.

“Hey love, I made you some soup.” you turned over, Zuko’s eyes staring lovingly at you. 

You smiled, slowly sitting up so you could consume it. As you reached for the spoon, he pulled it back, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t even want you to move a muscle.” you rolled your eyes, and he fed you a spoon full of the soup, the flavours actually quite nice to the taste.

“Hm, where’d you get this?”

“Why? You don't like it?”

“No, the opposite actually,” you laughed dryly, your throat hoarse.

“Oh” he blushed a little, “I made it.”

“You’ve improved!” you giggled, “They grow up so fast!” you wiped a mock tear from your eye.

He swatted your hand away from your face, a fake angry look on his face, “No moving,”

Although, nothing could disguise the blush from the compliments. He was always a sucker for your affection. Could you blame him though?

Zuko slotted the spoon of broth into your mouth again, the hot liquid running down your throat, helping to warm it momentarily. He then leaned back, passing you the cup of hot chocolate, which he had fit into your favourite cup warmer. Your hands gently brushed his as you took the drink, a grateful smile on your features, one that warmed his nerve wrecked heart. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“Mmm,” you mumbled into the mug, “It’s so good, thank you,”

He hummed in acknowledgment, placing the half finished soup aside after you signalled you don’t want any more, before going back to his original criss-cross sitting style. He watched you gulp the drink down intently.

“Careful, it’s hot.” his voice rang as you took the final sip of the concoction. 

“You’re hot,” you replied, lowering the cup from your face. 

He chuckled, hiding his bashfulness with his hands, “Shut up,”

Collecting the mug from your hands, the boy popped it onto the tray on the bedside table, turning his attention back to you. A sigh left his lips as he checked your temperature, you sniffling in the process. You grabbed his hand off of your forehead, lowering it to your cheek, and pressing a gentle kiss into it. 

“I’m fine Zuko, it’s just a cold,”

“Luckily. Could've been worse.”

“And how so?”

“I- uh,” he paused, “I don’t know. Just could’ve,”

“We’ll, it wasn’t. I’m here, I’m safe, and I’m with you. Nothing to worry about sweetie,” 

He shrugged, anything could happen after all. 

You cupped his cheeks, your cold hands causing him to scrunch his nose. You giggled at your husband’s reaction, kissing the top of his head lovingly. He stared at you with wide, adoring eyes, and you tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. 

“Thank you zuko,” you whispered to him, a grin on your face.

He tilted his head sideways, thank you for what? You understood the implication of the motion.

“For taking care of me,”

“It’s the bare minimum.”

You laughed, “it’s still sweet”

He mumbled something against your palms, something about your standards being weirdly low, before kissing your hand - an act of physical love he learned from you. 

Slowly, zuko removed your arms from his face and laid you down again, pulling the blanket over your body once again. Your fever had gone down drastically now that you’ve eaten and had something warm for your throat. But you were still severely dehydrated. He pointed to the drink next to you - water obviously - and said the following: “If you get thirsty, please drink, it’s right there.”

And you nodded happily, eyes already droopy. A yawn left your mouth as you rolled over, going from a position on your back to a position facing him - on your side. You watched him through half lidded eyes get up and change out of the clothes he was in, in favor of putting on fresh pj’s. He rolled his eyes playfully as he noticed your stare, leaving the room as he tugged the shirt over his head. 

The man’s socked feet made a pitter patter type noise as he traversed the hall which housed the rooms your friends were staying in, making sure they were cozy and situated, and alerting them of the different toiletries and essentials you had stocked for this occasion. He gave the men some of his spare pajamas, before leaving to head back to you, a good night leaving his lips as he does. He yawned as he entered the room again, slipping under the sheets next to you. Zuko watched your chest rise and fall with each breath, reminding himself that you were here, and you were safe. Though, he couldn’t sleep. Not one bit. His body was tired, but sleep wasn’t coming to him. For the simple reason that you weren’t by his side, snuggled up against him. He knew you would yell at him if he cuddled up with you, he would get sick after all. But what’s a little cold gonna do? Careful not to wake you up, he scooted closer, wrapping an arm around you. Your body gladly accepted the invitation, spreading your arms over his waist, and your head onto his shoulder. Content, he sighed, a smile playing on his lips, knowing this is the calm before the storm - the storm being the lecture he was bound to hear first thing in the morning. ‘Zuko you could’ve gotten sick!’ He laughed at the thought, your angry face being far too cute for anyone to ever be threatened. His thoughts wandered, mostly circulating around you, before his eyes fell heavy, and his breathing got deeper, his mind lulling into a soft, sleepy trance.

An: lol

#zuko x reader #zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #fluff #zuko fluff #zuko x you #atla zuko #zuko fanfic #zuko fic #zuko x f!reader #avatar zuko #zuko atla #zuko x y/n #zuko hc #zuko h/c #zuko headcanon #headcanon #headcanons #zuko angst #zuko atla angst #modern zuko #modern atla #xreader #x reader #atla x reader

[player1064]

How about something fluffy fluff where they have been in a situationship/fwb for a few years, both thinking the other one doesn't want anything serious, but irl both are insanely in love with each other and pining, until finally one of them cracks and confesses.

Your drabbles bring me so much joy, thank you. You should also continue the wife-gary saga.

I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING DUMB AND SILLY AND FLUFFY BUT OHHHH NO. MY BRAIN HAD OTHER IDEAS. Obviously the other day I was like 'in the wife-gary saga they were fwb who spent lockdown together' and so I wanted to write that but then it hit me just like. just what an Ordeal the lockdowns were and how insane it made everyone. So this came out less 'silly fluff' and a lot more 'earnest pining'. oops?

Also I've mentioned this on the carraville discord but did u guys know Gary and Jamie were literally together when the lockdowns first got announced like they literally watched the broadcast together then like. had to immediately pack up and go home. I feel INSANE every time I think about it. tbh.

---

“Feels a bit like the end of the world,” Jamie says one day, lounging on the sofa while the news plays softly in the background.

Gary looks over at him from where he’s sat a respectable distance away at the other end of the couch. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “it does a bit.”

Jamie had been thinking about saying – well, it doesn’t really matter, because he’s been thinking about saying it for three weeks now and still hasn’t got up the nerve. Instead, he smirks and says “y’know, in all the disaster movies I’ve seen the rich bastards always fuck off somewhere safe, don’t they?” He looks around Gary’s huge living room. “Maybe that pension of yours has finally come in handy, eh?”

“I dunno,” Gary says. “All just feels a bit wrong, to be fair.” He gets up with a sigh, brushes some imaginary lint off his trousers. “You got any more filming to do today, or d’you fancy helping me in kitchen?”

For a brief moment, Jamie considers making up some interview he has to go off and record so that he can avoid another dreaded ‘Gary (who can’t cook) tries to teach Jamie how to cook’ session, but then he remembers that this lockdown thing is already stretching out for weeks and weeks ahead of him, and if he’s going to be stuck here all that time he should probably try pulling his weight a bit more.

“Fine, but I’m not peeling any more fuckin’ carrots.”

*

When Jamie’s loading the dishwasher after dinner, Gary rests a hand on his hip and kisses him, soft and sweet.

“Come to bed?” he murmurs against Jamie’s lips, and Jamie wonders if he even remembers how to deny him anything.

*

Except he does remember how, and he hates himself for it. Because when Gary, already half-asleep, loosely wraps a hand around his wrist and says “stay,” he gently extracts himself from the tangle of sheets and goes back to the spare room.

*

They somehow manage to carry on like this, days spent on zoom calls from separate studies, evenings spent trying to muddle their way through whatever recipes they find online. Nights, more often than not, spent in separate bedrooms.

They’re actually having less sex, now that they’re living under the same roof. Before, every time they’d seen each other had been an excuse to find somewhere private to sneak off together, every accidental touch in studios or in stadiums had felt charged.

Now, they argue over what shows to watch on Netflix. They work out together most mornings in Gary’s little home gym. They stay up far later than two middle aged men have any right to, heckling each other through games of fifa and mario kart.

Sometimes, Jamie looks over at Gary and he’s got that same look in his eye that he normally only gets when he’s about to kiss Jamie. Sometimes Jamie smiles at the expression, starts to lean in, is left confused when Gary blushes and moves away.

Sometimes Gary does kiss him. Sometimes Gary does more than kiss him. It’s easy, familiar. Comforting. It’s a dance they’ve been practicing for four years now.

It’s still just as hard to return to his own bed afterwards as it had been four years ago.

*

Three months becomes six months becomes a year, and Jamie dreads going back to his own house, to the thick layer of dust that’s waiting for him there, to that quiet emptiness that he’s only just learnt to live without.

He almost catches himself thinking that he hates Liverpool.

But life has to go back to normal, that’s what everyone’s saying, so he packs up his things while Gary watches from the doorway of the spare room.

“Stay,” he says.

It’s the first time he’s asked without the excuse of the sleepy post-orgasm haze to hide behind. It’s the first time Jamie has to actually give an answer.

He shrugs, keeps his focus on the suitcase lying open in front of him. “No more lockdowns,” he says, all forced casualness. “’s not like either of us have much use for a housemate.”

“Jamie,” Gary says, taking a step into the room. “Stay.”

Jamie turns to look at him.

Gary won’t meet his eyes, is staring unblinking at a spot on the wall instead, lips pursed tightly together. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

Jamie really, really doesn’t want to go home.

“Maybe I can swing another week or two,” he says carefully, reaching out to brush the back of Gary’s hand.

He feels shaky fingers lace with his own, sees Gary’s eyes crinkle in a not-quite-smile. “D’you think y’could stretch it to a month?”

“Hows about a year?”

Gary breathes a heavy sigh of relief, his whole face breaking into a wide grin. “Hows about ten?”

“Fuck, Gary,” Jamie breathes, pulls him in by the front of his shirt. He kisses him firmly, then rests a hand on his cheek and says “rest of our lives, that’s me final offer.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Gary says, and kisses him again.

*

Later, they’re lying in Gary’s bed and Jamie’s not even thinking about the spare room.

Gary’s got the duvet pulled up to cover his bare chest, glasses perched on his nose while he scrolls on his phone.

“You got any plans a month from Thursday?” he asks idly.

“Not had any plans in a year, lad, might take a while for the calendar to fill back up. Why?”

“Fancy gettin’ married?”

Gary’s still just looking at his phone, his tone still light, but there’s a faint blush rising in his cheeks.

“Hmm, I’m still waitin’ on a better offer,” Jamie teases, “but I reckon I can pencil you in.”

#AGAIN SORRY FOR THE LACK OF FLUFF AND SILLINESS. this DID get away from me a bit #god theyre insane. yes theyd been fwb for 4 years yes they were living together a full year no they still cant say they love each other <3 #also yeah in case it was unclear this is now Officially part of the wife-gary saga (and thank u for giving it that name I love that...) #carraville #drabbles #wife gary saga

[callsignspark]

Elle! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

I will happily accept anything from MM! (But I’m particularly soft over the Panera chapter, if you’ve got anything you want to share from that one!)

alexa!!! 🫶💖🦐 so something I’m particularly proud of with mar[r]y me is that I’ve been dropping hints and alluding to Mary and Bradley’s happy ending in every chapter and all the one shots. (I mean we all know it’s gonna be a happy ending since the story description literally tells the audience this is the story of how they fall in love!) but all the clues are there leading up to the chapter when they say those three words, you just don’t realize it yet! and I will happily talk about the panera chapter in more detail using some lines that foreshadow their happily ever after!

They run into traffic on the highway, an accident taking four lanes down to one, and when they arrive at the restaurant, Bradley realizes Mary has fallen asleep in his front seat. - This is a super significant moment for Mary! Due to some bad past experiences she gets very nervous when other people drive, she drives 99% of the time and there are very few exceptions where she feels comfy with others behind the wheel. So for her to be able to fall asleep while he’s driving is huge! (important in ch. 11)

She had done all of that, and more, so that Danielle and Reuben could fully focus on the arrival of their newest family member without worry. - A classic MM/BB moment where she’s just being her wonderful, thoughtful self and he’s in awe of how she’s able to do it all! (important in ch. 11)

“She fell asleep on the way here, and I felt bad enough waking her up to ask what she wanted, so she’s sleeping in the car with the doors locked.” // There’s a moment of silence so long that Bradley checks to make sure he didn’t get disconnected. “Payback?” - If we were to have video of the other end of the call, we would see Reuben and Danielle Fitch looking into an invisible camera like on The Office. Those two really are Mary’s bestest friends and the siblings she always wanted her brothers to be. They continue to love and protect their girl like they have since day one!! (important in ch. 12)

“I’ll just fill it up for her after we get home.” He mutters, trying to decide whether to get two or three lemon drop cookies. - Throughout Bradley continuously refers to Mary’s rental house as “home” despite not living there and not being anything more than her friend. I’ve been dropping that usage as a subtle reference to how he feels about her, before he himself realizes the depths of his feelings. (She’s home to him. He loves her.) (important in ch. 11)

Her key is in her front pocket, and he can’t even think about trying to get it out. - Something he has no problem doing in chapter 11 👀

Her car is an overload for his senses; the interior smells like her perfume, subtle and flowery with a hint of orange. - We’ve seen how many times her perfume has thrown him for a loop. But there’s one time coming up that’s a real doozy! (important in ch. 10)

He wants to ask her, to take her out properly - dinner and a movie or something equally cliché for a first date. But every time he suggests coffee or lunch with just the two of them, hinting at it being more than friends, she turns it into a group affair. - We found out in the grocery store one shot why she keeps doing that! But no fear, Reuben and Dani keep encouraging him!

He’s trying to keep his imagination from running wild, but it’s hard when he can hear Mary humming along to his favorite Jim Croce song while she washes her hair. - I won’t say which song (I don’t think I have so far either?) but this song is a big (h u g e) moment in chapter 10!!!

She leans into the kiss he presses on her forehead, eyes closed for a moment after he pulls away. “Night, Bradley.” // “G’night, honey.” - the last lines of chapter 11 but said in a very different situation.

okay that’s it for this one!!! (I can’t do more or we’ll end up analyzing the entire chapter lol) but once MM is done I’ll have to make a post that connects all of the little hints and easter egg type things that I’ve buried in the story!!!

#thanks for this alexa!!!! #asks answered #sometimesanalice #mm fic #alexa tag 💖

[criminalskies]

Hi Rome! I wanted to reach out to you because I feel this is a safe space and I know it’s stupid because we don’t even really know each other but I feel like I can trust you and that I have your support. Anyway, I wanted to kind of ask for advice on my sexuality if that’s ok. I’ve been kind of questioning it the last few years but am not really sure what I identify with. I always used to think I was straight but now it feels like I don’t belong in that “category”

I don’t like s3x. I don’t find it to feel good or be fun or anything like that. I don’t mind reading smutty stuff sometimes but when it gets too descriptive, I’m out.

I mostly find men attractive, but I sometimes find women attractive as well. But I don’t really feel sexually drawn to either of them. Like the most I feel is fantasizing about holding their hand or cuddling or maybe making out but certainly nothing past that. I mean I’ve had dreams (not like fantasizing but literal night time dreams) about being with both a man or a woman, but idk if that means anything. And I’ve found that some of the people I find attractive aren’t your typical “hot” people and it thinks it’s because I might care more about who they are than what they look like? Idk

I sometimes fantasize about having a relationship, but in reality I don’t want one. I think I more just like the idea of it and how they are in books and movies, but not the real life situation. Especially when I think about being with someone all the time. I prefer to be on my own. Which I guess is why I wonder if this even really matters, but I feel like I need to know even if it’s not applied?

Anyway, sorry, I’m rambling!! I just wanted someone to discuss this with I guess and I don’t really want to go to my family yet, which is why I wanted to reach out to you (and I guess the tumblr community if you decide to answer this and it’s on your feed lol) and if you do choose to share any advice, thank you, I love you, I love your writing, and the nasty anon people who share their evil words can kindly piss off! <3

Hi baby! Let me start this off by saying there’s no reason for you to feel silly at all, I say that this account is a safe space and I really mean it. I’m glad you feel comfortable and supported by me because that’s a goal of mine to have people always feel that way on my page.

Now, I’m assuming you’re here bc you’ve seen me talk about times in my life when I’ve thought I was asexual or even aromantic? and that stays true. admittedly when you sent me this ask I went full dad mode googling the aro/ace spectrum lingo and terms to make sure I’m giving you the best information. I also researched this stuff a bunch myself because as you say it’s all a bit confusing when you feel you fall between the ‘categories’.

But that’s an important point for me to make here: asexuality and aromanticism are fluid and exist on a spectrum. All our life experiences and ups and downs and mindsets and the people in our lives can change or skew these things, and that’s okay! I don’t expect to identify the exact same way forever. Honestly, when I first learned what aro and ace were, I was a bit lost because doesn’t everybody feel like this sometimes?

So with my newfound research let me try to talk you through what you’re saying?

You don’t like sex, not fun, not desirable, that’s completely valid. I’m finding more and more myself that I maybe fall somewhere under that umbrella, but an interesting term I found online helped me here:

All the different niches of asexuality get a little confusing, but I resonate a lot with this one. I find myself with very little desire to actually partake in sex, but enjoying the fantasies or hypotheticals to be really interesting. I enjoy reading smut and even writing it once in a blue moon, but yeah, in terms of the real thing, I’m becoming increasingly unsure it’s my cup of tea.

I notice you said sometimes smut can be your cup of tea, if it’s nondescript or just implied etc, but usually isn’t. I completely understand what you mean. I think that’s a completely valid stance. You aren’t completely repulsed by sex but you’re also not aroused by it, I totally hear you!

Now you say you find yourself attracted to men and to women, but not sexually. I feel that. I fantasise about having someone to hold hands with and play with their hair, cuddle up under blankets to watch movies, all that fun jazz all the time! so it sounds to me like you’re existing somewhere on the ace spectrum, but you’re not aromantic. That is, you do feel romantic attraction, you do want a partner in some things outside of platonic life. Again! Man!!! I hear you! I want the quiet days and the running errands and having someone who knows me like the back of their hand, but I’m not sure I want that person sexually or at least not all the time.

And the people you’re attracted to, it’s less because of that primary attraction (this term comes up a lot in ace literature, it’s that feeling non-ace people get when they see someone and immediately a fire is lit in their belly, they want that person) and more because you get to know and love them as a person. You are preaching to the damn choir here.

Secondary Attraction is a term for that feeling that slowly grows over time, particularly romantic feelings for someone. It’s mostly coined by Demisexual people, which I feel like maybe you’re fitting into, only not in the sexual way, but in the romantic way. Like you might be asexual but demiromantic where all of your attraction comes from getting to know the person underneath. Sorry if it sounds like I’m making up words at this point but i think it helps to have some language to help describe how you’re feeling. But again! There’s no necessity to define these things. Just saying you’re asexual but you feel romantic attraction can cut it, or saying nothing at all is fine, too. You don’t have to fit into any little boxes sweetheart. Although it can be comforting to know that others fit into the same one, that you’re not alone. But let me tell you, you aren’t 💕💗 I’m right here and I feel you!

Now the part where you say you don’t want a forever relationship, I can understand too. Now it sounds a little like you might exist somewhere within aromantic because you don’t have that desire to have a romantic relationship. That is so okay too.

there are some ace-aro people who are referred to as greysexual or greyromantic (I know this sounds so made up but it helped me feel seen) who can feel some degree of sexual attraction or some degree of romantic attraction sometimes, but for the most part they fit under the general umbrella. Remember, time changes all. We aren’t going to be the same people we are today forever, so we can’t expect one identity to withstand the force of time alone, things change and that’s okay.

Please please remember that being ace or aro does not mean your life will be any less fulfilling than people who have partners. I know that in media, romantic love can be shown as being something a level above platonic love, but really truly your life can be just as marvellous without it my dear.

Please do not apologise for rambling, Rome loves to ramble. My inbox is always open for rambling sweetheart! I have definitely doubled the length of your ramble at this point anyways so I’ll cut to the chase. I threw a lot of labels o it there for you to try them on and see what feels right, but truly, labels aren’t a necessary part of being a human being. You are no less interesting or less important or less understood if you can’t make yourself fit into any one of these categories my love. You’re human, humans are complex and every single one is an anomaly of something. That’s what makes us so damn interesting, okay?

I see you and I understand you. Thank you for coming to me to talk about this, I hope any single thing I’ve said helps. There is no need at all to run to people with a definition of it, it’s perfectly okay to just tell them what you’ve told me, which is how you feel.

Now I love you too my sweet summer child and I’m so glad you enjoy my writing and my blog! And I agree, that anon was a whole mess but for the most part it seems to be over now. I’m so glad I didn’t disable all anon asks now though because then I never would have gotten this from you. I hope I have been of any help at all! The bottom line is you are loved and you are you. There’s no need to change that. ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💜🩷

also I have about eleven more screenshots from this site if you want them but it’s just all the terms I tried to describe.

#Rome’s advice corner #I am so fucking honoured this person came to me with this #I feel like a proud papa #Rome’s got mail! #anon mail!

[chrissysluvr]

Missing You (3)

chrissy cunningham x fem!reader

your feelings for your ex-bestfriend come back as

you get partnered for a science project. will you

become close again, or maybe even more?

there was a hard slam next to you while you were gathering your things from your locker. it was jason, chrissy’s boyfriend.

“i don’t know what kind of shit you’re trying to pull with chrissy but i’m not stupid.”

you looked at him in confusion and clenched onto your science textbook. for the past few weeks, chrissy’s been coming over almost every day to work on the project. sometimes to just hang out with you. it was nice, but it only made your feelings stronger.

you had these moments of catching each other glancing, more dance parties to the smiths, watching movies like you used to. you loved the feeling it gave you. it made you and chrissy get closer than before. you didn’t know it, but chrissy loved it too. but she questioned why she never felt that way with jason.

you hoped that wasn’t what jason was talking about.

but it was.

“what do you mean? we’re just working on a project together.”

“i know you’re a damn dyke!”

a few students around their lockers turned their faces but quickly went back to their own conversations. your heart was racing and you gave jason a mean look.

“you better shut your fucking mouth carver.”

“well you better stop doing whatever it is with chrissy. she’s been blowing me off about coming over to hang with the team. it’s bad for my rep.”

“does she know that? she probably does if she’s always willing to hang out with me instead of you. it’s not my fault you’re such an asshole.”

jason grabbed your shoulder aggressively, digging his fingers into it. you could feel his nails through your shirt and you hissed in pain.

“y/n, jason? what’s going on?”

you both turned to see chrissy with her textbooks and a concerned look on her face. you were about to say something, but jason quickly interrupted.

“nothing, babe, we were just having a friendly conversation.”

you could see the cheerleader cringe at the pet name and him kissing her deeply. it made you wonder if she truly did love jason or if she was just doing it for the attention. either way, it made you heart hurt just thinking about it. you cleared your throat and spoke.

“well, chrissy, we should get to class.”

chrissy broke off from jason and quickly kissed him on the cheek and continued to walk with you towards the classroom. she was surprisingly very close to you, like she considered you as her protector. you smiled and held the door open for her just as the bell rang.

you grabbed eddie’s shirt from behind in an attempt to scare him. it worked. he whipped around and let out a big sigh. he hated when you would scare him like that.

“fuck, y/n, you gotta stop doing that! but, how was class with chrissy~”

“i want you to be brutally honest with me ed. do you think i have a chance?”

eddie’s eyes slightly widened as he raised his eyebrows. he looked down for a few seconds trying to come up with a response. he didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but he knew all you wanted right now was honesty.

“look. chrissy is the head cheerleader of hawkins, dating the head basketball player. they’re literally the ‘it’ couple. they’re the relationship that everyone looks at from afar and secretly wants. even if jason’s intentions aren’t good, he’s gonna do anything he can to stay with your lady.”

your expression changed and you looked down as you began to feel upset. you can’t be mad at him for saying all that, it was true. jason would do anything to stay with chrissy.

“hey, i’m not done.”

eddie rested his hand on your shoulder and gently shook you as a sign to look back up at him.

“i’ve seen the way chrissy looks at you and the way you look at chrissy. she loves you. even if it is just in a friend way, she loves you with her all. ever since you two started hanging out with each other she seems happier from what i’m seeing. so, yeah, i think you do have a chance. just a slightly small one.”

you looked at your close friend for a few seconds before pulling him into a hug. it took him by surprise since you weren’t physically affectionate with him at all. you then pushed him off and smiled.

“thanks, ed. cmon let’s go get lunch.”

just then someone grabbed you from the collar of your shirt. the next thing you know your head and back hit the locker and you fall hard on the ground. before you can do anything you’re grabbed by your hair and get punched in the face a few times before eddie pulls him off. it was jason.

because of the impact to your head you started to feel dizzy, like you were going to black out. you could hear eddie yelling at jason and more sounds of slams against the lockers. you got up, trying to get your focus back and grabbed jason from behind, choking him then slamming him onto the ground.

you got on top of him and the rings you had on your fingers scraped his face as you continuously punched him.

“agh- you fucking dyke get the fuck off me!”

he easily pushed you off and attempted to punch your eye. he missed and punched your nose, which hurt just as bad. eddie then grabbed him again and pinned him against the lockers.

“get the fuck out of here jason! you’re lucky no one was in this damn hallway.”

“oh shut up eddie. this isn’t done, chrissy is blowing me off again to hang out with you. i hope you know she doesn’t actually like you, y/n. she’s just acting nice again to get a good grade on that project.”

you knew he was lying. he had to be, that’s just so jason is. but the words really hurt. there’s always a possibility that what he said is true. it made you question your relationship with chrissy.

“shut up. you’re just fucking saying that because you’re jealous that she likes me more than you! that’s all you are, jason. you’re jealous.”

jason clenched his fists and was gonna attempt to hit you again, but eddie had a good grip on him and shoved him the opposite direction.

“get out of here.”

jason breathed out aggressively and quickly walked out of the hallway. eddie ran over to you and grabbed the bandana he kept in his pocket, wiping your nose with it.

“what did i tell you? he’ll do anything to stay with her.”

you winced as he tried his best to clean your wounds. you took the bandana for yourself and stood up slowly.

“go get lunch, ed. i’ll clean this up in the bathroom.”

“alright. don’t take too long.”

“i hope this stupid makeup works.”

you were using whatever makeup your mother had to try to hide the bruise near your eye. you had several other small open wounds on your face and marks on the back of your shoulder from jason this morning. you didn’t want chrissy to figure out it was him and tried coming up with several lies to tell her if she asked about him.

you heard the front door open and knew it was her. you quickly put the makeup away and dimmed the light coming from your lamp. it wasn’t enough, but you didn’t figure that out until chrissy’s face drastically changed when walking into your room.

she dropped her things and quickly sat in front of you gently grabbing your face.

“y/n, are you okay? what happened?”

“nothing i just went through the forest on my way home and bumped into a tree. eddie and i weren’t paying attention.”

chrissy looked at you with worry and stayed quiet for a few seconds. your faces were extremely close, close enough to where you felt her warm breath on your lips. it made you nervous.

“you’re lying. i know when people lie. what really happened?”

you didn’t want to tell her but there was no way of getting out of this. you tried maintaining eye contact with her but you didn’t want her to see you in such a vulnerable state, so you just continued looking down.

“i got into a fight with jason, that’s all. it was my fault.“

the warmth of chrissy’s hands on your face went away as she slowly took them off. she knew that jason was jealous, but she didn’t think he would actually act on it.

“y/n, i’m so sorry. it’s not your fault i- i can talk to him and he’ll stop-“

“chrissy, no.”

you gently grabbed her hands and held them in your own. she was trying to put the blame on herself and she didn’t deserve that. you used your other hand to grab her chin and make her look up at you.

“you don’t have to do any of that. it’s my fault, it really is. jason sees me as a threat and from what i can tell, it’s always gonna be that way as long as you’re with him.”

there was worry and fear in the other’s eyes as you looked into them. she then formed a slight smile and leaned into your face. you both were VERY close. dangerously close.

now, chrissy didn’t know what she was doing. what she did know was the past few weeks of spending time with you, getting close again, it made her extremely happy. she felt happier with you than with jason. she knew what everyone would think. her family, her friends, jason, but she didn’t care in this moment.

“is it such a bad thing? being a threat?”

she spoke in a low tone. it sent shivers down your spine in addition with her warm breath still hitting your lips. you let go of her hands and placed them on the floor to hold yourself up. chrissy got closer in response. you struggled to speak because of this.

“..you tell me.”

“does this give you an answer?”

and the warm breath that was hitting your lips disappeared. her lips locked onto yours and all the thoughts that were running through your mind left. all you could think about was this moment. about chrissy. the head cheerleader, queen of hawkins high, kissed you. she was still kissing you.

you deepened the kiss which made you wince since there were a few small cuts on your bottom lip, but you didn’t care. you were kissing each other for about a minute before chrissy broke off to catch her breath. you looked at each other in shock.

it wasn’t until now that chrissy realized what she did. she kissed you, she kissed a girl. did she like you? was she just desperate for the attention jason didn’t give to her? she didn’t know. it felt right in the moment but a wave of guilt and fear washed over her.

“chrissy..”

“i’m sorry i- i don’t know what i was thinking-“

before you could respond, chrissy got up and grabbed her things. she whispered another sorry before leaving and you tried to get up to go after her. the quick action sent a sharp pain to your ribs and you fell back onto the floor.

you were confused. rightfully so, but you thought about it. chrissy had a reputation, and if anyone knew about what just happened a few seconds ago, it would be ruined. you felt tears forming in your eyes but they didn’t come out. you couldn’t tell if you were upset or angry, maybe both. you sighed and sat there for almost an hour before crashing into your bed to sleep.

this was gonna be awkward on monday.

#chrissy cunningham x fem!reader #chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy cunningham #fem!reader #chrissy cunningham oneshot #eddie munson #jason carver #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #chrissysluvr #missingyou #lgbt

[photoniccyclone]

New AO3 Comment Bots

The next edition of Ao3 comment bots have arrived, and unfortunately these are trying to be less obvious then the previous ones. While the previous bots simply accused you of using A.I. which made the bots very easy to detect. These new bots attempt to act like a normal commenter by showering your fic with compliments. I’ve been getting hit with them for the past few days but they’ve become a bit more sophisticated now, generating comments longer than one sentence and seemingly trying to blend in far more. This has caused some moments of confusion where I wasn’t sure whether or not to delete a comment because I wasn’t sure whether or not it was a real reader who left it. 

These bots have a weakness though. Since it’s not an actual person, they can’t say anything about your story specifically, only making very general statements like the following. 

It comment above contains a compliment about dialogue but it can’t pinpoint a specific scene or moment because this is a bot. These bots also feel way too... “professional”? Using words like “added a delightful layer” and some more things in their language that I can’t exactly describe that makes the whole thing feel like it was written by some stereotypical movie critic rather than an actual commenter. People don’t talk like this. 

Sometimes it’s downright comical like the following 

The story being commented on is a legal document. It’s literally made to look like an in-universe legal document. That’s it. Yeah, I’m sure a legal document made you feel all that. 

Still, even with that, I’ve found myself scratching my head sometimes thinking “should I delete it?” because they are becoming more and more indistinguishable from real comments. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, and sometimes the comments are able to resonate with something in the story by complete chance. Like, for example, some comments congratulate you on your fluff writing. If that bot comment is by complete chance left on a fluff fic, then it will be much harder to distinguish from an actual comment. 

I really wanted to talk about this because I haven’t seen that much chatter outside of discord about it and I feel it’s something everyone needs to be aware of because it is just as, if not, more dangerous then the A.I. comment bot because of these bots actually trying to hide and blend in.

For all readers out there, when you comment on a fic, I feel it is now more important than ever to be specific. Comment bots will never be able to read the story, so pick out different scenes and moments that you liked and comment on those. This will not only make the authors day, but it will also help you distinguish yourself from bots. I’m worried that one day, I’m going to accidentally delete a legitimate comment thinking it’s a bot and that will suck if that happens.  

So please, spread awareness of this, like we were able to do with the A.I. bots. And hopefully if possible, let Ao3 know about this and try and get them to do something. I don’t know what they can do but this is the second major comment bot attack the community has had since I’ve been here, and it’s the third major bot if we count the kudos bot. Other sites have methods to protect against bots, and while they don’t always work, they can definitely reduce the number of occurrences. I really hope Ao3 can install some kind of captcha system for Kudos and comments, because right now, the only true way to protect yourself from comment bots is to make your fic so that only registered users can comment. But I really don’t want to do this because I’ve received so many amazing legitimate comments from guests and I would really hate loosing those.  

#ao3 #writing #fanfiction #bot #comment bot #new bot #please spread awareness of this

[b0r3dtod3ath]

“You won’t cry this time”

Tw: I think none; mention of alcohol (wine),

Word count: ~1,2k,

Navigation

“I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, y/n. I couldn't help it.” “oh no no no no no no” You muttered “You must hear me now and give me an answer because I cannot go like this any longer. What is this relationship? Because I don’t know if you love me. Maybe I’m not good enough and I'm not this great man and-” The man standing in front of you started hyperventilating “oh no no no. You're too good for me and I’m so grateful for you and I’m so proud of you. You just, you just need to give me time please.” “ Do you love me or not? Tell me!” he called out. His hair was a mess as opposed to how it looked when he had walked into your apartment. His now red face was covered in tears. It broke your heart but you really didn’t know how to answer. You would love to fall into his arms and tell him you loved him. Perhaps, there was something holding you back. This something was fear, fear of other people, media ruining your relationship. “Timmy I-I don’t think I know. Just please give me some time”.

You’ve met Timothee almost 6 months from that day. You worked on a movie together. As a director it was a great pleasure working with such an amazing actor. You loved it not only because of his talent but also you just enjoyed his company. He would always do everything to make your day better. He was truly your little sunshine that brightened your mood. Over time you two got really close to each other. During the break between shooting and doing press for the movie you remained really close. Texting each other, going out whenever you could. It was the last weekend before the premiere of the movie. All the interviews and smiling at the camera were about to start. You couldn’t say you hated it but most certainly you didn't love it.  

But there he was, a man who had just confessed his feelings. He didn’t want to listen to you - emotions took over his mind. All he could think about was to hide himself and never see you or any of your mutual friends again. You thought this evening would be just a nice time spent with him and some wine but it ended with you both crying while he’s trying to leave. “Please listen to me, Timmy please, I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.” a hint of desperation in your voice “No, no, I have to go now” he was struggling to put on his jacket. He felt like he needed to exit your place as fast as he could. “Please just be careful while going home. Please don’t do anything stupid.”. He left you and all you could do was to worry about him. 

You two haven’t talked ever since. It made your heart ache. All you could think about was what will you tell him once everything regarding this movie will be over. Unfortunately, you both had to spend a lot of time together. It hurt you to see him with way less energy than he had before. He was constantly putting on a fake smile and telling everyone that he is fine. His closest friends knew about what happened between you two and reassured you that he is alright and safe. Timothee on the other hand, thought you were doing great and that this incident didn’t really affect you. Maybe it looked like it but it most certainly wasn't the truth. You tried to talk with him many times but he did his best to avoid you. It must have looked ridiculous to other people when he was quite literally running away from you.

Everyone from the cast, you as a scriptwriter and a director, and a few other people sat at a long table. Many journalists and reporters sat in front of you. All eyes on people that had created this movie. Everything was going smoothly. Everyone was getting equal attention and there was nothing to complain about. “I have a question to y/n” a quite short brunette stood up “So we have seen that your relationship with Timothee has developed a lot. There are a lot of photos of you two hanging out. You always seem to have fun together and everybody can feel the chemistry between you two.” you sighed and rubbed your eyes “So the question is: what is going on between you two? Are you two dating or like friends with benefits?” how could she ask something like this. You could feel everybody's eyes on you. You could see in the corner of your eye that Timothee was about to answer this question for you but you decided to be quicker. “I don't see in which way this question refers to the making of this movie or its plot or any of my other projects. I find it quite inappropriate because we are here to talk about the amazing work of so many talented people and not my personal life. I feel like there are more interesting questions to ask right now. Even tho I find this question really disrespectful the answer is no, there's nothing romantic between me and Timothee and before you ask there's nothing romantic between me and any of the cast. I hope this answer satisfies you and your boss. Do you have any other questions that don’t involve mine or any of the cast member’s personal life?” everyone was quiet because you weren’t really a person to talk back like that. “No-no thank you.” She quickly sat down and kept her mouth shut. You turned your head to Timmy and saw him smile at you. To this moment he has been avoiding you since that one evening. Not only did he look at you but also he smiled. You haven't seen that smile in a long time. Obviously it made you smile as well. “Alright, does anyone have any other questions?” asked one of the actresses to quickly fill the awkward silence and move on. 

Later that night you decided to call Timothee. Based on his behavior that day you were positive he will answer. So you sat at the edge of your bed, a bit tired, your phone on the speaker, “Timmy” on the display. It took a few moments but eventually he picked up. Before he could say anything you started “Hi, I would like to tell you about what I feel and figure out what is this relationship cause I want you to know that I think I actually love you.” the man wa too stunned to speak. “Are you there?” “Oh oh yea yea, Where would you like to meet? And when? Maybe a coffee or dinner?” “No, come to my hotel room if you can.” “Of course I can.”. After about fifteen minutes you heard a knock on your door. You opened it. There he was, tired but happy. “I bought wine, I hope I won't leave crying this time.” “I promise you, you won’t.”.

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #x reader #writers on tumblr #fanfic #fan fic writing #timothée chalamet imagine

[space-writes]

OC interview tag

tagged this time by @ahordeofwasps, thank you! (also you can check out my previous interviews with Sorrow, Vren, and Lucian)

This time it’s Aliyne’s turn. She doesn’t like talking about herself any more than Vren does, but that’s tough luck because it’s my brain she’s living in rent free. I’m going to answer this as she is at the start of the books - let’s go!

Are you named after anyone?

Not that I know of. Then again, I never really got much of a chance to ask.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Are you going to make me be honest about this? Ugh, fine — a few days ago, when I had to choose, again, between a roof and a meal. Chose the meal, obviously, and I’ve got some work now, which provides a roof, so that’s neat for the next few weeks anyway.

3. Do you have kids?

Gods no.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

No, that would be such a childish thing to do, people never take you seriously if you use sarcasm.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

What they’re carrying. Weapons, coin pouch, clothing, stuff like that. How guarded they about it all. How aware they are of their belongings. Most people, turns out, don’t pay nearly enough attention.

Look, I’m trying to notice things like how nice their hair is or whatever instead, but it’s just. Instinct. Alright?

6. What's your eye color?

Dark brown.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I don’t necessarily agree with fun and happy endings, but they’re nice. Least the fictional characters get to have a good time.

8. Any special talents?

…picking pockets. Also climbing things, and getting away from people.

9. Where were you born?

Maziz Province, in Jamarda. That’s out in eastern Mohaade, near the Border Mountains of the Wilds.

10. What are your hobbies?

Um. Knife throwing, I guess? Does climbing count as a hobby? I like getting up someplace high, so I can see everything.

11. Have you any pets?

Nah, I haven’t really been in a place to look after anything other than myself. I used to feed the stray cats in Zhirasea sometimes, but Vren kept telling me not to bother because a) they can hunt for themselves if they’re so hungry, and b) I’m cat enough, apparently. But he’s an ass, so one day I’m going to get a cat just to spite him.

Not that he even remembers I’m alive.

…holy shit I’m going to name it after him. That would piss him off so bad. Hah! Get cat-named, idiot. Serves you right.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

No official sports, but we played at chase and catch in Jamarda, and in Zhirasea. Running over the roofs, climbing on people’s balconies, stuff like that. Nearly broke my leg once—got my foot stuck in a stupid railing when I jumped.

You’ve never seen Vren move so fast. Mother hen. I would’ve been fine.

13. How tall are you?

Five foot four, and look, it makes me harder to hit, okay? It makes people underestimate you when you’re the same height as the average fourteen year old, and it makes it easier to get in places you aren’t supposed to be.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Ughhh, leaving. You’d think growing up in a literal crime family means you don’t have to do boring shit like sit in a room and learn how numbers work, but no. I mean, it’s useful, and I guess I should be glad they taught me, because not everyone gets to learn but also. Counter-argument. School is boring as fuck.

15. Dream job?

Wealthy businesswoman. The kind who has a fleet of caravans—or a ship, even—and I just get to sit in my huge house and sign papers and threaten people who try to cross me, and the money just rolls on in.

No-pressure tagging @hallwriteblr @annachronisms @ivorygarcia and @saltwaterbells (and anyone else who wants to do it, feel free to tag me!)

#valloroth blogging #writeblr #tag games #oc interview #c: aliyne #love my grumpy girl so much #she's a snarky little shit #which. to be expected given that Vren was her closest family for years #also great timing for me to do this having just finished aliyne's intro post ^_^