#And now tea from starbucks

[fractallogic]

It would be so much easier to leave my house in the mornings if I didn’t constantly have to go “okay did I pack a lunch did I adequately feed myself breakfast am I accidentally going to give myself a migraine because I didn’t eat enough” because I’m stalled between the lunch thing and the breakfast thing and when this happened yesterday I fell asleep and didn’t get anything done because I never left for campus!

It would also of course be much easier if there were lunch places close by, but. uh. Not so much.

[aria]

u know ur getting old when u cant drink the sweet ass drinks or the old sweets u liked when you were 15. 💀💀💀💀

[luvxiem]

i had a dream abt luca last night where we were dating but it took place in like. high school (????) i didn't even go there it was this random ass school but anyways we sat next to each other in like math and the teacher was out for my neck like she was always calling me out in front of everyone and i was like wtf !!! and then one day she like sends me to the counselor or sumn idk but i went to cry in like the uh. peer counseling room and then reported her for targeting me and she got fired methinks. and afterward luca performed in the talent show 🥳

[itoshiexx]

when you call them "husband"

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband".

pairings: itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, isagi yoichi x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "mrs." and "wifey") (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, kissing, the boys are simps, shidou is a warning itself

notes: hi guys! another one of these scenarios since you guys seemed to like the other one so much <3 thank you for all your love and support! also it's my first time writing for shidou so i hope this isn't absolute garbage.

ITOSHI SAE

one of your and sae’s favorite couple activities was driving around the city. you loved the feeling of madrid’s summer breeze kissing your face and messing up your hair, and sae… well, he would never admit that, but sae loved anything that made you happy, even if it meant driving with no clear destination in mind until his feet hurt. so it was no wonder you convinced him to do just that on that afternoon.

after half an hour of wandering around town on a porsche, you decided that some starbucks would do both of you well. your little pleading eyes quickly convinced sae to stop by one, letting you order since the intercom was on your side.

“welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you today?” the man’s voice came out of the intercom, the spanish accent still making it a bit difficult for sae to fully comprehend, despite living in madrid for years now. 

“hi! i’d like a caramel frappuccino and a chocolate muffin, please.”

“anything else?”

you turned to him, asking in a whisper, “what do you want, baby?”

“just an iced matcha tea latte.” he shrugged. you smiled, and sae had to fight the urge to smile too. it was maddening, really — how much of an effect you had on him with something as simple as a turn of lips.

he watched as you turned back to the intercom, “and my husband wants an iced matcha tea latte. that would be all, thank you.”

distracted, sae started to take his foot off the brake to go to the payment booth, but suddenly his body froze. he furrowed his eyebrows, confusion etched on his teal eyes.

wait. 

fucking wait. 

sae didn’t register what the guy on the intercom said next, much less what you answered. he didn’t even notice the line of cars behind him and the need to move forward. all that mattered was that one word that fell from your mouth seconds prior.

“what did you call me?” he asked, silently afraid that it was all a trick from his mind fed on his deepest wishes. 

it was only then you seemed to realize what you said. “o-oh, i… i’m sorry, it just— it just came out…” you squeaked, bashful. fuck, you were so pretty like that, with your cheeks rosy while averting his gaze. 

sae smirked, pinching your chin so that you would look at him. he kissed you with a sweetness that wasn’t usually present in his bitter mouth, and you melted at his gentleness. 

“don’t apologize,” he said as he broke the kiss. “i liked that, mrs. itoshi.”

it seemed like it was finally time for that velvet box on the bottom of his drawer.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

peace. peace was all you wished for — at least a little bit. five minutes on the phone to schedule an appointment was not asking for much, was it?

apparently, for shidou, it was.

you were well aware your boyfriend was selfish, and that was an universal rule when it came to your attention. considering he spent a lot of time away for games overseas, you couldn’t blame him for wanting some time alone, since you wanted it too. 

however, you really needed to schedule your doctor’s appointment, and your whiny boyfriend was making this task extremely difficult. every time you started talking to the lady on the other side of the phone, ryusei would butt in with very unnecessary comments that made your eyes roll. you apologized profusely to the woman about a hundred times, and she assured you it was okay. she even said it was sweet. 

if you weren’t so annoyed, you would have thought it was sweet, too. ryusei was never one to shy away from expressing his love, even if it meant embarrassing you and himself in the process (although he was completely shameless, so it made no difference).

“will anyone pick you up after your exam, ma’m?”

you could faintly hear what the woman was saying, since shidou was babbling nonsense in your ear as if you weren’t on a phone call. it made you sigh, and you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“yes, my husband will pick me up.”

and then, silence. 

it took you a minute to realize that the outside noise disappeared and ryusei had completely stopped talking. you blinked a couple times, confused, and turned your head to look at your boyfriend sitting on the couch. to your surprise, he was blushing and gaping like a fish, in what seemed to be utter disbelief.

you braced yourself for what was about to come. 

“HUSBAND?!”

ah, there it is. his scream pierced through the living room, and you were certain even the other side of the country heard it. 

“thank you for everything, ma’m. i should be going now,” you told the receptionist. she only giggled and wished you a good day. 

the second you put your phone down, ryusei’s arms were around your middle, lifting you up and twirling you around like some cliche romance movie. your prior annoyance melted away in a second, and you could only giggle like a schoolgirl in love. 

“awww, ya wanna be my wifey?” he cooed, putting you down without letting you go. his nose touched yours and you blushed with the intensity of his stare. 

though you wouldn’t back down. 

“of course i do, ryu.” you smiled sweetly. your boyfriend stared at you, shocked and bashful for the second time in the span of five minutes, and then groaned when broken from his stupor. 

what a little devil, he thought. 

and then he kissed you, intense and dominating like only ryusei knew how to be, prodding his tongue in your mouth when you gasped and savoring every corner of your mouth. it was one of those kisses that swept you off your feet and left you dizzy, and he could tell from the hazy look in your eyes when he finally backed away.

“fuck, i love you so much. you ‘gon be my wifey, baby, i promise ya.”

ISAGI YOICHI

you were usually the one to accompany yoichi to parties — mostly galas thrown by sponsors who wanted to secure a deal with some sports hotshot —, so, for him, it was a breath of fresh air to be your plus one on the holiday party of the company you worked for. 

since the company in question was a corporation, it was no wonder the decoration was flawless, with lots of gold and red to represent the christmas that would soon arrive. the soundtrack was mainly composed of classical music, and he smiled watching you enjoying a vivaldi song. it reminded him of the early days of your relationship, where you teached him about your favorite classic musicians such as beethoven, mozart, ludovico einaudi and chopin.

your arms were linked as you wandered around the hall, and, non surprisingly, everyone seemed to want to talk to you. of course they would; you were the sweetest, kindest and smartest soul to walk on this earth. isagi couldn’t be more proud of all the recognition you were getting, because you deserved more than anyone he knew. 

“are you having fun, baby?” you suddenly asked. the striker finally noticed he had been staring at you for a while as you drank a glass of champagne. he blushed, but nodded. 

“how could i not? i’m with you.”

a giggle left your lips along with a fond roll of your eyes, and yoichi couldn’t help but think that, if he could listen to a single sound forever, he would choose your laugh in a heartbeat. 

“you’re so silly, yoichi,” you playfully chastised him, but stepped forward to give a kiss to his cheek. he smiled, circling your waist with one arm and pulling so that your bodies were glued.

“what can i say, you make me silly, sweetheart.”

“isn’t that what love is supposed to do?” a third voice suddenly spoke, slightly startling the both of you and breaking you from your little bubble. 

you put down your glass on a waiter’s tray, smiling at the man that arrived. “mr. tanaka! what a pleasure it is to see you here.”

“of course! i wouldn’t miss such a party!” he exclaimed, laughing a little loud for the etiquette of that kind of gala, but no one seemed to mind. 

“and who is this?” he asked, pointing to isagi. 

“this is my husband, isagi yoichi. he came today to support me.”

with such simple words, yoichi’s mind went silent. 

he could faintly discern the man saying something about being a soccer enthusiast and a bastard munchen’s fan — mostly from reading his lips, since his ears were buzzing —, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. isagi’s heart was beating so pathetically fast that if he weren’t an athlete, he was pretty sure he would faint right there. 

husband. you called him your husband. 

did that mean you wanted to marry him? he’s been wanting to propose for a while. you have been dating for five years, after all, and yoichi was sure there was no one else in this world he’d rather spend the rest of his life with. did you only say that because you already lived together? or did you actually want a wedding ceremony with all your friends and family, signing the paper that would bound you for good? until death do us part, he remembered. though yoichi would love you even after dying—

“dear?” you called him, worry in your tone. it’s only then he realized he got lost in his thoughts, and both you and mr. tanaka were staring at him.

“oh, sorry. it’s really nice to meet you, sir.” he shook the man’s hand, engaging in conversation.

while you watched them, you smiled coyly, hoping isagi took the hint.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[ellecdc]

part II - Pretty Woman

slow burn poly!wolfstar Pretty Woman (1990) au: established wolfstar, escort!reader, side jegulily, eventual dorlene, political heist-type situation, depictions and descriptions of sex-work

I // II

CW: financial insecurity, Sirius money-is-no-object Black, sugar babe vibes, brief mention of Black family [3.1k words]

link to series masterlist

The words on the page before you began to blur and melt as you watched the way the shadows of the leaves danced across them; the canopy of trees above your fire-escape-turned-balcony swaying in the gentle breeze and providing you with broken bits of shade. 

You almost laughed that out of the two documents Sirius had sent you home with, the legal NDA was rather easy to read through and already signed, sitting safely on your bedside table for your next meeting. 

You were having a harder time with the second document; one that you were supposed to replicate for him.

‘About Me’ it read. And it was - about Sirius, that is. Everything that a long-term girlfriend soon-to-be fiance hopefully one day wife should know.

His favourite colour is black, but there was someone else's font beside it that read “this doesn’t count, Sirius”, to which what you could only assume was Sirius’ scrawl wrote “bloody hell, fine, blue then.” His birthday is November 3rd. He’s a dog person, but Remus likes cats so he thinks he’ll likely have to cave one day and get him a cat. That note made you smile. He wanted to study art history (someone wrote the word ‘nerd’ beside that) but his parents didn’t approve, so he studied architectural design instead. He listed the Godfather as his favourite movie, but when someone wrote ‘liar’ he wrote ‘FINE. It's the 1999 made for TV version of Annie with Kathy Bates’. He’s afraid of spiders, he drinks both his coffee and tea sickly sweet - his favourite drink being a salted caramel latte, he played rugby with James growing up but quit when he decided he didn’t actually like being beaten about for sport. He left out the ‘when I was already being beaten about at home’, but you read it for what it was anyway. He can play piano but hates it, he can play the guitar less well but loves it. He’s littered in tattoos, most can be hidden under dress shirts and such, but there’s one that trails just a little too high up on his neck and a few on his hands. His favourite meal is Remus’ mum’s shepherd's pie, but the Ritz room service always made a really good baked mac and cheese.

You snorted as you threw your head back against the railing behind you - your bum growing numb from sitting on the wrought-iron bars of the fire escape - at the thought of Sirius Black sitting in a premium suite in one of the world’s poshest hotels and ordering macaroni and cheese to his room from a michelin star restaurant. 

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? You wondered wryly as you stood and forced the jammed window to your bedroom back open and crawled through. 

Sirius had offered to pick you up, but you had insisted you would meet him at the mall. Well, actually, Sirius had first offered to transfer you some money to buy a cocktail dress for dinner at his Uncle Alphard’s tomorrow night, but when you’d gone so quiet on the phone that Sirius actually pulled it away from his face to ensure the two of you were still connected, he’d offered to take you instead. 

The dinner at Alphard’s would be a good segway into the Black family nonsense; Alphard’s house would be neutral territory, his parents and other aunts and uncles would be there, but it wouldn’t be their domain. And there would also be Andromeda, her husband Ted, and of course Uncle Alphard to act as buffers.

But that’s not what had Sirius feeling so uncharacteristically nervous right now. He felt silly, sitting here at the Starbucks with sweaty hands as he considered buying a second latte. 

Yeah, he thought wryly, that’s exactly what you need - more caffeine, as if you aren’t already shaky enough. 

Sirius hadn’t felt this anxious since he’d asked Remus out on an actual date back in school. He supposed in many ways, this was a first date of sorts. A first date with the woman who was going to help him bring down his family and all the hate they stood for, with the woman who was going to be accompanying him to events with some of the worst people he knew, the woman who he was going to propose to, who he’d have to bloody marry at some point; blimey what did he get himself into? 

Thankfully you chose that moment to show up, saving Sirius from any further spiralling as he stood so quickly that he almost knocked the small bistro table clean over. 

“Hullo! Fuckin’ hell. Hi!” He stuttered awkwardly as he caught the table and righted his nearly finished coffee.

“Hi.” You murmured softly with a matching smile.

“Hi.” Sirius said again, wiping his hands on his trousers and smiling back at you. 

“Hi.” You repeated; smile growing into a cheekier smirk as you watched him botch this. 

“Great, awesome.” Sirius said with a smile. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” You laughed.

“Oh, and now you’re lying to me.”

You shook your head and looked down at your feet. Sirius wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he hired an escort, but he found he was surprised by how plain a lot of your wardrobe seemed to be. Granted he had only met you twice, but from those two times it had become clear to him that when you weren’t working, you preferred to be nondescript. Classic tees, shirts, and blouses, and denim or, in today’s case, corduroys; you looked vintage and casual, put together in a way without looking like you tried too hard. Though, once again, you were only as nondescript as any pretty woman could be, and he was sure that anyone even remotely attracted to women would absolutely spare you a second glance - corduroys or otherwise. 

But he couldn’t help but admit - at least to himself -  that he was a little bit excited at the prospect of getting to dress you up. 

“Are you- do you want a drink?” Sirius asked as he gestured towards the Starbucks behind him, nearly taking out an errant shopper with his hand causing him to have to call out a hasty apology. 

“Oh, uhm, no, no. I’m good, thank you though.” You declined quickly as you hiked your purse further up on your shoulder, though you were eyeing the store with intrigue.

Ah, Sirius thought to himself, allergic to spending money - I know a thing or two about your type. 

“Listen, gorgeous, we’re going to be spending a lot of money today, so you’d be better to start with something small to ease yourself into it.” He quipped.

He’d been going for light and breezy - even shooting you a cheeky wink - but you seemed to blanche at that. 

“I’m… I don’t have much on me, Sirius…” You started, and Sirius fought the urge to wince at his faux pas.

“My money, doll; we’re going to be spending a lot of my money.” 

“I-”

“It’s number six.”

You turned away from the coffee shop to look at him in bemusement. “What?”

“Number six, how you take your tea and coffee; your favourite drink.” He explained. “Mine’s a salted caramel latte. What’s yours?” 

You took a deep breath as you searched his eyes for a few moments before turning back towards the drink menu. “Are you getting something?”

“I was considering getting a second.” Sirius allowed as he nodded towards his forgotten cup.

“I’ll get it, then.” You offered, and made your way into the shop before Sirius could even respond, returning a few moments later with a salted caramel latte for Sirius and some kind of sweet looking cold brew for yourself. 

“Thank you.” He offered as he accepted the drink from your grasp; your name scrawled prettily on the side of the cup. 

“Don’t mention it.” You whispered back as you took a sip of your own.

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“What about this one?” Sirius asked for what had to have been the thirteenth time in this store alone as he held up a garment for you to consider. 

You barely spared the dress a half a glance before you were reaching to the sleeve - not coincidentally where the price tag was.

“Would you stop checking the price?” He hissed as he gently swatted your hand away. “Do you like this dress?” 

You made a helpless sound in the back of your throat as you looked between him and the dress again. “I don’t know, Sirius, I- it’s not something I’d ever buy for myself.”

Sirius sighed as he returned the dress to the rack and gave you a Look™. “I do not mean any offence, doll, but I think that’s sort of the point.” He offered softly.

You groaned miserably and cradled your face in your hands. “I’m sorry - I’m being terribly difficult.” 

“You’re not being terribly difficult.” Sirius appeased, waiting for you to peek at him through your fingers. “Only mildly.”

You groaned again but allowed your hands to fall away from your face to land on your hips as you considered the rack in front of you. Your bottom lip dimpled as if you were chewing on the inside of your lip as you turned to a rack behind you that the two of you (read: Sirius) had been looking through moments ago and sifted through it again.  

“That would be a nice colour on you.” He offered as you paused on a dress. You kept your face pointed towards the dress but looked up at him through your eyelashes before pulling the dress out and holding it up against him.

“Now, I don’t know what you think you know about my family, but generally, I save my dress wearing for when I’m in the privacy of my own home or at a very specific bar.”

Sirius watched as your nose crinkled before you were dropping the garment and lowering your chin to your chest in an attempt to hide your snickering; Sirius momentarily wished you wouldn’t. 

“I didn’t mean for you,” you chided through a giggle as you held the dress back up against him; he didn’t argue this time, “I was checking to see if the colour looks good on you as well.”

Sirius found his cheeks flaming hot as the question ‘and does it?’ settled on the tip of his tongue. But, like the fucking prat he is, all he managed to spit out was “of course it does, I look good in everything.” 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘git’  under your breath before nodding once. “I think I’ll get this one, then.”

“Great job.” He said as he swiped the dress from you and folded it over his arm. “Now pick three more and then we can head to the next store.”

“Thre- next store? Sirius, I-”

“I told you we were spending a lot of money today, Y/N, I meant it.” He said simply as he encouraged you forward by the small of your back. You sounded as though you were going to say something but acquiesced when he patted your hip twice before pulling his hand away from you. 

“You don’t wear a lot of colour, I’ve noticed.” Sirius offered, swinging the bags he was carrying casually in his hands as the two of you slowly made your way through the mall after purchasing shoes ‘to go with the dresses, doll’ and even some sodding bags ‘think of it as an investment, gorgeous; you’re an employee, and working for me comes with a uniform. I’m providing you with a uniform’. 

You looked at him sideways as you continued walking, trying to ignore the feeling of everyone doing double takes to see a girl looking so plain with designer bags in her hands and a certified adonis by her side. If he hadn’t told you his favourite colour was black, you would have guessed as much just from the sheer amount of it he wore. But whereas you wore a fair amount of black in an attempt to disappear - to blend in - he seemed to do it to make his own statement; it stood out in stark contrast against his fair skin, and depending on what he was wearing, complimented his many (visible) tattoos nicely. It also left his eyes - a grey blue - appearing that much more brilliantly bright and striking.

All this to say, he wasn’t one to talk.

“No…” You allowed. “Neither do you, though.”

“Touche.” He offered you with a wink - or, what you were sure was a wink - behind his sunglasses as the window-pane roof let in an unusual amount of sunlight for this time of year in the UK. “Why don’t you, though?”

You sighed as you stepped onto the escalator going down and redistributed your bags in your hands instead of answering right away. “I get looked at more than I’d like to already.” You admitted quietly. “I… I get enough attention, I don’t need to garner any more.”

You weren’t looking at Sirius but you could feel his gaze on you before he nodded his head in your periphery. “I get that, I think. Growing up in a political family came with a lot of attention. Then being the runaway, then playing the poster child again.”

You hummed an acknowledgement. “You seem to lean into it, though?” You hadn’t meant it to be offensive, but when Sirius’ mouth opened in a disbelieving laugh, your stomach dropped. “Not- no, I’m- that’s not what I-”

“Relax, babe. I get it.” He waved you off as the two of you stepped off the escalator. “It’s true; I always sort of figured, they’re looking at me anyways, you know? Might as well give them something to talk about.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, only breaking it to apologise when one of you brushed against the other with one of the many bags adorning your hands.

“Where’d you park?” Sirius asked as the two of you stepped out into the daylight. Fuck, you hadn’t thought this through.

You were expecting to shop for maybe one dress for tomorrow’s dinner, and you were planning to shove the garment into your purse for the train ride back home. There was simply no way you could manage public transport with this many bags, and the chances of you being mugged on your way increased significantly for every designer bag you had. 

You wondered if the clothes would even be safe in your flat at all, knowing the only locks that you trusted were the chain bolted to the front door that you installed yourself, and the piece of wood you jammed in your window at the fire escape so no one could open it from the outside. 

“Y/N?”

“No. Uhm, sorry.” You started, looking towards Sirius but not necessarily at him. “Actually, I’m- well, do you think I could keep them at your place? I…I don’t- I don’t necessarily want my neighbours knowing I have this kind of stuff in my flat.”

Sirius’ eyes softened and you felt a little guilty at the half truth, but soldiered on. “I’d just hate to come home from work one day to find it all missing, you know?” You tried to joke. 

You swore Sirius’ mouth pinched slightly before he schooled his expression and redistributed the bags he was currently holding into one hand and held out his free one to take yours. 

“Oh! I could help-”

“That’s alright, doll, I’ve got it.” He said as he relinquished your bags from you. “Tomorrow, then? I assume you’ll be getting ready at my place? Do you want a ride?”

“No! No, that’s alright, I’ll meet you there if you just want to send me your address.” 

The two of you said goodbye and you watched Sirius walk through the car park until he disappeared behind a row of vehicles, and you stepped back into the mall to wait for the next train that didn’t come for another 45 minutes. 

Sirius let out a breath as he closed the door to his and Remus’ townhouse behind him; the sounds of the London streets melting away to the odd honk or occasional car door closing as he began searching their home.

He needn’t search long, however, finding Remus exactly where he knew he would be.

”Did’ya have a good day?” Remus asked without looking up from the potatoes he was peeling, though he did turn his face slightly to reciprocate the kiss Sirius pressed to his cheek. 

“Yeah, not bad.” Sirius agreed in an exhale as he disposed of the many shopping bags onto the kitchen island.

Remus opened his mouth as he turned - no doubt about to scold Sirius for messing up his clean kitchen - when his face pinched in confusion.

”I thought you were going shopping for Y/N?” 

“We did.”

”Sirius!”

”Remus.” Sirius shot back as he made himself comfortable on one of the high stools.

”You’re going to scare her away.” Remus muttered as he washed and dried his hands before coming over to peek inside of the bags, pulling the documents you had returned to Sirius out of one of them. 

“She was much more tolerable than you were when I first took you shopping.” 

Remus shot him an unimpressed glare though he didn’t bother gracing him with a response as he leaned back against the counter and flipped through the pages in his hands. “Why didn’t she take any of this with her?” He asked as he motioned to the bags now littering his kitchen island.

Sirius felt his own mouth pinch in displeasure as he recounted your reasoning. “She said she was worried her neighbours would see - didn’t want anyone to know she had anything of value in her flat.”

Remus made a sympathetic hum as Sirius pondered what it was exactly about that sentiment that left such a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Sounds like my flat back on 31st.” 

Sirius groaned at the memory of Remus’ flat he had back in university. Sirius had spent the first eight months of his and Remus’ relationship begging him to move in with him and James; he’d already spent most nights there in Sirius’ bed anyways! But Remus was proud and argued with Sirius when he said as much.

”I hated when you lived there.” He grumbled, and Sirius pretended not to notice Remus’ eyebrow lift as he considered him. 

“Yeah?” He asked as he turned back towards his potatoes with a muted grin. “So did I.” 

[sanguineterrain]

Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

[sleepymccoy]

I have some general anxiety about going to supermarkets aimed at specific cultures because the intended clientele is not lil white me and the staff often don't speak english and I feel inappropriate. But not once has this been true, and I've always enjoyed my visit. Anyway, that's a preface so you can appreciate how brave I am

My colleague recently made me lahpet which is a Burmese salad including pickled tea leaves, dried beans mix, and tomatoes. I loved it and wanted more. I live in a densely Chinese area and thought one of the many supermarkets might have something Burmese, so I brought the empty jar to every store.

Many don't speak english, but that's fine. I had a jar! All interactions basically went like this;

None of them knew Burmese so couldn't even tell me if they had something similar

I gave up and bought it online. Also had a hard time with that cos they don't deliver to apartments (got the vibe that it's just the shop owners son doing deliveries and he couldn't be fucked going upstairs. Valid). But I persevered and got three jars! And the dried beans mix I needed. Way too many dried beans, I totally misjudged the size of the bag being sold

I used one to show my friends this salad. They didn't go as insane over it as I did. I gave another jar to my dad who did go appropriately insane. He said he liked it, then five min later interrupted to say he really liked it, then after dinner spent time with me going through the ingredients and trying to figure out if he can pickle tea leaves himself. Booyah.

Regardless, this left me with one jar which I swiftly finished. So I'm on the hunt again and the online store stresses me out now cos they don't like apartments

I found a Burmese supermarket a few suburbs away and a twenty min walk from the station. Fucking worth it, it's added two hours to my commute home but I want these jars so much. I enjoyed the stroll. It rained a bit, so I saw a couple rainbows

In the store I was, again, immediately stressed. I went down an aisle and back again and found nothing. I found other pickled things! But not my tea leaves! I did not want this trip to be in vain, it was long and I had a shit day at work. I was really only doing it today cos the days a write off as a bad day so I may as well run an annoying errand

Anyway I pulled up the website and showed the lady at the counter a photo of the jar and she pointed me to them immediately. I returned like fifteen seconds later with four jars and she was already on a phone call with someone. I love workers rights. You're awesome, lady.

So I say four and hold four fingers up and pass her one jar. She scans and sets the price right. She then interrupts whoever's talking on the phone to ask me, "How you know this?"

So I quickly explained that my colleague made me the salad and I loved it. She pointed back at the aisle and said, "the beans, you need beans." So I was like "I have so many beans, I bought too many, I just need the pickled leaves." And she was already waving her hand at me in disinterest so I stopped talking and paid lol.

It was a long haul home. I passed and remember to take a photo of my favourite art installation, the tower of coffee cups in a pole.

There's no starbucks in my suburb so one of these at least has taken a long trip to get here. So did I today, my feet are sore

Anyway, I have four jars of miraculous pickled tea leaves. If you can figure out how to buy these ingredients I recommend it to serve alongside very fatty meals like lasagne or sausage cos it cuts through nicely. I also take a serving to work every day because the tea leaves are caffeinated so I'm skipping the second coffee

I love lahpet

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Super Hearing

Homelander x Reader

Word Count: 927

Summary: You forget Homelander has super hearing, while trying to explain something to your friend in a crowded coffee shop.

Warnings: None.

Masterlist

Sandra’s voice drones on and on about the way climate change is ruining everything. You sip on your tea with a disgruntled look. She promised shopping and gossip, not channel five news. Your attention is caught when the bell beside you chimes. Letting everyone know a new customer walked in.

Your eyes widen in shock, this is the last place you’d expect to see him. The Homelander, at Starbucks. It helped that he had his son with him, his eyes ,almost as wide as yours, look at the extensive menu. This must be his first time. You look at his childlike wonder and remember being 14 and ordering cake pops with Sandra.

You look across from you and your jaw drops. “Sandy! Look who it is!” You whisper. She rolls her eyes, not fond of him. “God, please let the earth swallow me whole.” She says, dramatically resting her head on the table.

“You know I can’t stand him, or any supe for that matter.” She says rolling her eyes at your excitement. “Well. You know how I feel, I respect him, the good he does far out weighs the bad. He’s earned being a cocky ass.”

Speaking of ass, you take the time to admire his, he was wearing his suit, but no cape, must be too dramatic for errands with a kid. Someone blocked your view. A stereotype of a woman stands behind him, tapping his shoulder with her bottle tanned hand and long fingernails. “Can I get a picture?” You swear her voice sounded normal but it shot hot streaks through your veins, filling you with an annoyance.

“Sure thing.” He says, plastering a fake smile on, that looked like it hurt. He leans over for the picture, keeping a foot of space between them, even though it was obvious she wanted him to wrap his arm around her for the picture. You scoff, “He’s here being a dad to Ryan, why even bother him with pictures?”.

You see as the barista throws herself at Homelander as he orders for Ryan. She’s leaned halfway over the counter, her top buttons recently undone. “Look how tense he is right now, he probably never catches a break from women.” You say, never taking your eyes off him.

“I bet he has a new one of them in his bed every night.” Sandra says, downing the rest of her black coffee. You shrug your shoulders, it was probably true, you’d be one of those girls too, if you had the chance.

Sipping your tea once more you watch as they stand at the end of the counter, not immune to restaurant wait times. “I just know those girls can’t take care of him like he needs.” You feel bad for him, “They want a big strong supe to wreck them, I bet all he wants is to be cared for, genuinely.”.

Sandra laughs at you and it breaks your attention from the tall man. “As if it would be you.” She laughs again when you shoot her a confused look. “You’re so not his type, skinny blondes seem more in his range.” She says.

Your friends words hurt, but you knew they were true. You could sit in the corner fantasizing about him all day, it wouldn’t change the fact the he would never approach a girl like you. “What’s so wrong with dreaming?” You say, giving your friend a fake laugh to let her know you wanna change conversation topics.

Sandra pulls her phone out when ‘beez in the trap’ starts filling the small Starbucks dining area. “Hello?” She says, and you take the chance to look back over to the supe. Except he’s not standing there anymore, you see Ryan waiting by the front door and before you know it, blue fills your vision. Homelander is at your table, a paper business card in his hand.

You’re dumbfounded for a minute, wondering what it could possibly be. You look up to his face and meet his eyes. They glimmer as if he didn’t expect you to dare make eye contact with him.

“Can I help you, Sir.” You say, not wanting to say the wrong thing and embarrass yourself. Sandra groans from across the table, while still having the phone pressed to her ear, you don’t owe him anything and yet here you were serving yourself up.

“I hope so, call me. That is, if you like cocky asses.” He drops the card on the table and turns towards your friend to give her a grimace, letting her know how dissatisfied he was with her. He walks away without another word. Leading Ryan out of the trendy coffee shop.

Your face turns beet red, he heard you. If he heard you calling him names, then he heard how much you want him, a glimmer of pride sparks in your chest, she was so wrong, maybe you are just his type.

Sandra slides her phone into her purse, silently fuming. “Are you serious right now? We’re supposed to be having a girls day, not picking up guys.” She says, annoyed with everything you do. You wonder if she’s even your real friend.

“We were supposed to go shopping, not sit in Starbucks and talk about ice caps melting.” You shoot back, not letting her bully you any more.

Sandra gives you a look of surprise, like she didn’t expect you to talk back to her. “I think I’m gonna go.” You say, leaving her open mouthed at the table. You had to go celebrate yourself, alone.

[lexithwrites]

— I don’t want to hold you back from where you might belong. (Part two)

decided to carry this on since everyone was so so sweet about the original oneshot<3 ALSO part one is hereeee

Having James stay with them had very quickly turned into James living with them, and Regulus was starting to lose his mind.

The Black Brothers didn’t have a spare bedroom when they moved in. The little room beside Sirius’ had been made into an office/laundry room/bits-and-pieces-that-had-no-other-home room. And it was too small for a double bed so they never bothered with it, until James started to stay. One day had turned into three, which turned into a week, and that eventually led them to picking up a single bed from IKEA in Remus’ car that Regulus thought looked a bit like a child’s bed.

“You’re always so negative,” Sirius grunted as he and James held the huge, flat pack box above their heads and ever so slowly made their way up the stairs. “He’s moving in, so shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything bad about him moving in. I just said that his feet are going to dangle off the edge of that ages four and up bed.” Regulus muttered from the landing, leaning against the bannister as he sipped his matcha. That was the only promise capable of making him come along that morning, that Sirius would get him Starbucks. In reality, Regulus really liked being around James.

It was actually very pathetic and Regulus knew that. He didn’t have to actually talk to James to enjoy himself, he just followed him around like a puppy and occasionally grunted when he was asked his opinion. Sirius had taken over most of the day; he insisted that he had an eye for interior design. Both Remus and Regulus decided not to bring up the current state of his bedroom, or the mountain of dirty clothes piling up that had mostly certainly developed enough bacteria to come alive by now.

Regulus watched the boys huff and puff up the stairs before dragging the box into the now empty bedroom, and then looked over at Remus who trudged up behind them with his cane.

“Would you like tea?” Regulus offered.

“No,” Remus smiled softly at him, “thank you.”

“What is it with you and tea?” James panted, pulling up his shirt to wipe his sweaty face. He looked sinful, and Regulus ignored the urge inside his brain to lick his chest.

“It’s polite, and Remus is a guest.”

“Not everyone wants tea.”

“You did.” Regulus felt his neck heat up when James looked at him, both of them thinking about the night he showed up at their door. Remus raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, just wandered into the bedroom to help Sirius as he grumbled about IKEA packaging their items stupidly. “Is that bed going to fit?”

“Yes, Regulus.” Sirius mumbled, tearing open the box and making Remus wince because: “sweetheart, we can’t return it if you ruin the box.”

“Are you sure? It looks too wide.”

“I’m very sure, we measured it.”

“I don’t think it’ll fit.”

“For fuck sake, it’s gonna fit!”

It didn’t fit.

It was slightly too wide for the door to properly shut, meaning James’ bedroom would always be on show through the crack in the door. Sirius was at his wits end by late afternoon and stormed outside for a ‘well earned’ cigarette with Remus, who was petting his hair and saying how handsome and strong he looked whilst building furniture. It seemed to calm him down enough not to kick over a second garden chair, at least.

Inside, Regulus was curled up on the sofa with Luffy—a tabby that he picked up off the street the day after they moved in. He followed him home from the corner shop and Regulus didn’t think twice about letting him inside, even though Sirius nearly went mental and made his brother bathe him at least three times. Sirius and Luffy decided they were mortal enemies that day—and reading a book when James decided to bother him.

He’d showered after they finished his room, and had been singing Mariah Carey very loudly; Regulus had been intently listening even if James couldn’t carry a tune. It was endearing. But now, he was stood in the kitchen doorway with grey joggers on, no shirt, and a towel wrapped around his shoulders. He looked like a tanned god and Regulus absolutely loathed him for it. He was still glistening from the shower and water droplets were trickling down his back, and Regulus wondered how strong he would feel if he were to run his hands over his shoulder blades and down towards his—

“What are you reading?” Regulus jumped and Luffy meowed himself awake, upset that he had been jostled.

“It’s…called the pumpkin spice cafe.” Regulus replied, suddenly realising that he was eye level with James’ stomach. Christ.

“Isn’t that a smutty book?” James grinned. “Pretty sure Mary has it. How graphic are the sex scenes?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t got that far.” He lied.

“Liar, bet you have.” James was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Why do you care?”

“I can’t imagine you reading about sex. Or…having sex in general.”

Hurtful. “Good. You’d be a pervert if you did.” He said, turning a page he hadn’t even read yet whilst wishing James would think about him having sex. “My brother would punch you.”

“Sirius would never.”

“He might.”

“There’s nothing I could do to make Sirius mad at me, Reg. Nothing.”

Being with me would.

“That sounds like you’re challenging yourself.” Luffy started to purr in Regulus’ lap and rolled over onto his back to show off his tummy to James, tilting his head and swishing his tail. Traitor. Cooing, James reached down and stroked him…which meant he was leaning so close to Regulus now that he could smell his shampoo.

Apple. Raspberry. God, why does he have to smell this good?

Regulus felt his mouth go dry as he stared at James almost putting his face into his lap just to pet Luffy, and he swallowed. He wanted to pet James, he realised. Touch his hair and tangle his fingers in it, maybe tug it so he’d look at him again with those gorgeous brown eyes, watch the way his lips parted in a gasp, hearing his breath hitch, his hand going to his waist—

“Oh my god, where is he putting his fingers!?” James cackled, pointing to the book. Regulus looked down and read the lines he was focused on and went red. He’d accidentally turned to a smutty chapter.

This day truly couldn’t get any worse.

[ladythornofrivia]

🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒

Michael Gavey x Reader (PART TWO)

summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.

warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.

a/n: i got sick from the trip. oops. enjoy the new chapter! oh, and the one where the reader is being shoved out of the elevator, that one is a true story, by the way. I was being shoved out of the elevator by this guy I met at the cruise—all because I didn’t give him the attention. not only that i got stood up twice--one on the hangout, the other on my 27th birthday. and he thinks it's weird that i like hotd and said ewan mitchell looks weird. good thing i don't have to see him again.

Somehow, to think you met up with Michael Gavey again in the library, now that Oliver Quick is gone. By gone, Oliver might have gotten bored of Michael Gavey, you assumed.

There was a party last night, and you didn’t attend. Not that you’re too good or above for the party; you just hated the noise at the moment. You wanted a different kind of ambience to set the mood. Needless to say, you earned a lot of cash on that night.

With moonlighting as a camgirl, things have gotten easier. If you haven’t left your parents, things would’ve been worse if they found out.

Despite the cruel years, it became a simple memory.

Sitting beside you, Michael offered another crunchie--delicious as always. It's a good pair with hot cup of joe to pair with the sweet chocolate. Although you learned that Michael hated coffee, he'd rather prefer tea, a tea that tasted bland to you. You needed something strong--Starbucks would've been great, but a coffee from Oxford? You can't pass up to try the flavor of coffee from another country you've set yourself in.

Missing the opportunity would be as stupid--all opportunities have been unlocked, all thanks to you being as a famous camgirl. My, oh my, you are moonlighting as a naughty girl in bed time--no parents constantly sneaking in being nosy as hell. You did lie to them--half-lie--by claiming that you have been acting nuts at night--doing all the prayers and bible study sessions, which is a total fucking lie.

You never liked bible studies or prayers before Sundays. It's a hassling lifestyle to live in--to live so virtuously while shaming everyone's lifestyle who aren't religious.

People with an aspect of a pretentious goody-two-shoes was the last thing you need. Oliver Quick is a goody two-shoes; the boy obsessed with math has caught your eye, plain and simple. A bit eccentric, but sexually frustrated, as you guessed before the moment your eyes met his baby blues.

Three weeks later, the magical aspect of Oxford hasn't begun.

"Crunchie," a voice said, tingling your skin and poked at one side of your waist with a slight tickle.

Beside you, Michael Gavey showed up with a slight grin on his face, oddly satisfied this morning.

Who the hell smiles in the morning?

"Not an early riser, I see," he commented.

His pleasant tone prickled in between your thighs.

"Oh yeah, fine and dandy--needed a cup of coffee," you said, grouchy. "I was studying all night--got the assignment wrong."

"What kind of assignment?"

"It's, um, it's an English essay," you lied, pen twirled between your agitated fingers. "This professor is really getting on my nerves when it comes to the essay. Acting all superior and shit--telling me I keep getting my annotations wrong and that I misinterpreted the meaning of the symbolism and theme in the story. I hate pretentious professors like that. No matter where I go, some things never change. They always have favoritism, it's fucking weird."

Michael chuckled. "Perhaps you have been partying?"

"Partying? Please, I needed peace and quiet for some alone time to concentrate on my studies. If I want to have a good future, I had to have at least a C or B. I fucked up bad."

Seems like the lie went smoothly as always.

"So, have you been at the party last night? Sneaking in since you didn't get your invite?" you asked.

Michael placed his hand over his cheek, nearly covering his lips. "I stayed in my dorm."

"Ah, doing math homework, I assume? Anything math related? Science into the mix, maybe."

Michael stayed quiet.

"I'm not really into math. I thought it's confusing," you commented.

Michael chortled. "Perhaps I could tutor you this afternoon. Usually I don't like teaching the numbing idiots of the subject matter. One guy was staring at the girl’s tits while doing times tables. Times tables! Need them to fuck off and do something valuable for once!”

You stopped what you're doing and glanced at him. And it clicked an idea into your head.

“Am I also the numbing idiot?”

He shook his head. “You might be, if you are. These knuckleheads at the library, all they’ve done useless flirting, not studying.”

“That’s what library is for, Michael. To study. No harm in a little flirting.”

Come to think of it, Michael at the library with you sounds nice.

He smiled a little, though not in a friendly way.

"Sure," you said, eating the half crunchie. "Why not? Teach me, so I could get better grades. Life is already hard enough as it is. So got any crunchy to start the session? It will take a while.”

~~~

For the past an hour or two, Michael tutored you. Although as excruciating painful to hear numbers and equations with letters, you couldn’t help but to stare at the cute nerd. Ah, a cutely frustrated nerd, maybe. His curlish dirty blond hair, thick framed glasses and his smile when he talks about math, these thoughts never spare you freedom. You are trapped, trapped by thirst that needed to be quenched.

With your cherry-red boots and skirt and a rosy pink lace top, you opt to show your cleavage by tucking your mini top downward, crossing your legs, coiled your apetite. With your hair flip, or hair twirls, biting your red lips, you were hoping Michael would give a comment or two, but tutoring was his priority, but since you wanted his attention, asking questions about math and equations would definitely keep him on his seat. His eyes on you.

His cute nerdy glasses. His cheeky and toothy smile.

Masturbating seems to be an option, but what happens if that option is no longer helpful? You wanted an alternative approach.

Maybe masturbating in public would be nice, but you’re smarter than that.

But each time you attempt to flirt, he seemed clueless. But he did at one point had a crush on a news anchor. And so your mind mentally made an account.

Dear Diary,

Michael Gavey didn’t notice me. How the hell am I supposed to get his oblivious attention on me? I hope I don’t die as a lonely virgin. I’m a bad bitch; I just want to fuck him so badly, watching his glasses fog up and lips soak at my aching pussy, whimpering underneath me and my dominance.

Then it clicked you.

However, you knew right away of this information when he liked watching news—the news anchor. Although she has a kid, the green envy seared and punctured your belly.

Maturity is what men and guys want.

Though it didn’t stop you from chasing Michael’s attention. Days gone by when you try a different style. That is until you met this guy, a popular guy, who’s name you not care—who complimented and dubbed you as “the hottest girl in campus.”

An idea conjured; if you practice with a guy, maybe it would be easier to make the first move on Michael. Thus, you went along with his flirting, but at the end of the night, you felt sure you were ready, until he took you out in the hall, and make out with you. But you didn’t care, you didn’t want to kiss the dude, you wanted to kiss Michael.

You felt nothing in his erotic moves.

When he tried to get into your underwear, you shoved his hands away. Thus, the little adventure with the guy, and ended up shoving you out of the elevator.

It was a pathetic night.

Nonetheless, your camgirl starts within an hour or two—took a shower and dressed up as a sexy office worker, with fake smart glasses with your tight office shirt loosened two buttons for your cleavage to show, with pencil skirt and stockings and red bottom heels.

On the cam session, did a little roleplay, and with feral thirst, legs spread apart, ripping your stockings and reveal your wet pussy. At the thought of Michael, his face, his voice, two fingers inserted in your cunt, as your hips formed a gyration, moaning aloud.

Michael…

You nearly screamed his name, but your climax came quicker.

All the comments flooded in, and more cash has stocked into your bank account.

You wondered if chasing Michael was even worth it. Hopefully one of these days, he’ll finally notice you.

~~~

Michael shoved in a few cash onto your new stream. Dressing up as a news anchor or an office lady, he found himself turned on, how your skin was gleaming with arousal, office glasses crooked from humping and gyrating, grinding your hips in fast pace like a feral beast that you hid beneath all the girlish and cherry red clothing, a clothing that outlined your perfect hips and perfect waist.

A horny devil.

He pretended his hand is your hand, your mouth, your throbbing, wet cunt, tightened around his bulging cock. The way he fisted his cock so much he couldn’t stand watching you flirting with that stupid boy.

Michael had a plan and he couldn’t wait to be inside you, but the question is…

When?

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[valeriianz]

blossoming romance prompts! Finding comfort in their scent

*arrives to the prompt several months late with starbucks* hey <3

Dream/Hob | Teen | for @dreamlingbingo adoptable square B1 "Hug Starved" | tags: human au, fluff, reunion, established relationship

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

The right side of the bed no longer smells like Hob.

Dream buries his face into the pillow, rubbing his nose into the plush, down feather filled material and inhales deeply, just to make sure–

He groans softly, unable to smell anything– turning his head with a frown and staring into the empty room. 

Hob was away on a business trip. And what was supposed to be a 5-day engagement turned into a full week, now going on ten days. Hob promised to be home “soon,” but had also shown excitement over the work he was doing, the connections he was making. This was a fantastic opportunity for Hob; he was due for a promotion and Dream knew the money would be good for both of them, for their future. They had been talking about moving, buying their own home, finally finding a place to make their own. The two of them…

But they’d never been separated this long before.

It feels foolish, becoming so upset over a mere 10 days. But even when they were friends, Dream and Hob were connected at the hip, their mutual friends often teasing them about dating long before either of them confessed their feelings for each other.

Dream pulls himself up from their bed, too large for a single person, and drags his feet to put on some tea, wrapping the blanket around himself like a cape.

Now they had been “officially” dating for nearly six months, and if their friends thought Dream and Hob were super glued together while they were “just friends…” well…

They tried not to be too obnoxious about it, the PDA. But Dream had always been a very physical lover, and Hob was nothing if not an enabler. He would allow Dream to crawl onto him during social events, happily making room for Dream on his lap without breaking conversation he might’ve been in. Encourage a drunken Dream pulling Hob into a sloppy kiss in full view of the bartender, strangers, and friends, manhandling Dream until they could stumble outside or into a bathroom.

People would brush it off as the two of them being in their “honeymoon phase,” but Dream knew this passion for Hob, the unending affection and love would never wane, so long as Hob also met him time and time again. 

Because it wasn’t just Dream initiating all the contact. Hob always had his hand in Dream’s, or on his shoulder, the small of his back, even just a light touch to indicate his presence. He loved sneaking kisses wherever he could reach on Dream– his cheek, his hand, his arms. He would stare at Dream from across the room, or sitting next to each other, like he couldn’t believe Dream was there at all. It was a heady experience, Dream finally meeting his match.

On his way to the kitchen, Dream pauses to eye the now monstrous pile of dirty laundry protruding out of the bathroom hamper– too forlorn to perform the most boring task that was washing and folding. He turns and steps fully into the bathroom, flicking the light on and staring down at the tall pile of clothes and, much like a cat on a counter, knocks the basket over.

Clothes cascade to the floor, all Dream’s, of course. But near the bottom of the hamper, Hob’s old clothes revealed themselves.

Feeling just a little silly, Dream abandons his mission that was tea, and digs through the clothing until he pulls out one of Hob’s favorite sweaters, dropping the blanket to yank it on– tugging the collar up to his nose and inhaling deeply– before diving back in and finding a pair of Hob’s flannel pajama bottoms.

—-----------------------------------

Hob slips his key in the lock, unable to bite back the huge smile that stretches across his face, as he turns the door knob and steps inside the apartment.

He knows Dream will be home, and armed with that knowledge, he quietly pushes the door open, peeking around before stepping inside. Hob had told Dream he’d be home “soon,” not elaborating any further, hoping to surprise his boyfriend with his arrival. His pulse thrummed happily under his skin, making Hob giddy as he carefully shrugged off his heavy backpack letting it fall on the couch while he toes off his shoes. He bites his tongue to call out for Dream, a flicker of worry at the emptiness of both the living room and kitchen, and checks the time on his phone. 

It’s 10am. Dream had been known to sleep in, especially on his off days. Hob makes his way to the bedroom, when the bathroom light catches his eye. And then, inevitably, the tangled mess of a boyfriend sitting on the floor, surrounded by dirty laundry.

Hob’s heart flutters in his rib cage at the image of Dream in what is clearly Hob’s old clothes, his smile growing as Dream’s head snaps up, his eyes widening comically and his jaw dropping at the sight of Hob. His raven black hair is a mess and the way his eyes appear puffy and slightly sunken in makes Hob’s chest cleave in.

“Surprise, love– whoa!”

Between one blink and the next, Dream was up and leaping into Hob’s arms, causing him to stumble back until his shoulders connected with a wall, arms circling tightly around Dream, holding him steady.

Hob laughs breathlessly, his heart soaring at the sudden weight and warmth of Dream surrounding him; legs crossed around his hips and arms coiling around Hob’s shoulders, his head tucked into Hob’s hairline.

Hob squeezes back, one arm around Dream’s back and the other under his butt to hold him steady, crushing their bodies together.

“Hey,” Hob whispers into Dream’s ear, his hand rubbing up and down Dream’s back. “I missed you, too.”

Dream’s head moves, nudging his nose further into Hob’s hair and sniffing deeply, the warm air tickling Hob and causing him to laugh gently.

“You okay?”

“I am better, now.” Dream’s voice rumbles against Hob’s skull. Hob sighs at the sound, so much better in person, so much clearer and beautiful than the endless phone calls they’d shared from the past near two weeks.

“You smell like me,” Hob smiles as he speaks, finally meeting Dream’s gaze as the other man pulls himself around to lay a kiss on Hob’s lips.

And it’s not just the smell of Hob’s stale sweat on the clothes, but Hob can also smell hints of his favorite cologne– something he only breaks out for special occasions– as well as whiffs of coconut from his shampoo.

“Mm…” Dream hums after several long, long seconds reacquainting himself with the inside of Hob’s mouth, making the other man pant deliriously. “Not enough, I think.”

Hob laughs again, breathless. His arms are beginning to strain from holding Dream up for this long, but the other man seems content in staying where he is, the blue of his eyes bright and inviting; so much more alive than through a phone screen. The idea of turning and pinning Dream to the wall, or even walking them to their bed, is very tempting right now. Hob hefts Dream just a little higher and the motion rocks Dream’s hips into his, causing Dream to touch their foreheads together with a small whine of pleasure.

“I need you inside me,” Dream purrs, his hands now on Hob’s face, pushing his hair back and brushing their lips together. “Like you promised.”

Hob had indeed promised, on one of their many explicit video calls, to show Dream how much he missed him… by staying in bed all day and surrounding Dream in his warmth, his touch, promising not an inch of Dream’s flesh to be forgotten by his lips and tongue and fingers. The memory of it is enough to send fire racing through Hob’s veins, the exhaustion from his flight banished and replaced by overwhelming want.

But then Hob feels more than hears Dream’s stomach give a low growl, both of them pausing comically as it passes.

Hob quirks an eyebrow.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

The silence is answer enough, and Hob hums, carefully bringing one hand around to press his thumb to Dream’s bottom lip.

“Come on,” Hob turns and manages a few steps out of the bathroom before Dream finally gets with the program and unfolds himself from Hob, stepping carefully onto the floor. “You’re gonna need all the energy you can get today.”

Hob winks as he says it, grinning at the playful spark in Dream’s eyes.

[m-jelly]

My lovely passenger princess.

Levi had plenty of money as the CEO of a tea, coffee and biscuit company. He could pay for everything and a lot more. After becoming a couple and getting engaged, the talk of possibly leaving your job so you could spend more time together came up. However, it resulted in Levi buying you a little shop where you sold plushies, noodles and snacks.

Your shop was your pride and joy. You loved the little area where people could make their noodles, eat and drink something nice too. Your place was like a cute version of a Japanese or Korean convenience store. It was only part-time for you because you wanted to do some hobbies and your staff were amazing, so the store was perfect.

Levi always picked you up from work, he loved doing it. He drove to your shop and walked inside with your favourite drink in hand from Starbucks. He couldn't help but smile when he saw you in your adorable little uniform.

"Bunny?"

You squeaked in delight, pulled your apron off and ran to your man. "Hello, Levi! Can I get a kiss and a cuddle?"

He leaned over and kissed you before wrapping his arm around you. "Mm, Always. You ready to go home?"

"Yes!"

He handed you the drink before putting his arm around you and leading you to his car. He opened the door for you and smiled when you got in. "Beautiful little bunny. I can't believe you'll be my wife soon."

You grinned at him. "I'm all yours, handsome."

He got on his side and relaxed. "Choose the music, okay?"

You connected your phone to his car and played a playlist you both loved. "This okay?"

"Anything you like is perfect, but wonderful choice." He leaned over and kissed you. "Strap in and make sure the seatbelt comforter is on your shoulder so it doesn't dig in."

You giggled as you did what he asked. You shifted the soft cover on the seatbelt onto your shoulder. "Ready."

He pulled away from the parking spot and started driving through the city. He reached over and placed his hand on the inside of your thigh. He would softly massage occasionally but release you when he needed to manoeuvre or change gear, when he was done he'd be back to massaging.

He pulled up to a red light with a long line. He leaned over and kissed you. "You need a snack?"

You hummed. "Sure."

He opened the compartment between the two of you to show the snack supply and drinks. "Anything you want?"

You grabbed some chocolate and ate a piece before feeding Levi some. "So yummy."

He licked his lips. "Mm, it is."

You grabbed a drink and helped Levi have it. "Thank you for the snack compartment."

He smirked at you. "Anything for you." He took your hand and showered it with kisses. "My bunny princess."

You giggled. "I'm all yours."

He released you and huffed. "Green light."

You hummed a laugh and enjoyed how grumpy Levi was. You reached over and rubbed his thigh making him smile. "There, there, Levi."

He took your hand and moved it up his thigh. "I'm happy now."

You leaned over and kissed his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too." He glanced over at you. "You want to go out for dinner?"

"Okay! Where are we going?"

He used his special technique that always worked. "Guess."

You frowned in such a cute way before a brightness engulfed your face. "Ramen!?"

He never had an idea of where to go and he knew if he asked you what you wanted, you'd get very shy. So, he'd always get you to guess and say yes to whatever you said because what you said was what you wanted. "Correct."

You wiggled in your seat. "Yes!"

He pulled up to a ramen place before leaning over to you. "Kiss?"

You kissed him over and over. You purred into the kiss when he tangled his fingers in your hair and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You shivered when his other hand moved up between your legs and massaged a sensitive part on the inside of your thigh.

He pulled back and lightly kissed you. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

He nuzzled his nose against yours. "Ready?"

"Mm."

He kissed your cheek. "Let me get the door for you." He got out before walking around to your side and opening the door. He offered his hand to you. "Come on, princess bunny."

You held his hand and stepped out. "Thank you."

He tugged you against him and kissed you. "Mm, mine."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn

@bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza

@hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously

[joels-darlin]

Bad Day

Pairings: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Warnings: hurt, angst, shouty Pedro (if that is even a thing), comfort, fluff, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, sad Pedro.

Summary: Pedro has a bad day and you bear the brunt of his frustrations.

Word count: 1.5k

Author Note: Appreciate that RPF isn't everyone's cup of tea so feel free to keep scrolling, I always make sure when writing for Pedro that I keep it to his true character and also respectful. Just a piece I've had in-progress for awhile and I've spent far too much time on it for it to go to waste. Enjoy and as always feedback is appreciated ♥ Special thanks to @ladybess-a03 for providing your beta reading services and wisdom, also for being a continued support ♥

AO3

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint where everything had gone astray. It was early, and he had woken up in a shocking mood; the bleak, grey, rainy weather outside and lack of sleep contributing to his miserable state.

It frustrated him to know that, of all days he had to leave the house, it was for something that could have been done over the phone. Next he couldn’t find any clean socks, and eventually had to forgo his mission to find some or else he’d be running late, and instead slipped on the worn pair from yesterday. Finally, upon entering the kitchen, he noticed they were out of coffee, so it looked like he was leaving even earlier than intended to stop at Starbucks for his fix.

So safe to say when you waltzed downstairs singing ‘Morning’ in a cheery tone it rubbed him the wrong way; irritated him, in fact. Pedro grunted in response, not in the mood for talking. Observing this straight away, you opted to retreating to the bedroom to change, giving him some space for five minutes.

┈

“Hey P, any idea where my laptop charger is?” you questioned as you reached the bottom step of the stairs. You were sure it was around here after working from home yesterday. Pedro was still in the kitchen, head down on his phone, thumbs stabbing away at the screen. No response.

“P? Do yo-”

“Oh my fucking god, WHATTT?…You know what, no wonder you can’t find it, this place is a fucking mess,” he said, lifting his arms to gesture to the various items haphazardly scattered across the room, his tone laced with frustration and anger.

“Have you even cleaned up in here this week? And, to answer your question, NO, I don’t know where the damn charger is,” he snapped back, continuing his tirade of anger. Bastard.

His venomous words hung in the air, coating the room with an awkward silence, and for the first time since you’d known him you were unsure what to say next. Yeah, okay, it had been a busy week for you both. Between your day job, Pedro between filming, costume fittings, and the constant interviews and photoshoots, trying to keep on top of the house in general was impossible. It wasn’t a huge mess by any means, just well-lived in. But every evening you found that you were both were too exhausted to even attempt chores.

You weren’t sure what audacity he had to assume the job of cleaning up was solely on you, to be honest. That wasn’t at all like the Pedro you knew.

“I’m going to work,” he grunted before grabbing his car keys, the door slamming behind him on the way out.

You stood frozen to the spot, partially in shock. Pedro had never raised his voice to you; he could be stern at times but never once had he acted like this. Glad it was a work from home day, you grabbed a glass of water before heading up to the home office.

┈

Today was one of the rare occasions where Pedro opted to sit in for his coffee, holed up in the dark corner of a Starbucks in the hopes that he wouldn’t get recognised. But in his haste to leave the house, he hadn’t bothered to check the time, and realised only once he’d started driving away from your home that he was at least two hours early for his first meeting of the day. Curling his hand around the now lukewarm cup of black coffee below him, sighing outwardly, his other hand came up to card through his already messy locks.

The events of the morning back at home were playing in his head on loop. Pedro didn’t mean to act the way he did, a complete and utter asshole. The feeling of regret pooled in his stomach as soon as the words left his mouth. Unfortunately he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed and taken it out on you which was completely unfair. In your case he knew how stressful work was at the moment spending your work from home days locked in the home office, constantly nattering away in meetings between trying to get your own tasks done to please managers.

What broke his heart the most was the look of sadness, and he supposed shock, that adorned your features when he spat those words out; eyes starting to well slightly with tears, your feet rooted to the ground almost in abhorrent horror at what he’d spat out. Only now, sat in this coffee shop, was he just beginning to realise the weight of his words and how they were directed towards only you. The onus of keeping things in check was on you both. Draining the last of his coffee he sighed again, leaving his seat and disposing of the cup on the way out. He had Hell a lot of grovelling to do.

┈

So far your day was not going smoothly after the events of this morning. Everything else then seemed to fall like fucking dominoes.

First your work laptop wouldn’t turn on, and only after two hours on the phone did IT decide it was broken and that you needed to come in for a replacement (brilliant, thanks for that. Real waste of time). Secondly, once getting a replacement, you had spilt once warm coffee all over the front seat in a rush to get home. The final nail in the coffin was on your commute back from the office. Focused on just getting home so you could attempt some work today, you nearly ended up in a crash.

Through no fault of your own (your head might have been all over the place on account of Pedro’s foul mood this morning, but you always paid attention on the roads), someone ran a red light. It just missed you, and nobody was hurt, but it was a close enough call that you needed to stop before heading the rest of the way home. Pulling over into the nearest petrol station for a breather, body shaking with fright, you had debated calling Pedro at this point. But knowing he was busy in meetings, and still being mad at him, you decided against it, eventually starving off the panic attack on your own. A massive sigh of relief left your lips upon parking the car on the drive. Knowing you were in for a long evening you hunkered down in the home office playing catch up with the pile of work that got pushed aside earlier in the day.

┈

All day you had played on his mind, especially during the fourth meeting of the day. Bored out of his skull, not really contributing and more listening and making script notes, this unexpected meeting was thrown into his schedule last minute which meant he was now home later than usual.

He’d missed you to the point where it made his chest ache, wanting nothing more than to rush inside and beg on his knees for forgiveness. Putting the car in park he sighed, glancing up at the window. The office light was still on which meant you were still working; he wasn’t surprised.

Locking the door behind him and placing the keys in the bowl by the entrance, he moved slowly in search of only you. His eyes doing a quick scan of the adjoining kitchen and front room. “Still upstairs” he thought, sighing loudly, hoping you would have heard his car pulling up. What he didn’t fail to miss - the place was now immaculate. That feeling of guilt again pooled in his stomach again like it did several hours ago. Pedro sat on the couch waiting; defeated and guilty, taking his phone out as a distraction. Eventually you made your presence known, coming downstairs. He stood to attention before your feet had the chance to touch the ground floor.

“Sweetheart…I-I-” he began.

“It’s okay, P don’t worry, I’m s-” you started, but couldn’t get anything out, his words interrupting yours.

“No, no! Querida, no, I’m the one who should be apologising, I was out of line. I snapped at you because I woke up a grump…it was uncalled for and I’m sorry…please come here” he said, begging in his tone, arms outstretched.

Padding along from the other side of the room you closed the gap, practically crushing against his warm chest. His arms came around your waist in a tight hug, placing a tender kiss atop your head. A few moments just to enjoy each other's embrace.

“I can’t apologise enough, mi amor” he said softly.

“Hmmm I might just forgive you…if I can get a kiss” Moving back from his chest so you could look at his face, Pedro leant down to meet you; foreheads now touching. His hand moved from your waist to cradle your head, thumb rubbing ever so gently over your cheek.

“Never have to ask sweetheart” he whispered softly.

Smiling down at you his hand moved down to your chin taking it in between his thumb and finger, gently guiding your lips together in a tender kiss.

There was one thing for certain the bad days were worth it if they all ended like this.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Snack Wars.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - niall and louis have done it, now it’s time for hazza to take part.

word count - 2.6k

in which, on this episode of snack wars, we sit down with a certain curly headed lad who goes by the name of harry styles who happens to be comparing british and american snacks.

"Hi, M’Harry Styles, and this is Snack Wars: Britain versus America on LADbible."

He was sat at a small table, wearing an open buttoned black blouse revealing his swallow tattooed partially, and a matching pair of black trousers, with a black version of his satellite stompers.

The scene cut to a moment of anticipation as Harry, a playful smile on his face, leaned forward to lift the silver cloche that concealed the surprise snack showdown. With an air of curiosity, he wondered aloud, "What ‘ave y’got for me, huh?”

With a theatrical flourish, Harry unveiled the hidden treasures. His eyes widened as he beheld the items laid before him.

"Well, this is intriguing," he mused.

On the British side, there sat a classic bone china teacup, adorned with delicate floral patterns. Steam wafted from the cup, carrying the unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed English tea. A smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips as he appreciated the comforting sight.

Then, on the American side, he found a tall Starbucks cup, its iconic logo staring back at him.

"Hot chocolate, huh?" Harry noted, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. The rich, velvety beverage was topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream, drizzled with chocolate syrup—a quintessential indulgence.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the contrast before him.

"A classic cup of English tea versus a Starbucks hot chocolate," he said with a playful grin. "S’like comparing tradition with a bit of modern comfort."

As he picked up the English teacup, Harry took a contemplative sip and savoured the warm, familiar flavour.

"Y’just can't beat a good cuppa," he admitted with a nod of approval.

Turning his attention to the Starbucks hot chocolate, as he brought the cup closer to his mouth and took a sip of the Starbucks hot chocolate, a warm smile crossed his face.

"Y’know," he mused, "S’m’son Jude's favorite drink at t’moment."

From behind the camera, the producer, Becky, chimed in with a playful tone.

"Well, Harry, you might have to take it home with you then," she suggested.

Harry turned toward the camera, a twinkle in his eye, and replied,

"Yeah, I might have to," adding a soft chuckle. The idea of bringing a taste of the challenge back to his family seemed rather appealing.

"N’this s’like a cosy hug in a cup," he quipped.

With both cups now in hand, Harry found himself in the middle of a delightful dilemma. He was torn between the classic cup of English tea and the comforting Starbucks hot chocolate. He took another sip of the hot chocolate, the rich cocoa flavour lingering on his taste buds, and then turned to the English tea, its aroma inviting him back to tradition.

With a playful frown, he mused aloud, "S’a tough decision, isn't it?"

The camera captured his contemplative expression as he hesitated. Finally, he extended his index finger, pointing toward the cup of English tea.

"Y’know," Harry said with a hint of hesitation, "y’just can't beat a bit of tradition."

As he made his choice, he looked into the camera, a mischievous glint in his eye, and added, "But don't get me wrong, s’hot chocolate s’fantastic too."

The crew behind the scenes chuckled at Harry's charming indecision, understanding the difficulty of choosing between two beloved beverages.

As the scene wrapped up with Harry having chosen the English tea, there was a moment of transition, and another producer, Sarah, stepped in, placing a fresh cloche on the table.

Harry, ever the showman, decided to play along. He feigned excitement, clapping his hands together as if he were a kid about to open a birthday present.

"Ooh, S’under this one, ey?" he exclaimed with playful enthusiasm.

The crew behind the camera burst into laughter at Harry's antics. It was a heartwarming moment of genuine amusement, and it made Harry feel happy that he could bring a bit of laughter to the set.

Sarah joined in on the fun, making a dramatic reveal as she lifted the cloche, unveiling a new surprise snack.

With the producer, Sarah, excusing herself to organise the next set of snacks, Harry turned back to face the camera. He couldn't help but maintain his charming grin, fully embracing the fun and spontaneity of the Snack Wars challenge.

With a sly wink to the camera, he reached forward, once again lifting the cloche. The reveal this time brought forth a quintessentially British delight – a plate of buttered crumpets. The golden-brown crumpets glistened under the studio lights, promising a warm, comforting taste of the UK.

As Harry lifted the cloche to reveal the buttered crumpets, he couldn't quite hide a slightly disdained expression. The golden discs of toasted goodness sat there, tempting, but his reaction was unmissable.

Producer Becky, who was watching closely, couldn't help but notice Harry's reaction. She raised an eyebrow and said, "Not a fan of crumpets, Harry?"

Harry chuckled, his signature honesty shining through.

"Y’know ‘hat?," he began, "M’not exactly t’biggest fan f’crumpets, t’be honest. S’the texture, y’see."

He leaned forward, elaborating, "M’don't really like how they feel in t’mouth. S’a bit... spongy f’m’liking." He demonstrated by pressing a finger into one of the crumpets, watching it bounce back. "But ey’, s’just me."

With the crumpets before him, Harry Styles decided to give them another chance. He leaned forward, picked up one of the buttered crumpets, and took a cautious bite. However, as soon as he tasted the spongy texture, his face contorted in discomfort.

He chewed for a moment, but it was clear that the texture didn't sit well with him. Harry quickly reached for a napkin and discreetly spat out the bite he had taken. He shook his head, a look of mild frustration on his face, and simply said, "I can't do it. I can't."

The crew around him chuckled, empathising with his culinary struggles. Harry Styles may be an international superstar, but even he had his food preferences.

Harry, ever the trooper, decided to set aside the crumpets and turned his attention to the colourful box of Lucky Charms. With a playful glint in his eye, he grabbed a bowl and poured a generous serving of the whimsical cereal. The rainbow-hued marshmallow shapes and toasted oat pieces tumbled into the bowl, creating a delightful medley of colours.

He then grabbed the jug of cold milk and added a generous splash, watching as the cereal pieces began to bob and soak up the milk. With a cheeky grin, he couldn't resist poking fun at his previous crumpet encounter. He turned to the camera and quipped, "Anything's better than those crumpets, am I right?"

The crew burst into laughter, sharing in his jest. Harry then picked up a spoon, scooped up a spoonful of Lucky Charms, and brought it to his mouth. As the sweet, crunchy goodness met his taste buds, his eyes sparkled with delight. He savored the delightful combination of textures and flavors, nodding approvingly.

With a mouthful of cereal, he gave a thumbs-up to the camera, clearly enjoying the contrast between the playful sweetness of the American cereal and the earlier challenge of the British crumpets.

“One point to America.” He grinned after he swallowed the mouthful.

The scene transitioned smoothly, and as the camera focused on the table, another cloche awaited Harry’s playful curiosity. With a grin, he leaned forward and lifted the cloche to reveal a Greggs bakery wrapper and a McDonald's wrapper neatly placed side by side.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "Well, well, well," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Can't go wrong with either of these, can ya?"

The crew laughed, understanding the dilemma he was about to face – a classic choice between the savoury delights of a Greggs bakery treat and the fast-food comfort of McDonald's.

With a mock-serious expression, he picked up the Greggs wrapper, his anticipation evident. "S’what we've got here,ey?"

As Harry pulled the Greggs wrapper open, he was met with a surprise – a vegan sausage roll neatly nested inside. He leaned forward, his curiosity piqued, and brought the roll closer to his nose to take in its scent.

He gave it a tentative sniff and then grinned.

"Interesting," he mused, before taking a hearty bite out of the vegan sausage roll. His eyes twinkled as he chewed, clearly contemplating the taste.

After a few moments, Harry swallowed and offered his verdict.

"Well, I like it," he said with a nod. "S’got that sausage taste, y’know?

With the taste of the vegan sausage roll still on his palate, Harry shifted his attention to the McDonald's wrapper. He couldn't help but smile as he pulled out a Fillet-O-Fish box. The familiar golden arches symbolised a comforting fast-food favorite .

The producer, who had orchestrated this surprise, chimed in, "We thought you might enjoy that, Harry, considering you're pescatarian."

Harry's eyes brightened as he looked at the Filet-O-Fish box.

"Well, thank y’for thinking of me," he replied warmly. "S’always nice t’have options."

With gratitude in his voice, he proceeded to open the box, revealing the crispy fish sandwich inside. The delightful aroma of the fish and tartar sauce filled the air, making him even more eager to take a bite.

With a grin of anticipation, Harry took a big bite of the Fillet-O-Fish. The moment the flavors hit his taste buds, his eyes closed in pleasure, and he let out a satisfied hum. It was clear that the familiar taste brought him genuine delight.

He tilted his head back slightly, savoring the moment, and the producers couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiastic reaction. It was a simple yet heartwarming display of food appreciation.

As he finished that delicious bite, one of the producers asked, "Harry, do you have McDonald's a lot?"

Harry shook his head, his mouth still full. He chewed and swallowed before answering,

"Not really, but it does hold a special place in m’heart."

He continued,

"Y’see, it was actually mine and m’fiancée's first takeaway together, about six years ago. So, s’got some sentimental value." Harry's eyes softened as he reminisced about that memorable moment.

The crew smiled, appreciating the personal touch Harry added to the Snack Wars challenge.

So it was safe to say that McDonald’s got the point for that one.

As Harry lifted the next cloche lid, he uncovered a delightful surprise – a Victoria sponge cake and a Twinkie side by side. The contrast between the classic British treat and the iconic American snack was evident.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of the Victoria sponge, its layers of sponge and sweet jam filling beckoning to him.

"Now, this looks promising," he remarked.

However, his gaze lingered on the Twinkie, and he let out a small chuckle.

"Ah, Twinkies," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "V’actually had a bit of a... bad experience with these."

Producer Becky, always curious, couldn't resist asking for more details. "Oh, really? What happened, Harry?"

Harry leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Well, when I was around nineteen, I was touring in t’States," he began, "n’someone dared me t’eat a whole box of Twinkies in one go." He paused, his eyes crinkling with a mix of nostalgia and humor. "I took up t’challenge, but let's just say it didn't end well. I ended up... well, throwing them all up."

The crew burst into laughter at Harry's candid confession. It was a tale of youthful daredevilry and the consequences of overindulgence, and it added another layer of charm to the Snack Wars challenge.

Harry couldn't help but be drawn to the sight of the Victoria sponge cake. Its soft layers and sweet jam filling were a comforting temptation. With a subtle smile, he slowly pushed the Twinkie away from him, turning all his attention to the British delight that made his mouth water.

Without hesitation, he picked up the entire cake with both hands and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, took an enormous, unapologetic bite. The sweet icing smeared all over his scruff and lips as he indulged in the delightful treat.

Amidst Harry's enthusiastic cake-eating, the crew couldn't contain their laughter. Icing adorned his face, and the scene was a humorous mix of sophistication and playful indulgence.

With his mouth full of cake, Harry attempted to speak, his words muffled as he declared, "Britain... takes the point on this one!" His sentiment was clear despite the sugary obstacle, and the crew erupted into even more laughter at his charmingly messy verdict.

As the Snack Wars challenge continued, the next cloche was unveiled, revealing yet another intriguing matchup. On one side of the table sat a bottle of Pimms, accompanied by a glass of lemonade, and on the other side was a shot glass with a bottle of bourbon beside it.

Harry, ever the adventurer, leaned forward to examine the options before him. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he took in the contrasting beverages.

"S’a fun choice," he remarked with a grin. "We've got a taste f’British summer with Pimms and lemonade on one side, and a good old American bourbon on the other."

With a thoughtful nod, Harry decided to start with the Pimms and lemonade. He picked up the bottle of Pimms and carefully poured some into the glass of lemonade. The vibrant red and orange hues mingled with the fizzy lemonade, creating a refreshing blend.

He brought the glass up to his lips and took a sip. His eyes lit up as he savoured the harmonious combination of flavours.

"S’good," he declared with a contented smile.

Harry leaned back in his chair, gazing into the distance with a nostalgic glint in his eye.

"Y’know," he began, "s’actually reminds me f’when I go back t’m’mum's house in the summer. S’her favourite drink."

After enjoying the Pimms and lemonade, Harry turned his attention to the bourbon, a drink he admitted he hadn't had much experience with. He picked up the shot glass, inspecting the rich amber liquid within.

"V’not really had bourbon before," he admitted with a curious expression.

Undeterred, he decided to give it a try and threw the shot down the back of his throat. The moment the bourbon hit his palate, he grimaced as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat. He shook his head, trying to soothe the sensation.

The crew watched with amusement and sympathy, realising that bourbon could be quite the intense experience for a first-timer.

After his adventurous sip of bourbon, Harry Styles placed the shot glass back on the table and looked between the two drinks before him – the Pimms and lemonade and the bourbon. His expression conveyed a sense of contemplation as he considered the flavours and experiences each beverage offered.

With a thoughtful nod, he finally made his decision.

"I think," he began, "I'll give the point t’Britain on this one."

His choice was clear, as he favoured the refreshing blend of Pimms and lemonade, a taste that held sentimental value and fond memories for him.

With the Snack Wars challenge completed, Harry still faced the camera, a contented smile on his face after the culinary adventure he had just embarked upon. The table before him held remnants of both British and American treats, a testament to the diversity of flavours he had experienced.

Becky, one of the producers, couldn't resist the opportunity to share the results. She leaned in and asked, "Harry, would you like to know the final result?"

Harry turned toward her, his curiosity piqued, and replied with a playful grin, "Yes, I'd love t’know!"

Becky beamed and announced, "Britain won!"

Harry chuckled and nodded in approval.

"Ah, y’can't go wrong with t’British," he quipped, showcasing his patriotism with a touch of humour.

[crazy-bxmbo-bxtch]

Yandere HUMAN! Hazbin Hotel X Popular reader

Summary: Separate Hazbin characters and their love and obsession for the school's popular girl

A/n: I'm very excited about this one, also College AU/ Modern

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Lucifer

___________________________________________

Alastor

I feel as if he would like to have an innocent or the mega bitch type of girl. An innocent to play into his love for corruption, a bitch so he can break her sprirts.

Now, if you're an innocent, he will be in awe of you. The reason you are popular is your kindness and beauty toward others, even the bad ones.

Alastor would constantly look at you during lectures, and it was noticeable to anyone who squinted, looking at you promptly.

One day, he will gain the door to be active in your life, getting close to you, by studying.

Imagine this, you are failing a class, and you ask your teacher after in private about it. After talking, you realize there is no fixing your current grade for the class, and the semester is almost over. Not to worry, Alastor will happily invite you over to study with him.

Now... a smart person, knew not to go into Alastor's home, as he is the school's sketchy phyco, as in, the whole university is pretty sure he kills people in private....and practiced black magic..

But in your position, you need the help, plus you're pretty sure he's not a killer, I mean, how could he? Based on the talk you had, he's a man who likes music, loves and respects his mother, and knows how to sing and dance. He's harmless. He was so sweet too, telling you things like "the color on your lips looked Devine on you doe." Or "such a pretty thing." He was even kind enough to make tea....

Once you were knocked out, his plan had set up into motion, then when u woke all you know is that alastor saved you from some rapists, he said "they wanted to take something precious from you." You believed him, now you were the new power couple on campus.

Now, if your a bitch, be in for some hardcore fi

Fuckary. Alasor is attracted to your spunk and your sass. He wants to be the only person who sees it.

As you beat up some pathetic girl who dared to question your delightful singing voice, Alastor was watching in awe from afar. You look so cute when you are upset. You can do no wrong in his eyes.

When it comes to courting, Alastor will be using a different approach and technique. You are not so trusting and lenient as you could have been.

I feel Alastor would show you the crazy he possesses. Let you know that, compared to him, you are weak and need protection, not independence.

Imagine you are running through your home, only in a T-shirt and panties, trying to escape the stranger who just burst into your home. As you run, you rush into the bathroom, locking the door and barricading it with anything you can find. You struggle to unlock your phone as you do so, the person says, "I wouldn't do that, my dearest." You recognized the voice, and all your fear was replaced with anger. "Alastor! What are you doing? I knew you seemed off but not this fucking unhinged!!"

As the house fell silent, Alastor let out a chuckle, "Now my dear, it's time for this attitude of yours to falter." You blacked out, now you can't leave his home, forced to drop out and become a housewife.

In either case Alastor will always

1. Obsess

2. Posses

3. And mf PROTECT

Charlie

I feel like she would also like someone coming from both mean and nice sides, a nice girl because AHHHHH HOW CUTE IS SHE, and a mean one because she wants to find your softer side and help bring it out of you.

An innocent angel that Charlie is good friends with! You both hang out all the time. You could practically be besties. Forever, and ever, and maybe even more? no, even more!

People around campus would notice how much she spends time with you and how much she touches you, she touches certain parts of your body for too long, you could be at Starbucks and she would just be practically hanging on your shoulder.

But don't be fooled, you never pay for your little "bestie dates" when you are with her, even if you offered to go and even offered to pay and she agrees to you paying, you will never be able to truly pay.

Picture this, during a lecture you text Charlie. Her being the lovesick cinnamon roll she is, she texts back immediately, you ask if she wants to go out to a park or something, and she says, 'It's a date :)'. While you are preparing later that day to hang out with your friend, Charlie is getting ready to hang out with her lover....if you are not catching on.....Charlie is DELULU.

Your friends try to warn you that she's trouble, and a little off, but you ignore them because your friends are harsher than you, you are the sweet one of the group.

Charlie's obsession with you is, for the most part, completely unknown. She can hide her sinister intentions with a smile and a trip to Starbucks.

She writes you love songs that she hopes to be able to sing for you one day, she's a charmer like her father after all.

Her biggest fear is you not wanting to be with her anymore, friends or more, she does not care, she will always make sure that u will see her as one of the people most close to you.

Now, a meaner darling will require a more pushy Charlie, she gets all up in your business, stalks your schedule, and ultimately...BOTHERS THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU.

She never leaves you alone, always trying to be overly friendly to you. She tries to get you to open up to her and look at her as someone you can trust, but hell no.

Eventually, she grows a little impatient and uses her advantage of being the principal's daughter to good use. Now you keep getting in trouble with a punishment of study hall and another punishment of having Charlie monitor you.

As you sit there under her watchful eye you can feel something peering through you, not her but a part of her. She smiles and goes back to talking about random nonsense, you got 10 more days of study hall.

...sucks to be u

Vaggie

I feel like she would love a weaker kinder girl, who is also very talkative, one who is like Heather Macnemera, one who is popular because of peer pressure. She would notice and take note of it. All of it, even your life.

The fact that you love, jewelry, hair clips, and having your nails done every month. She would definitely be awkward as hell and would get flustered a little easily.

It also was not a shock...to me at least, that you seemed to pay her some attention, whether you asked her about homework, what she does in her free time, and what her favorite foods are.

She loves the fact that you like to yap because she loves to listen. I can imagine...

Vaggie was doing her work for her major. Blasting music in her earbuds and just vibeing, when she gets a tap on her shoulder. "Hey, you got the notes from earlier?" She freezes when she sees you, "oh...uh..what?" She fucked up her response..shit..."oh..I was asking if you got the notes from earlier? He was going a little too fast for me, I blanked." You were done asking.

You scooch over lean over her shoulder and start copying her notes. Vaggie was panicking, not only were you this close to her but, you spoke to her, with not a hint of malice. Your friends give anyone hell so she was luckey to get this treatment..or that's what she thought. You were always sweet to eveyone...

After you took down the notes you started asking her meaningless questions like, 'What's your favorite color or food?' She would answer, then all of a sudden, "Ms. L/s, do you mind carrying your conversation at another time!?" The professor shouted, but, you always clap back " Well damn, chill out I was just getting the notes your fast ass keeps speeding through, not my fault." That shut him up, now all Vaggie has to do is keep you focused on her just a little....ok maybe a lot more, now she has your attention and she would be damned if she stopped now.

You both became close, Vaggie was an amazing friend...she always protected you, and made sure you stayed by her side and out of harm's way, she was amazing at self-defense, and she would always take you to your favorite fast food places. You did not even know she was crazy....oh well, need to pay attention more.

Lucifer

Now I know this man would be a class clown, it's giving Goofy short king, bro cracks jokes at the teacher that would low-key be insulting or straight rude, especially the teachers that gained some type of excessive liking of you.

He knows everything about you, your fave color, food, jewelry, car....license plate...what your car smells like.....adress....credit card number....all the numbers...anyway.

He is so lovestruck over you he would do anything to entertain you and make you laugh, even though you are two grown adults in college but eh, everyone needs to have fun once in a while.

Now, since in the show, his wife is an entertainer, I feel as though in this he would also have an entertainer darling, one that dances sings, or even acts. He always is there at your performance, he imagines that whatever you are doing is to make him happy, but he's already happy with you ..in his head at least, you do what you do because you love it, but let him be delulu.

He seems very touch starved so I know he would be clinging. Always 5 feet away from you, going off campus for food? He'll ride with you. Does YOUR class start soon? He will drop you off then go to his.

Lucifer, being Goofy, would have been already popular, so many thought you two were dating, lucifer would proudly smile and wall around like you two are together...he could only dream.

You noticed he had a thing for ducks, a little weird, but you can look past that because knows origami....and he makes duck origami for you.. which is hella random but oh well. He even made one that looks like you...he also has a secret one, well like two. They look like you both and are making a heart shape, you don't know about it.

~"Heyyy N/N, sooooo...whatcha doing..?" He asked mentally attacking himself for losing confidence halfway through his introduction. You tell him you want to head over to the park and eat sandwiches and feed the ducks, HIS WIFE, he just loves you. "YOU BETCHA, I'LL BE THERE IN 30". it's a date for him.

While you two sat and laughed, he was beaming at the fact his bad jokes were working, maybe he has a chance? You talk about majors and what you plan to do when you both leave, and he loved that you loved the arts, did he ever mention he sings?~

One thing I know is that this man likes to stare and make faces, he's jealous, what can he say? He won't admit it though, he's too prideful duh. If he attends one of your performances he watches so closely, and he almost forgets about the men making inappropriate comments about your body, they will be handled shorty though, whether he damages their dignity, or fucks them...up...he fucks them up.

Not much thought, just vibes ✨️

Requests: OPEN

[nknoxe-n]

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Carmel Hearts·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳

The morning rush at the coffee shop was in full swing when Barou stormed in, his presence commanding attention even in the bustling crowd. You, the barista, had seen your fair share of intense customers, but Barou was a different breed. He approached the counter with a determined look, as if about to challenge you to a duel rather than order coffee.

“One double shot venti caramel macchiato with extra caramel, extra whipped cream, and a shot of vanilla,” he ordered, his tone as fierce and commanding

You raised an eyebrow, it's not what you were expecting, but you nodded trying to hide the dumbfounded look on your face “Coming right up...?”

As you prepared his drink, you couldn’t help but glance at him. He'd become a regular sometimes ordering more than one drink which is how you learned he had two younger sisters, one that really seemed to like pink-drinks and the other usually taking some sort of lemonade. 

The rate he would drink caffeine was worrying though while his sisters seemed to get some of the less caffeine heavy drinks Barou's regular was some sort of double shot coffee with caramel, it struck you as weird, someone as masculine as him ordering some of the more 'femenine' drinks at Starbucks or maybe the government finally put a chip in your head to think like a sexist person.

“Hey, uh, are you sure you don’t want to switch to decaf?” you suggested gently, handing over the drink.

Barou glared at you, his intensity unwavering. “I need the energy. Got a lot to do.”

You nodded, trying to mask your concern. “Just… you know, moderation is key.”

He scoffed, taking a long sip of his macchiato. “Moderation is for the weak. I need to be at my best, always.”

You watched as he found a seat, the brightly colored drink looking almost comical in his large hands. Despite his gruff exterior, there was something endearing about his dedication—even if it was just to his coffee.

The next day at the coffee shop started like any other, with the usual morning rush of customers and the smell of freshly brewed coffee and fruity sugars filling the air. You were busy behind the counter, taking orders and preparing drinks with practiced ease talking with regular customers, sharing a few laughs here and there. 

Just as you were wiping down the counter, Shoei Barou strode in, his presence as suffocating as ever. He approached the counter with a determined stride, though today there was a slight nervous energy about him that you couldn't quite place, he seemingly refused to meet your eyes.

“One… uh, surprise me,” he said, his voice a touch softer than usual.

You raised an eyebrow, noticing the departure from his usual specific orders. “Sure thing, Coming right up.”

As you prepared his drink, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He seemed to be lost in thought, his usual intensity tempered by something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you decided it was time to give him a break from the large caffeine intake, making him an Iced Black Tea Lemonade.

When the drink was ready, you placed it on the counter. “Here you go.”

Barou looked at the drink, then at you, and hesitated for a moment. With a swift motion, he handed you the money for the drink. “Keep the change,” he muttered, his cheeks tinted with a faint blush, before quickly turning to leave.

You blinked in surprise, unfolding a piece of paper hidden amongst the yen, scrawled on it was a phone number, followed by a hastily written note: 'In case you ever need a break from coffee.'

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up to see him heading towards the door, his usual confident stride slightly awkward now. He glanced back once, meeting your eyes briefly, before disappearing out into the bustling street.

A small smile graced your lips, it was a cute gesture, and you couldn't help but tuck the piece of paper into the pocket of your pants instead of the apron, completely ready to save it as a contact in your phone.