#But they should have both gotten proper ones anyway

[blissfulrain12]

Jimmy's apology to Curly is bullshit. At least it is to me. First the only thing Jimmy is apologizing for is taking the Captain position from Curly. Nothing else. Because it's just Jimmy handing responsibility over to Curly again, you know scapegoating him. This is why he doesn't apologize to Daisuke or Swansea despite clearly feeling bad about them. This is why he doesn't even think of Anya.

Jimmy's not actually sorry for hurting Curly. There's no "Sorry I beat you and force fed you meds" or "Sorry I verbally abused you in front of the entire crew" or even "Sorry I ate your leg". Instead we get "You were right being Captain is hard, you be Captain again cause you're better than me. Also let me pretend to save you so I feel like a hero". Yeah Jimmy's only sorry he got himself into more trouble than he could handle even if he feels bad about how some of the crew ended up.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Wife and Mother To Be

Synopsis: While you and Joe are shopping for a friend's baby shower, he has a realization about his future with you.

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Requested by @hoodharlow 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Standing in the baby section of Target and holding up two different onesies to compare them, your phone started to vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans. Placing one of them across your arm, you pulled your phone out to answer it and was greeted by a frantic boyfriend.

“Baby! Where did you run off to this time? You said we were coming in here for toothpaste and face masks. Next thing I know, I turn around and my girlfriend is missing! Are you at Starbucks again?! You ALWAYS do this when we come in here.” You heard your boyfriend say as you picked up and didn't wait for a proper greeting.

“You were literally standing there for fifteen minutes comparing different ones so I walked away. I'm in the baby section looking at clothes. And no, I already went to Starbucks and my drink is gone so I'll need to make another stop before we leave.”

“No, no, and no. I am literally taking you to lunch so no more stops and wait a minute, why are you in the baby section? Is there something you need to tell me?” Joe asked and you immediately rolled your eyes.

“For Gabby! Her baby shower is tomorrow, remember? Just come over here and help me pick things out for her.”

“Oh, right. Be right there, I'm walking over now.”

It was another two minutes when you saw Joe coming towards you and he greeted you by placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Wait a minute, why do you have a cart? We got a basket when we came in here. What did you plan on buying her? The entire section? Am I paying for this?”

“Joseph, will you relax!? I'm just getting her a few things and then we can go eat. Now what do you think about these?” You asked as you held up the same two onesies to show him.

“Hmm, what is she having again?” Joe asked as he was looking at both of them.

“A girl, Joe. Both of these are pink.”

“So? What's your point? I wear pink too.”

“But not something that says princess on it!” You responded to him as you laughed.

“At least not yet anyway and I like both of them.”

“Okay good. Both it is and I’m ignoring you.”

“I should ignore you for leaving me by myself.”

“Oh, that's right. I forgot that you need supervision all the time.”

“No, that's you. I'm a responsible adult. You're the one who comes in here for one thing when you tell me you'll be back in twenty minutes but an hour goes by and you're nowhere to be found.”

“And you use whatever I bring back home so you benefit from it so I don’t want to hear it.” You told him with a smirk and now it was Joe’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Come on and help me. Sooner we finish, the sooner we get food and go home.” You told him and he quickly agreed as he started browsing the baby toys.

Before you knew it, another thirty minutes had passed by and the two of you had a cart full of different things for Gabby. You were satisfied with how much you had gotten, but Joe was still browsing.

“Babe, come on. This should be enough.” You told him as you came up behind and wrapped your arms around him as he was now comparing two different diaper brands and you suddenly got a flashback to the toothpaste situation.

“You can never have enough diapers though, right?”

“Sweetheart, we got her four packs already.”

“Yeah, but are those really the best ones? I think that these might be better in case she has a blow out. My nephew did that to me and I still have PTSD. Therapy was needed after that.” Joe told you as he put the other diapers back and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“Not funny, babe. I didn't realize how much shit could come out of someone so little.”

“It is funny, Joseph and I wish I was there to be able to see your face when it happened.”

“Keep going and I'm not feeding you.” Joe told you as he put the diapers you had gotten in the cart back and replaced them with the brand that he wanted.

“But, I need energy in order to ride you later.” You replied and Joe immediately turned a bright shade of red as you began to laugh.

“BABE!”

“What? What'd I say?”

“You know what you said. Come on so we can go.”

Later on that night you were sitting on the middle of the floor in your shared bedroom with Joe when he walked in to see what you were doing.

“You run away from me in Target and at home. Did I do something?” Joe playfully asked as he sat across from you and began to help you wrap the gifts for Gabby.

“Nothing at all, Joey. Doing this so I can spend the rest of the night cuddling my amazing boyfriend whom I love to the moon and back.”

“Just the moon, not further?”

“Well we aren't going to the sun unless we want to burn to a crisp so yeah the moon.”

“I'll take it.”

You were folding the onesies when Joe was simply admiring you. Before he could stop himself, he blurted it out.

“When are we going to have one?” He asked and your mouth instantly hit the floor, but you tried to compose yourself.

“Um, have a what?” You asked clearly flustered and Joe simply laughed.

“You know what I mean.” Joe responded as he pulled you to sit in his lap as he kissed the top of your head while his arms wrapped around you.

“You want a baby? With me?” You asked with your voice dripping with uncertainty.

“I want everything with you. I thought that much was obvious. And not just one baby, multiple.” He answered and you turned around to look at him.

“You're serious?”

“I love you and I'm as serious as a heart attack.”

“Well you low key just gave me one.” You muttered against his chest and he laughed.

“Don't you want that with me?”

“Of course I do. I want nothing more than to make it a reality. I just didn't really know how to tell you or if you were ready. I mean you are literally at the peak of your career.”

“Baby, you can tell me anything and everything. You know that. And so what? If this is something that we both want, we're going to make it work.”

“You're not messing with me?”

“Now, why would I do that? I want to make you my wife too whenever that time comes. Mrs. Sheisty has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

Now it was your turn to shy away and hide in his chest and all he did was laugh.

“In that case, I can't wait for you and our daughter to have matching pink outfits.”

“Oh, so you want a girl first?”

“Of course, girls run the world and she is going to have you wrapped around her little finger just like I do now.” You told him as you poked his nose.

“If that's the case, you want to get started? I heard that making the baby is the fun part.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.

Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day

—Digging Gaze

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt. 

Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason. 

A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance. 

So that left you here. 

You were pregnant. 

You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test. 

Pregnant.

It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course. 

But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.

And you wouldn’t put this on him.

At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face. 

“Johnny?” You ask, blinking. 

The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.

“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—” 

The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave. 

“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.” 

You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”

Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant. 

Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.

“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”

“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”

“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you. 

“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”

“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”

“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”

“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”

“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”

“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”

In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.

And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.

Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.

The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else. 

You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink. 

“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.

Damn that Scot.

“Eight and a half,” you say quietly. 

Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause. 

“When’s the next appointment—”

“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”

Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you. 

Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.

“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.

“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”

“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.” 

“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”

“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…”

Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.

A daughter. 

But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either. 

This was new territory.

“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath. 

“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”

“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”

“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.

You had more self-respect than that.

“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer. 

Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon. 

You frown. 

You huff.

And you open the door wider.

“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”

The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.

[moonstruckme]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt. 

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen. 

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife. 

“Overruled,” he decrees. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.” 

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out. 

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.” 

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?” 

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast. 

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up. 

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips. 

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to. 

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off. 

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck. 

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him. 

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?” 

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.” 

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.” 

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both. 

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.” 

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.” 

You sigh. “I figured.” 

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?” 

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler. 

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck. 

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.” 

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows. 

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.” 

“Wasn’t ready for what?” 

“To be sick.” 

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?” 

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb. 

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums. 

“What is it?” James asks. 

“Thirty nine point five.” 

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate. 

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?” 

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius has the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.” 

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice. 

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.” 

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.” 

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb. 

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

[serosluv2]

obsessed bf x pretty gf trope hcs w sero & shoto pls & ty 😁😁 (seperately pls)

It’s only 7 months late but here u go anon 😘

a/n: I wrote this in an hour in the bathtub so if it is shit- don’t tell me bc I’m just getting back into writing 😭😭

Shoto Todoroki

He fits this trope so well.

He is THEE resident pretty boy of UA so it makes perfect sense that he has the prettiest girl in all of Japan. (The world)

He is the teeny weeny ist bit dense on like how to take proper photos of you for the ‘gram but trust that he WILL be searching up everything about lighting and angles and exposure and zoom- all that nonsense.

If you’re a social media girly he may leave like one or two comments. He isn’t the best about being outwardly obsessed with you, he is all about those private small moments. Not being able to take his eyes off you anywhere. Always needing to be beside you. If he can’t be with you then trust he is texting you at every free moment and expects a response within 5 minutes.

He loves shopping with you and helping you pick out outfits or jewelry or how to style your makeup that day. He has no real opinion on what looks better tho he just loves seeing you get all prettied up. (Yk that tiktok where the girl is trying to decide on a dress color and her bf is just like “wtv u want mama u look breathtaking in both” ?That’s him.)

I feel like he doesn’t really buy you anything in the beginning of your relationship bc he doesn’t really see the point/value or something in that BUT all it takes is for kaminari to get you some product you’ve been wanting for a while for secret santa and seeing how touched you were by the gesture sends him into over drive:

“OH MY GOD! KAMI!!” You exclaim- wrapping your arms around him. “How did you know? I’ve been looking for this everywhere!” Shoto notices how big your eyes got and the slight blush on your cheeks from excitement and he feels, something unpleasant. Jealousy? Envy? Possessiveness? Whatever it is he doesn’t like how grateful you’re acting toward the blonde. I mean sure, he got you something nice you’ve wanted but that’s not his job (he just so happened to get you for secret santa so he kind of had to get you something) he’s not your boyfriend only your boyfriend- HIM- should be gifting you stuff. Then he kinda has a “ohh.” Moment and realizes he has never really gotten you anything just because.

Anyways after that whole interaction he is getting you anything and everything you look at for more than a second. You keep looking at some necklace at the store? Bought. He sees you liking tiktoks about girls getting flowers? Now you’re getting a bouquet every date night. Does he himself have money? No, but that No.1 hero daddy sure does. And let’s be honest he kind of owes shoto for making his childhood - for lack of a better word- awful.

In conclusion, Shoto loves his pretty girl and will do anything she asks of him without question.

Hanta Sero

Clawing at my cage for this man.

Now sero has been… infatuated with you since he first laid eyes on you one faithful morning. You were ordering at some coffee shop he passes by on his way to school and just one glance had him stopped dead in his tracks. The way your hair framed your face perfectly, your face in general because holy shit- you were gorgeous. Straight out of a magazine. He quickly took notice of the little embellishments you made to your uniform.. uniform? The same one Mina has. OH MY GOD YOU GO TO UA AND HE HAS NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE?

He literally cannot stop thinking about you and boom you appear again in the halls. Your going the opposite direction has him with your friends and he sees you all have a little cafe cup. Did you buy them all a drink before class? So you’re stupidly gorgeous and nice. Great, he, for sure, has no chance with you now.

But oh that’s where he is wrong.

When you guys start dating he actually cannot believe it. He is very guarded at first because- now it’s my personal hc that sero is a bit insecure- he can’t fathom how you, YOU, would actually want to date someone like…him.

But once those walls come down he doesn’t shut up about you. Seriously all his friends are so annoyed:

“Good god soy sauce if you mention your little girly friend again I’m hurling you across the city.”

“You’re just mad you don’t have a girl as pretty as mine- don’t worry baku-man, I’m sure one day some poor person will take pity on your soul.”

Sero did in fact get hurled across the city that day.

Now where he differs from Shoto is that this man is a GOD with a camera. He has that artistic eye and is able to capture you being your baddest/cutest/authentic self.

Literally ya’ll

He also has a good sense of style. He never thinks you look bad in one thing versus another but he will take into account the vibe of where you’re going and what’s you’ll be doing and give his opinion based on that. Because he grew up with sister and knows how to get around the “which one looks better?” Type question without hurting you.

Now sero doesn’t have money to spoil you senseless but what he does have is the forever lasting instinct to put your comfort above his own. It’s freezing and you didn’t wear a jacket because “a hoe ever gets cold”? Don’t worry sero will give you his and be visibly growing icicles on his body to keep you warm. Feet hurt from those impractical shoes? He’s caring you all the way home even if he is still terribly sore from a killer arm workout the day before with kirishima. A no a mudy puddle and you’re wearing your new white shoes :(! Well sero is laying his jacket down over it or simply caring you over the puddle. He isn’t the type to roll his eyes at how “ridiculous” or “spoiled” you’re being. You are y/n freaking l/n. He’ll do whatever you need to make sure nothing in your life goes wrong.

He also is the type to spam comments in your TikTok or Insta post and makes all his friends do the same. Not that you need it- he just loves fueling your ego.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

NFWMB (Nothing Fucks With My Baby)

Pairing: Reader x Venom

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: you get kidnapped, there's some cannon level violence, nothing to write home about &lt;3

Genre: idk if I should really classify this as angst fr but the ending is fluffy!

Summary: Carnage returns, his mission remains the same; kill Venom. And he plans to use you to do it.

Based on this ask by @weebnotheree (thank you so much for the request, I know it took a while so I appreciate your patience, I hope you like it <3)

***

"Hey y/n!" Your coworker skirts over to your desk with curious excitement.

"Yes?" You glance up from your computer at her.

"Your boyfriend is a reporter isn't he?"

"Correct. Where is this going exactly?"

"Well do you think he'd be able to come cover the charity gala this weekend?" She asks.

"He doesn't really- cover this sort of thing? He'd need to get assigned to it. But I can check with him, he can ask his boss and maybe they'll send someone else down." You concede. It can't hurt, after all, you do need the exposure for the event anyway.

Hours later, after you've both gotten home from work and eaten dinner. You're winding down for the day with Eddie by watching a show together when you propose the question from your coworker.

"Eddie quick question." You say, not lifting your head from his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He's been tracing patterns against your leg for the past ten minutes.

"Do you think you could come cover the charity gala this weekend? My coworker Dani thought it'd be a good idea." You tell him.

"I don't usually write those sorts of pieces." He hums.

"I know I told her, but I also told her I'd ask anyway. It doesn't have to be you, if your boss sends someone else that's fine. We're just aiming to get more eyes on the event." You shrug.

"I'll talk to my boss. He'll probably send someone. Not me though."

"Yeah that's fine, I know these aren't your thing, you don't have to come." You say.

"Say what?" You feel him shift to look at you.

"I drag you to enough work functions. I'll let you skip out on this one." You pat his chest lightly.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Eddie snorts turning back to the TV.

"Technically I already did tell you twice." You chuckle.

"Smartass." He pinches your thigh.

"Always." You sit up just to wink at him.

The following day, you are accosted by Dani pretty much as soon as she walks into the office.

"Did you ask him?"

"Ask who, what Dani?" You ask though you know exactly what she's talking about. "Also have you forgotten that the proper way to start a conversation is with a greeting? What happened to hi? What happened to how are you?"

"Hi, how are you? Did you ask your boyfriend about covering the gala?" She says.

"Hi Dani, I'm doin' alright. How are you?" You ask her.

"Y/n!" She huffs.

"Yes Dani I asked. He said he'd talk to his boss. Knowing Eddie, someone will probably be at the gala. It's handled." You finally cave and give her the answers she came for.

"You're the best!" She tells you.

"I know, thanks." You chuckle. You shrug.

The day of the gala is chaos from the minute preparations start. It's not really anything that surprises you and you've been handling everything that comes your way with ease.

"Y/n!" Your coworker Wendy grabs your attention when you're sorting out something with one of the photographers.

"Yes Wendy?" You aks.

"The uh catering staff is here do you know where they're supposed to-"

"They just got here?! They were supposed to be here an hour ago! Who was on that? They should've been checking for- oh never mind! Their tables are over there on that wall and tell them to hurry Wen the event is literally starting." You sigh pointing her in the right direction. The event is just gaining momentum, doors opened about twenty minutes ago and aside from the catering situation that has just been taken care of, as far as you know, everything is precisely as it should be. At least you hope so since you did come here a couple of hours in advance to make sure things were ready. You aren't technically in charge of this event but you are naturally better at organizing chaos and these events tend to be a bit of a frenzy on the day no matter how prepared you are in advance.

Tonight is your company's annual charity gala. Every year the board votes on a cause to raise money for by hosting a huge party. This year's cause is a charity that supports kids getting involved in the arts. There are a bunch of art projects on display, some of which will be up for auction at the end of the evening, but the goal is to shmooze with the community members effectively enough that they want to support the charity. You spend most of these galas working optics; talking to reporters, setting up pictures, and just generally organizing things throughout the night. As part of the company's public relations department events like these are your specialty. Carefully curating the perception of everything that goes on here tonight with the help of the other members of the department here tonight.

You're pleased to say that a couple of hours in, the event is going off without a hitch. Once it's in full swing, you have your hands full giving statements to different press outlets and sending photographers to snap the board of directors with guests of the event. Just as you're preparing the host for his introductory speech, you notice a small crowd gathering by one of the large glass windows overlooking the city.

"What's going on over there?" The host frowns at you.

"I'm- not sure. Probably just some nightlife chaos got people's attention." You shrug but before you can walk up the stage there's a shout from a few of the guests followed by the sound of shattered glass as something crashes through that large window. The room erupts into chaos as red goop shoots out at people. It only takes you a couple of moments to realize the thing currently ruining your gala is Carnage. You didn't meet him or anything last time they faced off, but Eddie gave you enough of a description to come to that conclusion when you spot the bright red tentacles and eyes so like Venom's but different at the same time.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." You huff quietly from where you're crouched behind a curtain with the gala host.

"What is that thing?!" He hisses.

"Doesn't matter. Find the nearest exit and run like hell." You tell him.

"What?! You want me to go out there?! What if it sees me?" He shakes his head. You poke your head out just enough to see Carnage. Weirdly enough he just seems to be picking up people and dropping them on the ground again.

"You ever seen that thing before?" You ask.

"God no!"

"He's looking for something. Unless you think it's you, I'd suggest taking the risk before he starts getting snackish!"

"W-what?!"

"We know you're here! We did our RESEARCH!" The man beside you is practically shaking as Carnage's deep voice rings through the room.

"He's coming this way, you have to move now." You say.

"What about you?"

"He's more likely to notice two of us. I'll be out after you." You're so busy directing the guy you don't realize how close Carnage is to you all until the curtain you're behind is ripped off its bar.

"AHA! THERE YOU ARE!"

"GO! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!" You shout to the guy as Carnage reaches for- you. He's reaching for you, you realize only when one spindly spider-like appendage wraps around your waist.

"How noble of you. We weren't after him- but if you must be the hero-" Carnage easily reaches the scrambling host before he can get to the door and all you can do is shut your eyes tight when Carnage lifts him up. It's only when his screams stop suddenly and something warm drips onto your arm that you're sure is blood. You don't dare to check what Carnage has done, but if you had to guess, he bit his head off; much like Venom does when you or Eddie allows him to. Your eyes only shoot open when Carnage starts to move again, swinging back out the hole he came in through and taking you through the city. You're in the air for quite some time before eventually, Carnage drops you, rather gently for a kidnapper, on the ground inside a dusty building.

"Hello, little thing." Carnage says to you.

"I could have sworn Venom dealt with you already." You cross your arms.

"Almost. I was lucky to escape."

"Unfortunate for the rest of us." You muse.

"Rude!"

"Let me remind you that you did kidnap me so excuse me if I'm not kind." You roll your eyes. "I take it my role is to lure Venom to you? Right?"

"Correct. He cares for you. So he will come."

"Of course, he will. Though, disrupting my work event was an unnecessary scene just to lure him out to- where are we?"

"An old firehouse!"

"Wow you really are a baby." You scoff realizing he's chosen another location where loud noise is common.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing nothing. I presume you have a different host now right? That other guy, the serial killer, died the last time, didn't he?"

"I am bonded to his blood! I can regenerate!"

"I'm sorry- so you regenerated… an entire head for your last host?"

"Yes!"

"That is- very strange." You frown. "Still, this place doesn't hold sentimental value to Cletus so- how will they find you?"

"Oh just call them." Cletus makes an appearance, finally, and rolls his eyes as he makes his request.

"Call them? You want me to call them and lead them to where you plan to kill them?"

"Yes. Or I'll kill you."

"That would be stupid. Killing me won't get you what you want." You scoff.

"CARNAGE! YOU TOOK MY CHOCOLATE DROP! I'M GOING TO RIP YOU TO SHREDS!!"

"Guess we don't need to call him." Carnage says pushing you into the fire engine that's collecting dust in the unused building.

"WAS DYING ONCE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" Venom stomps towards Carnage.

"Father. I'm not that easy to get rid of!"

"EVIDENTLY!" Venom charges at Carnage and the two of them are quickly destroying the old brick firehouse you're occupying. From inside the fire truck you're in, it's hard to tell who's winning for most of the fight. It's all too quick and too fluid the way they're throwing each other around. By the time you've gotten a handle on what's going on between the duo, Carnage has Venom pinned to one of the walls that they haven't totally ruined already. Frantically you turn towards the control panel of the fire engine, you can't imagine it's still fully operational but there's a chance you can find some way to make noise with this thing. You need to give Venom the upper hand somehow.

"V!" You shout and cover your ears for only a moment before pressing as much of your weight as you can into the horn of the truck and hoping for the best. You can't explain the relief that you feel when that horrid loud noise fills the small space and Carnage screeches. You let up on the horn once he stumbles away from Venom, his attention on you now that you've gotten involved.

"You!" Carnage snarls. You lay into the horn again before he can get to you and the sound seems to disrupt him enough to almost completely separate him from Cletus. You let up when Eddie has crept up behind them and Venom takes over to fully rip Carnage from Cletus by force. You didn't think that was possible and it is extremely strange to watch. Venom grabs Cletus with an extra appendage and holds him far in the air as he eats the angry red goop that is Carnage.

"EVEN WORSE THE SECOND TIME." Venom grumbles and you can't help but giggle a little. The noise makes Venom wink at you before turning his attention to Cletus. "THIS TIME STAY DEAD!" Venom says before biting his head off, out of your line of sight. You come out of the fire truck just in time to catch him dropping the body.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Venom runs over to you and lifts you into his arms so you're eye level with him as he looks over you for injuries.

"I'm fine V. He didn't actually hurt me. You got here so quickly." You muse.

"EDDIE WAS WATCHING COVERAGE OF YOUR GALA." Venom explains.

"It was going so well until he crashed it." You pout. "You don't have any other errant children we should know about right Venom?"

"NO. NOT THAT I KNOW OF." Venom shrugs lowering you back to the ground.

"Good because this kidnapping thing is very inconvenient." You say. Eddie chooses that moment to reappear and he quickly wraps his arms around you.

"Y/n, baby, thank fuck you're okay. I am so sorry." He breathes out.

"You're sorry? What for?" You frown as you hug him back.

"If I had just come to the damn gala in the first place-" You pull back and hold Eddie's face in your hands to make sure he hears what you say next.

"No. It wouldn't have changed anything. In fact, it would actually have been worse I think. There were hundreds of people in that building and we were on one of the higher floors. The casualties if you had fought him there would have been so not worth it. This was the best outcome. I'm sure there were several injuries but I think there was only one death besides him so- don't apologize. Especially because there was no way you could've predicted him crashing my event. Don't blame yourself because other than a ruined charity gala and the inconveniences that come with a kidnapping, I've barely got some scrapes. You two did well." You tell him.

"We couldn't have done it without you. The fire horn was a great idea."

"Yeah well, you were going to die. And I didn't have any fire." You shrug. "We should get out of here though, I can't imagine it'll take much longer for authorities to get here in search of the red monster that crashed a charity event." You add.

"True. The party looked beautiful by the way. You know, before Carnage trashed it." Eddie says scooping you into his arms.

"Thank you baby." You kiss his cheek just before Venom appears again to take you all home.

"I WANT A KISS TOO! I DID ALL THE WORK."

"You can have as many kisses as you want V." You say kissing his cheek too as he walks out of the trashed fire station with you in his hold.

"I WANT ALL THE KISSES THEN!" He declares as he swings you both up into the air.

"Once we get home I'll kiss you til my lips fall off if you so wish my love." You giggle.

"NOT THAT MANY! IF THEY FALL OFF I WON'T GET ANY MORE IN THE FUTURE!"

"Okay okay. Reasonable amount of kisses, once we get home. Deal?"

"DEAL!" Venom says before taking off from building to building to get you home. There's no such thing as normal when your boyfriend is sharing his body with an alien you suppose, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

***

[thethingswedotomorrow]

I love the Good Omens 'Night at Crowley's Flat' trope where after stopping the apocalypse in season 1, they go to Crowley's Flat and talk and kiss and fall in love and have a peaceful night, I do.

BUT

What if the night became 'The Night an Angel and a Demon Get Insanely Drunk and Teach Each Other How to Act'

Because honestly

They go to the flat, and ALL they know is they are going to have to swap themselves if they want to survive and finally be free from Heaven and Hell

But they have absolutely NO clue how to pull it off successfully

Sure, they know each other in and out.

Aziraphale has Crowley's eye color committed to memory (and also to paper, since Aziraphale spent 4-5 years in the late 80s trying to find a craft store in London that could help him do the color justice)

Crowley could find his angel in a crowd of millions (and not even just because only one single person in that crowd would be dressed in that ridiculous shade of tartan)

BUT they know they have to truly get this right, down to the exact detail.

So, naturally, they start by promptly opening the closest bottle of scotch that Crowley had available

Crowley was convinced this would be the easiest thing they've ever done

"Only you, Angel, would find a way to worry yourself to death AFTER stopping an apocalypse"

They begin with the easy part, switching corporations and clothing.

It was easy. Until Aziraphale realized he had to actually physically move in the very, very tight pants Crowley prefers.

The first three times he tries walking, he falls face down. And each time, realizes how it's equally hard to get back up again.

Not to mention that Crowley's corporation had learned that after 6000 years, it didn't really need all those vertebrae and bones since he never used them anyways

So now Aziraphale is just laying on the floor in terribly tight pants, very confused on how Crowley has managed all this time

(Crowley is also on the floor, having dropped there laughing after the 2nd attempt)

After they both get up (one much faster than the other) Crowley tries coaching the angel on how to walk like him

Until Crowley realizes he doesn't actually know how he walks, he just sort of wills himself forward and hopes his limbs keep up with him along the way

Eventually, after enough drinks, they settle on a technique called "Just pretend all your limbs are snakes. And you're a snake. Honestly, just as snake-y as you can manage, Angel."

Aziraphale, as difficult as this was for him, figures out that he may have gotten the easy side of this situation here. Crowley very much disagrees.

"Once an Angel, well, definitely not always an Angel, but close enough right?"

He very quickly realizes he may be wrong when Aziraphale asks Crowley to copy his walk

"Dear Lord Crowley, it cannot be that hard. You simply have to walk in a straight line"

It was indeed that hard.

Crowley has all his vertebrae now, but no knowledge of how they should be used

He tries to hold his hands behind his back and march forward, walking in what he thinks is probably, on some plane of reality, maybe a straight line

He's convinced that he's the perfect image of a stereotypical angel, head held high, an air of 'holier than thou' surrounding him

When Crowley asks Aziraphale, he only says, "Well, I suppose it will have to do for now."

Internally, Aziraphale thinks of the fact that Crowley looked identical to a bumbling penguin walking on ice.

When Crowly sits down, very pleased with himself for an impeccable performance ("As always, Angel. I've still got it." Aziraphale uncaps the vodka and drinks straight from the bottle, just staring into the distance.

He has just realized that their existence hinges on whether Crowley can figure out how to sit on a chair like a proper being with appendages and a spine.

And the odds are not in their favor, if they way the demon is sprawled out on the couch (reminding Aziraphale suddenly of a very well-done noodle, and suddenly he's starting to wonder if humans had the right idea with stress eating) is any indication

Crowley announces that he refuses to utter the words tickety boo, even if faced with destruction

"Honestly I think I'd rather have the holy water at that point" "Crowley." "I swear you just make sounds up sometimes, those aren't even real words"

4 bottles (and a very large order of takeout) later, they've got the act down well enough that it's starting to weird Crowley out

"Angel, seriously, enough with the nose. When have I ever done that with my nose? Exactly zero amount of times. I'm not a rabbit"

2 bottles later and Aziraphale has miracled Harry the Rabbit into the flat for a reason they can't quite remember

But they've got music playing from somewhere in the corner, and plenty of drinks, and the night goes on into the morning, and then they're sobering up and marching out for the most dramatic acting of their lives

And the world hasn't ended yet, so they'll probably be fine. Probably.

[chlorinecake]

「 𓍯𓂃 I KISSED HER FOREHEAD AND NOW SHE'S 𝒢IVING ME CRYSTALS ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 」

𝐢𝐞. super Y2K crush scenarios with 𝐍𝑒𝕨 𝐉𝚎𝐚𝕟s

── ✰⋆⁺ 𓊆ྀི . . path to bookshelf ◍ 𓊇ྀི 🔮 虹 . . . 𝔸ᶰĎ 𝒴𝐨𝕌 ?. . .

❖︎ pa𝓲ring .ᐟ 뉴진스 x female!reader

❖ g𝓮nre .ᐟ fluff, comfort, wlw, friends to lovers

❖ 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽 count .ᐟ 𝟏,𝟎𝟒𝟏 total ✩ ✩ ✩

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐈 ── ❝ You smell pretty today... ❞

“You too!” You blurted out, right before realizing you'd gotten your words mixed up, “Wait- I meant to say you look pretty, but... I guess I mean both? Gosh, does that even make sense?”

A tiny smile spread across Minji's features at your adorable timidness, her boot-clad feet taking a few steps towards you before pulling you close, gracing your frame with a tender hug, “It makes perfect sense, weirdo… thanks...”

Her voice was calm and soothing as usual, despite the way it made butterflies swarm in the spot where your heart should be. You couldn't really explain it, but something about Minji's energy always had a way of making you look and feel like a lovesick geek by time you got a proper sentence out—

“So,” she began again, breaking from the embrace and looking you straight in the eye, her hands resting at your shoulders, “when were you gonna tell me about this little crush you have on me?”

Your eyes widened like you had seen a ghost, a nervous chuckle slipping past your lips as she tilted her head at you, just as you muttered a distracting, “Right after I told you which Victoria's Secret fragrance I'm wearing?”

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐌 ── ❝ Crystals? As a gesture?... ❞

“Pfft, of course!” Hanni replied matter-of-factly, “just like how you gave me coins for that gum-ball machine we passed earlier… but who's keeping track of all that stuff anyways?”

“You, apparently...,” you said as a gentle laugh escaped your lips at her quirky reply, “but touché, Hanni Pham... what should I do with these?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, cupping your right palm in her own as the colorful stones glittered beneath the mall’s sunroof, “you can put them under your pillow at night!... o-or maybe even stash them in your purse so you can think about me wherever you go!”

“As if I'd need a crystal’s assistant with that,” you teased, ruffling her hair slightly with your free hand. “These are cool, though,” you went on, heart warming at both the feeling of your hand in hers and at the unique gift, “very sweet of you...”

“Eh, I tryyyy,” she replied smugly, right before blowing a tiny pink bubble with the gum she chewed, only to spit the leftover candy into a napkin and ask, “wanna close your eyes and guess what flavor you taste on me?...”

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑���𝐇 ── ❝ I like your sweater… ❞

“Oh, this old thing?” Danielle asked with her warm Australian accent, taking the colorful sweater’s hem in her fingers to examine it's loose threads, “My nana knit this for me like... forever ago...”

“Well it's cool to see she was a step ahead of fashion trends back then,” you smiled, letting your hand brush over the soft yarn of her sleeve... That's when a certain question arose in your head:

“Random, but by chance, are you any good with using chopsticks?” You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“Oh, for sure! I’m basically a pro at it,” she boasted, flipping her curly locks in a cartoonish manner.

“Sweet! I have two coupons for two different places. One for a craft store, and another for a sushi bar… only thing is that they both expire tomorrow,” You went on, hoping that she'd catch your drift without you having to state any specifics...

“Oh? Well it'd be a total bummer to let them go to waste,” she shrugged, hooking her arm in yours before tugging you along with her, “we better get going quick before they run out of sashimi… or yellow yarn…”

𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 ── ❝ Can I come in please...? ❞

You heard a gentle voice call from behind your bedroom door, face buried into the largest pillow you could find given the sob-fest you had earlier…

“The door’s unlocked,” you sniffled, turning over on your bed to face her as she peaked from behind the door, her bright smile not even fading at the sight of you.

“I brought some heartwarming treats and DVD’s!” She began, voice just as pleasant as it always was. Haerin made her way to sit beside you on the bed, opening one of your favorite candy bars and handing it to you.

“How’d y’know I was upset?” You asked before taking a bite of the candy, chuckling a bit at the way she watched you so intently while doing so.

“I didn’t,” she went on plainly, “… I already wanted to surprise you today and just got lucky that it ended up being at a time where you needed it most…”

“Awww,” you pouted, dropping the candy bar to pull her into a hug, “you’re literally the best friend I could ask for, Haerin… thank you for coming to see me…”

“Of course,” she whispered, mind lingering on the word friend for a moment, even though she was certain you meant something a little more than that…

“So,” she began again, breaking from the contact and reaching for the TV remote, “Wanna rewatch Mean Girls or Clueless first?”

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐈𝐍 ── ❝ Can I touch your hair? ❞

You asked the question for one reason: You were bored out of your mind from waiting at the bus stop, and playing with Hyein’s hair seemed like a fun way to pass the time…

“Oh, sure!” She chirped, immediately straightening her posture on the park bench as you scooted closer to where she sat, taking her wavy locks into your grasp.

Hyein’s round eyes wandered to the sparkly pink Juicy Couture purse you wore over your shoulder, compelling her to ask, “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh- just some barrette’s and hair clips I got from Claire’s yesterday,” you replied, pausing to click open your purse and show her the different kinds, “Thought you might be interested in some extra bling, so…”

“You know me far too well then, ____,” she smiled, scanning each package with her eyes before suggesting that you decide which hair-clip style she would wear, and vice versa.

You let out a simple “Okay” at her offer, reaching for the pack of silver shooting stars for her hair while she held the pack of butterfly clips beside your face, a satisfied look spreading across her features.

“These are gonna look gorgeous on you,” Hyein smiled, right before opening the pack of butterflies clips and popping a few different colored ones in her palm, “This is too fun already, hehe… I can decorate your hair first, right?…”

ʚ 𝐀𝒰𝐓ᕼ𝕆𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝕆T𝐸: I decided to explore the wlw genre for a change, and I have no one other than @jwanniie to thank for inspiring me to experiment on my platform in such a way through her works... I've always wanted to write for my fav GG's just like how I write for my fav BG's, but simply never found the courage to until now ~ Hopefully you guys enjoyed what I came up with! ɞ

❖ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr -> if GG content isn’t your thing, pls lmk and I’ll refrain from tagging you in such posts moving forward :3

[zweiginator]

ok ok good cuz i am NOT done talking about college!artrick, it's literally my favorite version of them atm. (potential tw: dubcon and drugs 😵‍💫)

i need to be so fucked up/out that i'm unable to do anything, just totally limp. idgaf if it's from like overstimulation, weed, too many cocktails, or just like being fucked so good my brain turns off. completely helpless and at their mercy, y'know. need to have art and pat grab my jaw and nod my head for me, i'm too weak to do it by myself. :(((( but it's okey, they know what i want, they know what's right for me 😵‍💫

maybe it's them teaching me how to smoke weed and i just get waaaaaay too high. i was havign a hard time learning how to do the inhale properly, and they insist on repeating it until i get it right, and suddenly it's just too much too fast. and they just have to take care of me!!!!

and poor baby, my little pussy is so wet, she's crying for attention :((( they should help her shouldn't they, we wouldn't want her to cry? look at her so sad and lonely, bet she feels so empty doesn't she baby? she just wants some attention, huh? i'm too gone to properly give them an answer, but they know what i want, theyll nod my head for me :((((( RRRRAAAAAHHHHHH

-🐞

cw: noncon stuff, somno stuff, drug usage

college!artrick who quickly became your best friends. it was unconventional, at first. art had hit on you at the run-down bar that had since closed. and patrick, being the good samaritan and even better wing man slash best friend that he was — told you to go for it. to ditch your stupid asshole boyfriend that he mentioned hadn’t even bought you a drink. to fuck art.

“it’s truly harmless.” and your boyfriend was a douchebag. he hadn’t bought you a single drink but was nursing on his sixth beer. watching your empty hands and then turning to his equally awful friends to loudly ogle women that would never give them a second look.

art was sheepish and didn’t look at you. but obviously, patrick had gotten the idea of art wanting you from somewhere. so you squeezed in between them and nudged art’s shoulder and tried to get him to come out of his shell.

“he’s weird when he smokes weed.” patrick whispered in your ear and smoking a joint sounded way fucking better than swiveling on an unoiled barstool off campus in uncomfortable heels.

“do you have some?”

art looked high and he smiled at you for the first time since you met them. he pulled a little baggy from his jeans and nodded his head towards the door.

“can we go to your place?” patrick asked. he explained how he was visiting, how art was on the tennis team and his roommates slash teammates—one of which who was the coach’s son—were major fucking snitches. so it really had to be at your place.

you rolled your eyes and agreed that they could come over.

and they sat on the balcony all night with you. forty three missed calls from your boyfriend didn’t cajole you from the trance you were in with them. of course, they were hot. and the humidity was suffocating even past midnight. so of course, their shirts hung over the railing of your balcony as the three of you passed a joint around, leaning forward in plastic green lawn chairs, splintered and uncomfortable on your asses.

your high was heady, and patrick was feeling bold.

“if you’re not gonna make a move then i will.”

so patrick kissed you. it was a parched and awkward kiss at first; you both were dizzy from too much weed, your mouths awfully dry. but then art joined and his kisses were sloppy, his tongue prodding into the corner of your mouth until you grabbed his hair and kissed him proper. patrick sat back and reveled in his creation, swigging a beer he stole from the fridge.

and your relationship with both of them just sort of remained stagnant.

you had long since dumped your boyfriend after he told you he fucked a blond sorority girl that night you had met the boys. you just shrugged and told him it was whatever—you made out with two tennis players anyway.

and people around campus had come up with filthy rumors and lies. patrick didn’t live in town. people conjured up fantasies about patrick being a prostitute. that art was a goody two shoes and wouldn’t fuck you so he paid someone else to.

it got so tiring that art had confronted his team and coach about it, after it had gotten to them. said his relationship with you was none of their business, but slammed down an old photo of him and patrick when they were kids at the tennis academy, their cheeks plump and red from the sun, a racket in each of their grasps.

it wasn’t until one friday night that everything between the three of you changed. the ticking time bomb’s fuse had finally burnt to its end. patrick was back in town for the weekend and art was excited about it. he hadn’t been there since that fateful first weekend.

your roommates were out of town, too. so it was perfect. art picked patrick up from the airport and brought him to your place. you found it odd that the first place they would go was to your apartment. but you let them in nonetheless.

“what is your plan for the night?” you asked.

art took a shitty bong out of his backpack and a bag of weed.

“just smoking? there’s nothing else you wanna do?”

the boys shook their heads like there was some ulterior motive controlling their movements.

“okay, alright.”

so you smoked. and before you had hung out with art and patrick that one night, you really hadn’t smoked all that much before. you saw art’s bloodshot eyes as a way out of the shitty bar with your boring boyfriend and you took it. you had coughed your way through the joint last time—but the bong was intimidating.

“how do you use it?” you looked at the stem of it; it was nasty and you had already given art shit for it.

“what do you mean? i thought you were a huge stoner chick?” patrick said, between coughs.

“i never said that. i dabble but pretty infrequently.”

you were sat in between them and both their sets of eyes flickered from the expanse of your neck, to your eyes, down to your lips again. a cycle of ogling you that you dismissed. and as you grabbed the bong they shook their head.

“that’s gonna make you cough like a bitch.” art warned.

“probably enough to make you nauseous.” patrick was seemingly parroting every point art was offering in favor of not using the bong.

“then what do i do?”

they said they could help you by shotgunning it into your mouth. and you had somewhat heard of that but you said that would be okay. you watched patrick light up while art sucked the smoke into his lungs. he grabbed the back of your head to pull you in and then the smoke was in your mouth.

“inhale it.”

and you did what he said, but you felt yourself stumbling over your sandals as you mounted him, still sat in the wobbly lawn chairs that could barely support the two of you.

art grabbed your waist and pulled you in by your belt loops. he was sunken in eyes, puffy and half-shut. he was chapped lips, which you licked for him. he was shoving his tongue into your mouth and you were grabbing his jaw to maneuver him how you wanted him and patrick just watched.

“your turn.” you turned to patrick, and art reached for you to stay. but then patrick took a hit with art’s kind help. and he repeated everything art did. grabbed you and pulled you to him. pushed the dank smoke into your mouth and ordered you to breathe it in.

you were so high and dizzy. outside of your body. you kissed patrick too, clawing at his chest and grinding yourself down on his very obvious erection. you were certain people could see you if your neighbors were out on their own balconies.

so you stumbled inside and into your room. patrick slammed the door and didn’t bother locking because it didn’t matter. art was on his knees, taking your sandals off. you could barely keep your eyes open but you could feel your cunt weeping with arousal. you wanted them so bad and you mumbled that as you fell on your back onto your bed.

art looked at patrick. patrick looked at art.

“what’d you say, sweet girl?” patrick stroked your cheek and pushed his thumb into your mouth. you sucked it, hallowing your cheeks.

“i want you guys.” you mumbled it softly, but that was enough for art, still on his knees, to yank your shorts down your legs.

you flipped onto your stomach and the boys looked at how your ass moved, still in your little pink panties. art kissed your lower back, your plump ass cheek. it was patrick’s turn to undress you, so he shimmied your panties down your legs and they stared at your cunt.

glistening, warm, inviting. patrick spread your legs further and you moaned. let them.

“fucking shit.” art ran his thumb through your folds. “she’s so fucking wet.”

patrick did it himself, confirming art’s conclusion.

art petted your hair. “your little pussy’s so wet.”

“i know.” you nestled your head further into the pillow.

“i bet she wants to be filled up.” patrick offered.

you nodded. it was faint, but a nod.

patrick hurried to pull his jeans down, letting his cock spring out.

but now your body was limp as you fell asleep. drool pooled onto your pillow and patrick rocked against your cunt.

“wake up pretty girl.” art shook your shoulders and you moaned.

"hm?" you giggled and art kissed you hard.

"do you want us to fuck you? fill your little pussy? she looks like she really wants it." art cooed in your ear.

"mm. yes."

patrick pulled your hips up and pushed into your cunt, using the flesh of your ass as leverage as his thrusts got harder and deeper. your body rocked forward and soft mewls and whimpers left your mouth. but god, you were so, so sleepy. just felt heavy from the weed. from the weight of patrick on top of you as he reached around to rub your clit.

you clenched around patrick.

“that feel good?” patrick groaned against your ear and you let out a tiny, almost indiscernible whimper. patrick grabbed your jaw, nodded for you.

“fuck—baby—“ his thrusts got sloppier and art was still hard.

so he pushed his boxers down and stroked his cock. up and down. up and down. you were dozing in and out of sleep; they could tell when you came to due to your sweet, saccharine moans that were pushed out of you when patrick’s cock was in you, to the hilt.

“fuck you make me so hard.” art rubbed the head of his cock against your lips. so plush. drool running out from between them. his precum leaked on your mouth and he used it as lubricant to rub himself all over your lips, your cheeks, your face.

“artie-“ you whimpered and stuck your tongue out. you still could barely open your eyes; they felt glued shut. would be easier to keep them shut.

art held the back of your head and fucked his cock into your mouth slowly.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

you sputtered around him and your eyes watered as art jerked himself into your mouth, using you. but your sounds of contentedness fueled them. your poor, limp body so high and outside of yourself. your best friends wouldn’t want you to be so empty, so alone like this.

patrick came on your back and art on your face and then they were spent and all three of you fell asleep, after they wiped you clean.

[1d1195]

Sun-Kissed I

Here is a fluffy/smutty little piece of love on the beach. It’s ~9k words. It’s a love at first sight kind of thing I know it’s kind of ridiculous for them to be falling in love so fast but it’s my story and I’m sticking with it. Also, sorry that I’m really into sunflowers right now. Sunflower Vol. 6 has been on my mind lately so that’s gonna make an appearance for the third time as of late. I don’t know if anyone else cares about all my little easter eggs regarding real life Harry in my writing but I’m really pretty proud of the news one I put in here. I'm sorry they're both teachers again I needed them to have summer's off to make this work. Their careers are not a major part of the story.

Warnings: There’s some pretty 18+ things happening here. Masturbating, public sex (kinda), thigh riding, etc. If you’re not into this, I wouldn’t read it. It's all fluff otherwise. There won't be a bit of angst.

I've been trying to write this for over a year and finally came pouring out. Unfortunately, there will be a second part next Thursday only because I thought it was getting too long. So it does end a little abruptly. Hope you enjoy anyway :)

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

Harry didn’t grow up near a beach so he thought this would be great way to cash in on his vacation time over the summer. Sitting at the beach, reading a book, and dipping his toes in the water when it got too hot. His mum knew someone who knew someone who gave him a great deal on the summer rental, and he was beyond excited to sit and relax for the first time in years.

Being an earlier riser had its advantages. For one, he got the pick of where to set up his summer getaway on the beach. He brought a cooler, a chair, and a few towels along with a book or two to spend the day. Through his sunglasses, he faced the direction of the sunshine. He hadn’t had a proper summer holiday since he was young and now that he was busy teaching and had summer’s off, he was elated to have some time to himself.

Once he settled his belongings, he turned on a summer playlist he’d been working on for a while. He didn’t turn it up loud—he would never want to bother anyone that may join him on the beach—but it was loud enough to hear and not interrupt his imagination while reading.

It was utterly peaceful.

Apparently, Harry was unaware of just how truly peaceful the beach could be.

“Hey,” a voice said softly, it was sweet. A gentle shake on the arm, her skin was cool to the touch. His eyes blinked open unsurely. He realized he fell asleep and didn’t even get through the first page of his book. “Hi,” she whispered with a gentle smile. “You’re going to start burning,” she explained handing over a bottle of sunscreen to his hands while Harry tried to wake himself up. “And your book is in the sand,” she said grabbing it before the spine broke from all the grains of the beach ruining the binding.

“Oh,” he shook his head desperate for his brain to catch up to his surroundings. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“No problem!” She chirped heading back to the chair that was a few meters in front of him. “I already burned once this summer and it was miserable. Just don’t want you to suffer the same fate.”

He pushed open the bottle and started rubbing on the sunscreen. It felt like he was going to have a slight burn already. The relief of the lotion on his skin made him wary. “Ah, guess...I should probably leave,” he chuckled. “Try again tomorrow.”

“Oh...if you want to stay, I have an umbrella,” she said cheerfully. “S’a nice day, just give me a minute to set up,” she smiled and gave her name to Harry.

Harry had hardly gotten a good look at her with a sleepy set of eyes a bit wiped by the sun. His brain was foggy with the impromptu nap. This small little town he was staying in had the vibe that someone like her would help a stranger. Everyone had been so nice in the grocery store and when Harry went for his run yesterday, people said hello and commented on how nice the evening was. It was an adorable little town and Harry was already dreading having to leave in two weeks’ time.

“Well, thank you. M’Harry,” he said quietly while he finished rubbing the lotion over his body. He watched her work, his mind less foggy. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was a little over two hours since he arrived. It wasn’t too hot outside still, so his burn would be minor if he got one at all. With the addition of a blanket and the umbrella, it was almost a mirror image of Harry’s little set up. A chair, a cooler, and a couple towels.

She had a ponytail pulled through a baseball cap and she wore a button down, rolled to the elbows. The top few buttons were open revealing a deep blue bathing suit top, that scooped low enough to show off...

Harry had to be careful, or he was going to be sporting a prominent erection on a beach with a ton of families. He moved his gaze down past where he really wanted to look. The shirt came down to just above her knee and he saw a pair of flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket she had laid out in front of her stuff. “Nice day, huh?” She smiled as she twirled the umbrella stand into the sand.

“Tits—it’s really nice,” Harry said quickly stammering through his recovery.

Smooth.

She either didn’t notice his faux pas or didn’t care because she continued about her business. “Have you been here long?” She asked.

“Just arrived yesterday. Did some grocery shopping. Went for a jog.”

“Oh, how nice,” she had this infectious smile. Harry felt so happy just being around her. Or maybe it was the beautiful weather and the prettiest beach he had seen in years.

Or maybe it was her curvy figure that was making him lightheaded with happiness.

She pulled the shirt off finally, and Harry thought he might seriously need to leave. Head back for his little beach cottage to take care of blood rushing to his groin. She’s gorgeous. He thought to himself. “How ‘bout you?” He cleared his throat.

“I grew up here...and live here in the summer.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Here?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded. “It’s my favorite place on earth,” she explained.

“I can see why,” he nodded in appreciation. “Do you have any suggestions for while m’here?”

She nodded. “Plenty—how long are you here for?”

“Two weeks.”

“How lovely...let’s see...you’re at the beach—that’s most important in my opinion. I think if you stay here most of the time, you’ll have a successful vacation. There’s a place about twenty minutes from here where you can go clam digging if you like clams—I don’t really like them, but it’s fun to go. Paddleboarding on the river is also a really big thing. There’s this restaurant that everyone talks about. If you want, I know someone who works there, I could get you in. You’ll need a sweatshirt from the most touristy of tourist shops, but don’t go on a rainy day—everyone will be there. You’ll have to see the sunrise and the sunset. I think there’s a full moon too, so you’ll definitely want to see that over the ocean. I personally recommend ice cream and mini golf too. If you have time, you should also check out the nearby island. Even though this place is beautiful the island is like being in another country. It’s stunningly beautiful,” throughout her speech she continued working on the umbrella stand, putting the actual umbrella into place and tilting it back to create more shade.

Harry thought it would be really forward of him to invite her on all those adventures. Especially when someone as beautiful as she was surely had a significant other. Add in the fact he met her less than ten minutes ago; he would have seemed insane. “Wow, sounds like a packed schedule.”

She laughed and Harry swore he had never heard a sound as beautiful. She was still organizing her items and she gestured under the umbrella for Harry to move his stuff. “I’m really passionate about this place I forget people want to relax.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “You’re right t’be passionate. M’sure you’re right; I’ll make every effort t’do it all,” he promised and began moving his stuff below her umbrella. “Everyone is so nice here,” he told her. “Yourself included.”

“Why thank you,” she smiled sweetly and settled into her beach chair finally, facing the sun. He swore that someone this stunning couldn’t be real. She looked like a beach goddess—sun-kissed hair and skin. “What are you reading?” She asked, turning her head toward him covering the side of her face to keep the sun out of her eyes even though she wore sunglasses too.

He couldn’t even remember why he picked the book up. “Er...I fell asleep before finishing the first page,” he admitted shyly. She giggled.

“The beach does that, I swear. Something about total relaxation and the warm sun. I’m like a cat. Once I lay on my stomach, I’m out like a light.”

“Do you read?”

She nodded. “Have to; I’m a middle school teacher.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled. “I teach secondary.”

“No way!”

So, for the whole morning, Harry forgot about his book. Forgot about his playlist that was still going—except for anytime she asked what song was playing. They talked for literally three hours straight never once a lull in the conversation. Work, books, the beach, music, and anything they thought of. He told her about his family coming to visit for the weekend and she told him about her family who didn’t love this place as much as she did who would probably not visit—even if they missed her and loved her with everything in them.

At lunch they finally quieted their conversation to eat and watch the water. “I don’t see a burn,” she told him glancing over his face and skin as she finished her sandwich. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I’d be a proper crisp by now.”

She held the sunscreen out to him again. “I know this is a little weird, would you mind getting my upper back?” She asked.

Touch her? Harry didn’t have to be asked twice. Harry made sure to spray every bit of her skin. He didn’t want to be the reason she burned. As soft and beautiful as her skin was, Harry was glad she only asked to rub her back and shoulders. If he had to do her legs or any other part of her body, he definitely would have passed out.

She spread herself out on her blanket. Book near her face. “I’m so going to fall asleep,” she yawned. “Will you wake me if I start to burn?” She asked.

Harry nodded wordlessly and brought his book up toward his face. “Sure, love,” he murmured. Hopefully not showing how smitten he was with her already.

*

Harry might have wormed his way into her heart as her favorite person ever. It was so unlike her to wake a total stranger from a nap. But he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t imagine letting him roast in the sun all morning and ruining his vacation. It was even more unlike her to invite him to sit with her.

She liked to believe she was a kind soul—most everyone told her that she was, so it wasn’t unnatural for her to invite him to hang out with her. But if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry was a teacher, it could have been a lot more dicey.

It was so easy to talk to Harry. The entire morning was so much better than she ever expected just by being in his presence or chatting with him. Other than her reading-nap—where Harry woke her up after an hour so she could reapply another layer of sunscreen—they talked literally the whole day. Harry didn’t mind putting sunscreen on her and she returned the favor when they switched positions so Harry could get some on his back.

Touching him might be her new favorite pastime.

She left a bit before Harry wanting to go for a walk and shower before eating dinner and reading a bit on her porch. Plus, she had to pace herself if she was going to last at the beach all summer. After her shower, she put on an oversized shirt like she wore to the beach and a pair of shorts. It looked like she wasn’t wearing pants but didn’t mind. The sun finally crested the top of her cottage, so she was no longer baking in the sun and made the porch the loveliest little place to read and enjoy the evening. She had a bowl of watermelon chunks beside her, and sunglasses perched on her nose.

Growing up she never loved summer all that much. Of course, she loved the beach and the time off from school, but she started working part time when she was fourteen and summer never had the same feeling as it did when she was young until she started teaching. Now she would tutor virtually some nights throughout the summer—especially for college students taking summer courses. But mostly she spent her time here in the little beach cottage her grandma had specifically named to her in her will after she saw how much she cared for it—especially since she was the only one in her family who had summers off and still cared about this little town. Once her grandma passed away, no one really felt the need to stay—her parents sold the home she grew up in. It wasn’t brokenly tragic that her grandma died—she was old, and these things happened. Besides, she felt by being in the little town she grew up in and living in the cottage left to her was enough to live her summers in honor of her grandmother.

Her mother technically owned the other cottage her grandmother had and while her mom really wanted to sell it, she insisted she would take care of it while she was here and tend to any renters.

Which is why her mother texted her at least once a week about the renter at the cottage just three houses down the road. Our renter said there’s only one towel. Any ideas?

She gasped wondering how it slipped her mind to take the towels out of the dryer and fold them neatly into the bathroom linen closet. On it. She responded and practically ran down the road. She knocked on the door to her second home away from home and waited for the person on the other side to answer. While waiting she noticed the little sign below the main window was crooked—fell off the hook again in the ocean wind. She needed to remember to bring a pair of pliers back to close the loop the next time she came over.

The two cottages were almost identical. Except this door was a sea blue and hers was a sea green. They were little wooden cottages, shingled top to bottom. Just two windows at the front of the house, two on the back, and one on each side. There were two skylights in the roof allowing for lots of natural light. Each home had two small bedrooms, a bathroom, a spacious sitting area and full kitchen. They were wall to wall hardwood floors even though her Grandma in the 70s tried very hard to convince everyone it needed carpeting. But try vacuuming sand out of a beach cottage all the time. Due to space behind the home, hers had a little patio but this one was fitted with a little patio and an outdoor shower.

The blue door opened while she was still putting the wood block that read Sea View back in it’s place. “Uh...hello?” He asked. She turned to find Harry, surprise all across his face, to see the girl he met earlier outside his rental.

Of course it was Harry. “Oh, how funny!” She chirped excited to see the gorgeous man from the beach once more—her plan right now was to not-so-casually run into him at the beach again the next day. “I should have asked where you were renting!”

He smirked. “Hi love,” he said sweetly, confused that she was here. “Uh...what are you doing here?”

“My family owns this cottage,” she explained. “Mom texted me that you don’t have towels? That’s my fault. Left them in the dryer when I was cleaning on turnover day. I’ll fold them now,” she said and marched herself inside and maneuvered through the familiar room with ease.

“Oh,” Harry said. “S’okay, love. I didn’t mean t’bother you—I would have found them eventually—”

“Absolutely not, it’s your vacation! You deserve clean towels and not have to worry about looking for things,” she was already piling the fluffy array of sea blue and green towels out of the dryer and began folding them expertly. “I’m going to leave you my number so if you need anything you can just ask me. I always tell her to just give them my number, but she worries about weirdos taking advantage of me,” she rolled her eyes.

What would possess me to say that to Harry?

He smiled as he watched her flurry of activity. Her rambling little monologue. She was definitely scaring him. It occurred to her at that moment she didn’t even wait to be invited into his space. Just strode right in. “Glad m’not a weirdo. I agree with y’mum. Think I would like her,” he nodded firmly.

She felt her face warm, and she hoped the tan hid the blush as much as possible. Harry’s nose and cheeks looked a bit red—like he caught a bit of a cold. The rest of his body was covered by a simple pair of jogging shorts and a simple t-shirt so she couldn’t see if he burned and also didn’t want to be caught staring at him—especially thinking about the abs he had on display under the litany of tattoos she saw earlier at the beach. “Well, I will fold these and get out of your hair,” she said focusing on the towels. But her brain glitched out once more. “Oh, do you like surfing?” She asked.

He chuckled leaning against the frame of the door leading to this utility room. “Only been once with a group of m’friends. S’not m’cup of tea. M’not very good.”

“Oh, okay. I just want to make sure I recommend everything you might like.”

He was smirking at her like she was a bit crazy—and she was—but Harry wasn’t helping. Without sunglasses she saw he had green eyes. Green. She was done before this even started. Once all the towels were folded, she made herself at home once more, hurrying to the bathroom to put all the towels in place. The bathroom smelled like men’s cologne: sandalwood and sage. Jesus Christ it’s like he was built in a lab for me.

Harry followed her as she put the towels away in an alternating pattern. “Thank you,” he said. “Y’really didn’t need t’do all that.”

“You’re the guest. You paid to get this kind of service,” she reminded him. “I’m also...only three houses down if you need something as well. It’s got a sign like yours below the window Sun-Kissed Cabana. My grandma named them.”

He nodded and stared at her for a few moments. She had only known Harry for all of five hours, but she could swear she knew his thoughts. He probably did think she was a bit crazy. “Do...do y’have plans for dinner?”

She felt her heart flutter. She was going to order her favorite pesto pasta dish from a local place that practically recognized her voice when she called. “Uh...no.”

“Would y’like t’go out with me in ‘bout an hour?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

*

She was finishing up her makeup when her phone vibrated with a second message from Harry. The first one was to alert her who was messaging Hiii, it’s Harry Xx. Followed by: Does this place have a fancy dress code?

No, no. Nothing fancy at all! They’ve def got a beach bar vibe.

Cool :) I’m ready when you are.

Shit. She wanted to curl her hair a bit and look extra nice but maybe that would have looked like she was trying too hard after she just got through telling him it wasn’t a fancy place. She had on a maxi dress. Black top nothing revealing and then the skirt pattern had sunflowers all over it. She would have to forgo the curls and instead pushed the front of her hair back with a headband. Just need like five more minutes.

I’m in no rush, love. Please take your time Xx.

She thought she was going to melt. Fortunately, her tanned skin hid most of the imperfections of her face. She also preferred maxi dresses because it hid the thickness of her thighs and more imperfections like bumps from shaving and bruises from whacking herself on her beach chair. She thought the style she chose also perfectly accentuated the curve of her waist. While it didn’t show off her cleavage—it was her personal belief her boobs were one of her better assets—she thought after a day at the beach with them on full display due to her bathing suit, dinner might be a little gentler without them in Harry’s face the whole time.

With a spritz of her perfume and gathering all her necessary belongings into her purse, slid on her favorite pair of sandals with gold brushed embellishments, and headed outside. There wasn’t really a discussion of how they would get there, but she decided to walk down the road back to Sea View. Harry was crouched by the sign, pliers in hand closing the very loop she said she would. “Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said hurriedly feeling like a terrible hostess.

He turned and smiled at her. “No worries, love. S’easy. Jus’ found some pliers in the utility closet.”

“Well, thank you,” she murmured gratefully. Harry stood, putting the pliers just inside the doorway before locking it with the passcode. He turned to her.

“Is this place walking distance, or should I drive us?” He asked. His hair was fluffed in these beautiful chocolate waves that of course reminded her of the beach but made her want to bury her hands in it and kiss his perfect face until she was out of breath.

“Uh,” she didn’t think she wanted to walk in a dress, but maybe that was the experience of this vacation for him. Harry looked utterly comfortable but perfect (naturally) in a pair of navy-blue khaki shorts and grey short sleeve button down. The lack of sleeves showed off those tattoos that she was continuously falling for. On his feet he wore a pair of light grey sneakers. “We can walk, but it might take me a while in a dress and sandals.”

“Oh shit, of course. What m’I saying? Y’can’t walk in a pretty dress like that,” he said hurrying to the car and opening the passenger side. “After you, love. Jus’ need t’tell me the directions,” he smiled at her.

All the books she had brought to her summer vacation had a romantic flare to them. Her only thought was there should be a book written about this very day—meeting Harry at the beach and going on a date with him. It was impractical and a bit flighty of her to be so taken with him already.

But there was no way she could help it when he got in the driver’s seat, smiled at her with those dreamy dimples and his eyes twinkled at her behind those pretty lashes of his. “Y’look gorgeous, love.”

*

It was effortless how much he enjoyed her company. The idea that it was only his first full day and he had already had a good beach day and another good jog under his belt. The post-beach-and-jog shower was cold-watered but steamy as he thought of the pretty girl in her pretty bathing suit. He imagined her smile, the gentle curve of her lips as he wrapped his hand around his cock as the water cooled off his sweaty and warm skin for several minutes until he was finally relieved of seeing her...assets at the beach.

Seeing her immediately after he inquired about the lack of towels as soon as he had shorts on was like a dream. Her agreeing to dinner with a beautiful girl was not what he expected when he booked this trip six months ago. Only one day in and this was the best vacation he had ever been on.

They arrived at the restaurant and after searching through the menu in silence, they placed drinks and an appetizer to share.

Did he mention how effortless this all was? The conversation was once more not a moment of dullness. She was funny, beautiful, kind, and it seemed that everyone at the restaurant knew her at least a little bit. “Our sun-kissed angel is here!” A man shouted from across the patio where they were seated. Everyone turned to follow the gaze of the man and Harry smirked instead of being jealous because he was right. She was an angel. A tanned, lovely, gorgeous angel.

She rolled her eyes. “Harry, this is my friend Louis. I used to work here in the summer.”

“Before she went off an got a real job, like a traitor.”

Harry was fascinated by her, simply put. He wanted to spend forever at dinner with her. Chatting with her. Looking at her beautiful face. Envying how the sun got to kiss her, and he didn’t.

*

“Okay, well...we can’t not get ice cream,” she said knowingly.

“You just told the waiter you were too full for dessert,” he chuckled at her.

“You don’t get dessert at a restaurant when there are literally seven different ice cream shops within spitting distance,” she rolled her eyes. “Summer is for ice cream. If we hurry, we can see a sunset too.”

“Y’sure know how t’get the most out of a summer day.”

She frowned. “Oh...I’m sorry. I forget that you only have two weeks. We don’t have to. We can head back,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, not at all, love. S’a great idea,” he reached out across the console and rested his hand on her thigh near her knee. With the long dress covering her legs, it wasn’t terribly inappropriate, but it was so instinctive to reach out and touch her he felt he made a mistake when she was suddenly speechless. Unable to tell Harry where to go to get her precious ice cream. “Er...sorry,” he said pulling his hand back to rest on the gearshift between them. “Should have asked,” he felt his face warm in embarrassment.

“N-no, it’s okay,” she nodded quickly. Her voice was breathy as she stammered. “I was...” She shook her head. “You can touch me—I mean,” she put a hand over her face in embarrassment at the encouragement she just gave him. Harry decided to quickly put her out of her misery—he did say tits after looking at her for thirty seconds this morning, even if she didn’t hear it. He gave her leg a gentle squeeze as he moved his hand back to where it was. She was silent again once more and she rested one hand over his. Letting a few of her fingers fill the space between his but not twining them fully together. “Is this okay?” She asked softly.

Harry melted over her sweetness. “Perfect.”

*

They ate their ice cream on the beach sitting on the tall, white lifeguard stand since it was late. There was a smattering of running kids, a few dogs, and families littered closer to the water on the tidal flats. But no one was over where they were. Up on the soft sand encroaching on the dunes. They chatted in between licks and bites of ice cream and Harry was certain he was falling deeper and deeper in love with her by the millisecond. It was ridiculous. Love at first sight couldn’t possibly be real. He had three or four serious girlfriends (four if you counted his junior high love affair, three if you didn’t) all of whom he did fall in love with but over the course of weeks and months. Not minutes and hours. Maybe it was the salt air playing with his brain chemistry.

Certainly, it had something to do with the beautiful girl sitting so close to him he could feel her sun-kissed skin warming him from the gentle breeze floating off the water as the sun started its descent over the horizon. She took her phone from her purse and snapped a picture quickly. Hardly looked at it, barely centered it, yet it was the most beautiful sunset picture he’d ever seen.

“Are y’a photographer in y’free time?” He asked.

She snorted. “No, I do like taking pictures. But I have hundreds of these,” she said showing him the photo album of various sunset pictures she had taken over the years. Harry could see why she was so good at them. No two pictures looked alike which had to be a poem somewhere out there. Harry always considered himself a winter—growing up in cold England would do that to a person—and no two snowflakes were alike. Snowflakes had nothing on her sunsets.

“D’you want t’take a picture together?” He asked quietly.

She smirked. “Do I have chocolate on my face?” She wrinkled her nose at him.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “No,” he promised. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her snuggly against him. “S’this okay?” he asked almost directly into her ear. She nodded and smiled as she flipped her camera around to selfie mode. Harry had one arm around her waist, the other holding his ice cream cone. She reached her arm out to take the picture while she held her cup of ice cream in her lap with the other. Gazing at her screen, Harry couldn’t believe how effortless it felt to touch her. It was so easy to talk to her. And they looked like the perfect beach couple. “Can y’send that to me?” He murmured in her ear once more. She nodded mutely. Harry didn’t remove his arm from around her waist and he continued eating his ice cream.

Once finished with their treat, they continued chatting and watching the sunset listening to the laughter of families on the beach. The sky was so pretty Harry thought that she was right. This was the best place on earth.

*

They walked back to their cottages hand in hand, Harry stopping outside the door for the place labeled Sun-Kissed Cabana. “S’that why Louis calls you a sun-kissed angel?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s something else.”

Harry chuckled. Leaned forward and swept his lips on the apple of her cheek. “I had the perfect first day with you, love,” he said softly. “Sleep well,” he hummed and turned to walk three houses down. She pressed a hand on her cheek like a lovesick idiot. She nearly forgot the code to get into her own house and felt like floating all the way to her room where she giggled and kicked across her bed as she smiled into her pillow.

*

The next three days were spent almost the same as the first. The beach: complete with reading, naps, and lots of talking to the pretty girl he liked so much already. Followed by a run, a shower, and then dinner. Harry tried really hard not to touch her without asking. The only allowance he gave himself to touch her without asking was when he truly felt like her back was getting a little singed. On the second day she made the grilled chicken salad she told Harry she was going to make before he invited her to dinner, but once he informed her he was a pescetarian she hurried to the store to get him some fish to grill instead. It was totally unnecessary, and Harry felt guilty she spent money on him like that for dinner (even though he was insistent he pay for dinner and ice cream the first night). Regardless, it was a delicious salad paired with zucchini noodles that truly tasted just like pasta. Harry made her write the recipe down for him.

“I can’t run at all,” she wrinkled her nose when Harry offered to join her on her evening walk the following day.

“I’d rather walk with y’then, love,” he said softly with a smile. “If y’want company, that is.”

She wanted to say she wanted Harry’s company. But thought that was a bit too much. But they walked side by side, Harry gently ushering her to the inside of the road without making any fuss about it. They continued their comfortable chattering. Talking of anything and everything. That night they ordered pizza that was delivered to Sea View and watched a movie in his living room, her feet in his lap where he rubbed the soles of her aching feet without prompting or full acknowledgement.

By the end of the third day, she thought Harry might be her best friend. He made crispy cauliflower tacos. He spent the evening simply reading on her back porch with her in comfortable, perfect silence.

*

The fourth day, they were sitting on her back porch again, sipping bubbly wine spritzers that she put in glasses of ice and combined with a popsicle to match the flavors. Harry thought it was sinful the way she licked the pop. Harry wanted to jump her bones so very badly.

“How do you like the outdoor shower?” She asked looking up at the sky full of stars. There was a citronella candle between them to keep the bugs away and she had a solar set of lights strung about her little patio. She was in a soft warm glow from the lights. Once more, looking sun kissed. She was wearing a shorter dress than the other day, shorts beneath it. She informed him about the shorts because she said it was an athletic-type dress and she may have sat weird and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Harry thought there wasn’t anything she could do to make him uncomfortable.

“I haven’t used it, actually. M’not sure I—”

She made an almost inhuman noise, a cross between a growl and gasp. It was quite adorable even if she seemed miffed and Harry wished he could have recorded the sound because he thought he would listen to it on loop for the rest of forever. “Harry!” She almost shouted. “The sole reason I took Sun-Kissed Cabana over Sea View was because I knew the outdoor shower would be a huge selling point for renters. You haven’t used it?” She looked nearly betrayed.

He chuckled, sipping his drink. “M’sorry, love. I didn’t realize—”

“Harry, I’m not kidding. You have to go use it. Like right now.”

He laughed loudly. If there could possibly be a downside of this little beach-cottage neighborhood, it would be that the houses were quite close, and Harry’s loud laughter could probably be heard back at his own place. But she was staring at him seriously. He thought she really expected him to get up and leave at this moment so he could get this experience.

“Y’serious?” He asked smirking at her.

“I don’t joke about the outdoor shower,” she promised him.

Finishing his popsicle and taking the last sips of his drink he stood from her little patio table and shook his head with a chuckle at her. “I guess m’going.”

He wanted to invite her. Especially if she didn’t have one here at Cabana. It sounded like she would like it more. “You better,” she continued licking the pop and Harry was grateful he would at least have a new image to think about in the outdoor shower when he imagined his hand around his dick was her mouth instead.

*

The air was cool but somehow warm. Sort of like the water on his skin. He could see the draw and actually surprised himself that he hadn’t used the shower yet. He imagined in the morning it would be heaven—most of his showers had been in the afternoon or evening since he was running at that time. But maybe he could take two showers a day—who cared? He was on vacation.

Was it heavenly? Her message read.

Harry thought about how much how active his imagination got picturing her in that shower with him, his hand fisting over himself until he imagined her pretty cleavage covered in him instead of flowing with the water down the drain. Extremely. But of course, he left out why it was so heavenly. You should write a book of recommendations for your guests.

:) You can come back over if you want. I know I kind of kicked you out, but like I said. I’m very serious about outdoor showers.

Chuckling to himself, he hurried to get dressed again and meet her back there.

*

She knew Harry’s family was coming today so she told him that she would give him all kinds of space but if he needed anything, he was not to hesitate to ask her. “M’mum and sister would love t’meet you, kitten,” he promised. He didn’t mean to call her kitten. But it rolled off the tongue so effortlessly and she was the one who said she felt like a cat in the sun. But he didn’t spend long thinking about it and continued his little speech. “Y’don’t have t’evade us.”

“I’m sure you want family time,” she promised. “Really, it’s fine. Plus, we’ll have a whole other week to do our little routine,” she felt her face warm as she spoke realizing she just told Harry she wanted to spend the remainder of his vacation together. She opened her mouth to backtrack almost instantly, but Harry beat her to the punch before she could speak again.

Given that Harry was this close to telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, another full week spent together seemed like a great idea. “I can’t wait,” he promised.

They decided to do a sunrise that morning. She brought a blanket and was wrapped up in a long sleeve shirt along with a pair of sweatpants. She advised Harry to do the same. “The air is still cool from the night when you get to the beach early,” she explained the night before they parted to go to bed.

They were laying on the blanket angled by the natural slope of the dunes so they could see the view of the sun cresting on the ocean horizon. “Do y’have as many sunrise pictures?” He asked tiredly. With the sun rising at just after five-thirty she was courteous and kind in asking that they get there at five so they could see the dawn and array of beautiful colors painting the sky before the sun got there.

She giggled. “No way. Too early to see it that many times. I do like sunrises more, though,” she said. “It’s so much quieter. It’s not as hot. I don’t know. I think sunrises are just so beautiful.”

He immediately, silently agreed with her that they were. No matter how much he was enjoying sunsets with her. He would wake up at 4:45 every day if it meant watching something she found beautiful, and it made her happy. Harry had her pulled to his side again, his arm looped beneath the back of her neck. His eyes were closed as he fiddled with a strand of her hair running his fingers through the soft tendrils. “Harry,” she whispered after a few minutes. Harry felt the edges of sleep and the dreamworld starting to meld together on his brain. “You’re gonna miss it,” her voice was so gentle. Perfect for morning. She was the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on but he couldn't bring himself to open them right now.

“Hmm,” he hummed. Refusing to open his eyes. “S’okay. We can see it another day,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “Harry,” she whispered so gently. It felt like magic. Warmth spread through his whole body. “We woke up so early,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “M’sorry,” he sighed. “It’s so peaceful,” he muttered. “You’re warm,” he turned his face to bury his nose in her hair and he nuzzled closer to her. Harry being a cuddler didn’t surprise her. He was quite touchy. But this sent her heart into a frenzy, and she forgot why they were there.

“Harry,” she whispered again feeling brave. Maybe because it was too early, and her brain wasn’t functioning.

“Jus’ lemme sleep, kitten. Please?” He muttered into her hair. “Wake me in twenty-nine minutes.”

She swallowed. “But...I want to kiss you,” she sounded so shy.

Harry’s eyes sprung open, and he pulled back from her quickly to look at her beautiful, perfect face. “M’awake,” he promised and gently cupped her cheeks, his fingers slipping through her hair, and he brought her face closer to his. Kissing her like he had been dreaming about over the last five days was the only thing on his mind.

She moaned against his mouth and Harry was really looking forward to that outdoor shower now. She pressed against him, keening as she licked into his mouth, sucking on his lower lip. Driving him absolutely mad as she nipped at his lip gently with her teeth. She could feel herself squeezing her thighs together for relief because she was finally kissing Harry the way she wished she did at sunset on his first night here.

Harry’s hands were cool against her flushed cheeks. “Kitten,” he hummed against her mouth, pecking at her like he would die without her kisses. “Y’taste so good,” he sighed dreamily.

She rolled to her side to face him squarely while he returned to his side too, instead of hovering over her. He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her against him. Over the past four days at the beach, she had tried really hard not to stare at whatever was going on in Harry’s swimsuit, so she didn’t look like a sex-maniac. But there was no way she could ignore the hard dick she felt against her thigh as she pressed against the full length of his body. She imagined Harry fucking her so hard in that outdoor shower that the neighbors would have no way of ignoring what was happening. She moaned at the idea once more against his lips, thighs pressing together.

“Oh no,” he hummed. If she wasn’t already so drunk in love with Harry after one date and four days together, she might have thought his voice sounded a bit mocking. Slowly, he rolled onto his back holding onto her and perching her body on top of him as he did. One of his legs separated her thighs apart. “Do y’need something from me, love?” He cooed almost lovingly at the idea she was aching between her legs. He kept her pulled down toward him so he could continue kissing her, effectively melting all coherent thought.

Holy shit, his voice. Oh my God.

Without meaning to, she clenched her legs once more, this time, wrapped around Harry’s thigh causing friction, despite two layers of sweatpants and her underwear (at least those were thin). “N-no,” she almost whimpered trying to get away from his leg. Harry put his hands on her hips and gently pressed her back down toward him while bending his knee a bit. His thigh came closer in contact with her so if she wanted to, she could rub right against him.

“Y’sure, love? You look like y’might need something,” his voice was so sultry. It was too early for this. His eyes were somehow a deeper green. His lips were too pink after kissing her.

“N-no,” she shook her head despite wanting nothing more than to grind her pelvis against his thigh. She knew what it looked like beneath the sweatpants. She knew the tattoos that dotted his skin. Fuck, she wanted to get herself off so bad. But she was acutely aware of her position and tried to lift herself off his leg. “I-I think m’too heavy,” she stammered again.

He groaned and pulled her tighter against his leg. “No way, angel,” he promised. “Go ahead, know y’want to. I want y’to,” his voice was a bit husky. Like he was a bit confused. She groaned softly. God she wanted to. “That’s it,” he encouraged as she ground herself against him.

She felt flush, wishing she wasn’t wearing sweatpants. They were getting in the way. The long sleeve shirt was making her warmer. Or maybe it was Harry that was making her warm. Harry helped shift her hips back and forth against his leg as she moaned and whimpered as she rutted against his thigh. “Y’look so pretty, kitten,” he cooed. “Getting off on m’thigh like that. S’making me so hard, love. Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re s’pretty.”

She continued creating friction on between the two of them worried she would give herself a burn from all the fabric rubbing together but she was so fucking wet she was certain she would slide easily against him if she could take her pants off in public. The sun was still rising, not quite up over the horizon yet, but the sky was brighter, creating a gorgeous image of her beautiful body silhouetted from the light. “S’good, so good, baby,” he groaned. She whined and continued rutting herself against him.

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Yeah, love? Y’gonna come for me? Gonna come from jus’ m’thigh?”

Jesus Christ, she felt like she was a virgin. She was almost certain she was. Had she ever even had an orgasm before Harry? When was the last time she had sex? When was the last time she masturbated? Holy shit. This was bad. He was all consuming and he was fully clothed, and it was just his thigh.

She nodded at his words. Even though she felt a bit silly and stupid for doing this, with two layers of sweatpants between them. “Yeah? Good, want y’to. Y’look so pretty all—”

“Fucking hell,” she whimpered and dropped her face to his chest as she twitched against him. Harry flexed his muscle, gripping her hips and rubbing her against him so he could help her ride out the waves of her orgasm for a few moments. After that, Harry dropped his knee once more, letting her flatten against him. He kissed her forehead as she breathed heavily against him, shaky and sighing as she let the euphoria course through her. He rubbed up and down her back as she did, and he breathed deeply into her hair. She smelled like sunscreen and coconut.

“I really like sunrises,” he murmured. She smirked. Her face against his chest. “Y’sleepy, now, kitten?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” her voice was a bit quiet. Almost unsure. “Sorry,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his shirt.

He shook his head, kissing the top of her hair once more. “Don’t be sorry. Been thinking ‘bout y’coming all over me since I met you.”

She giggled. “Yeah?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t very...flattering on his part. It also made it sound like he only liked her for the idea of sex. Which wasn’t the case. He liked her so much simply because she was the sweetest, nicest person he had had the pleasure of meeting for a really long time.

She rolled off him. He kind of hated it because even though it wasn’t freezing cold, it felt like it now that she wasn’t laying on his body. She looked at the outline of the bulge stretching against his gray sweatpants. It was still ten minutes until the sun would be touching the horizon. “Fair’s fair, yeah?” She wondered, looking up at him and then back down at the somehow growing outline. She would be lucky if he fit in her mouth.

“Angel, y’don’t have to jus’ because—”

She frowned. “Do...you not want me to?” She wondered, confused and worried that he was rejecting her. She didn’t know why if he had just used her thigh to get him off.

“No, no,” he said quickly wanting to ease the worry he saw fill her beautiful face. God he would rather die than reject her. “I mean...y’can do whatever y’want to m’body,” he nodded eagerly. “Jus’ don’t want you t’think you have to. Been thinking ‘bout—” his voice choked off as she outlined the bulge. “Oh...s’nice,” he moaned forgetting everything he was saying about what she could do to him. Her fingertip simply ran along absent-minded paths along his length. He struggled to remember the last time he had sex because he could only imagine the episode in the outdoor shower as the last time he orgasmed.

She giggled. “Nice?” She questioned; Harry was so polite. The way he walked with her on the inside of the road, the way he held her door open no matter if they were going in the house or the car, or if he simply carried her heavy cooler off the beach even though he was carrying his own belongings. For him to say it was nice the way she was touching his dick was simply...something else.

He nodded breathlessly. “Yeah,” he was already too far gone with just her goddamn finger touching him. He couldn’t have made any comment further if he wanted to. He moaned as she squeezed gently along the length of him. Five minutes till sunrise and the beach would be covered in light. She glanced around quickly, seeing they were still alone. She had never done this in the five years she had been staying the summer back in town keeping an eye on Sea View while living in Sun-Kissed Cabana.

“Do you think I could make you come in five minutes?” She whispered.

He groaned almost animalistically. “Love, I think y’could make me come in forty-five seconds,” he promised. And with that, she dipped her head toward his waist just until the sun was ready to cross over the horizon.

*

It was quite difficult not to text Harry all day long while his family visited. It was entirely due to having an orgasm at his hand (thigh); the creeping need to bond to the person who just made her entire world flip upside down was a prominent feeling throughout her body the whole day. The words of her book didn’t make any sense, so she opted for cleaning her bathroom. But that proved to be difficult too, and she spilled most of the mop water back onto the floor. After another fit of cleaning that up, she decided to spend her time at the grocery store since she was getting dangerously low on her much-needed items. She nearly forgot to go to the checkout line. After putting everything away she thought about just going to bed at three in the afternoon just to rid her mind of how crazy she was being and how awkwardly she missed her summer guy.

Fortunately, Harry broke first, before she fell asleep.

I know it’s silly, but I miss you terribly.

She felt so much relief reading his message. Oh, thank God. Me too.

You really should just come over. Mum and Gemma want to meet you. I won’t shut up about you. It’s...a bit pathetic how obsessed I sound actually. Mum’s in the outdoor shower while Gemma is taking pictures of the beach. We’re going to have dinner in a bit—you should join us. He put this shy little emoji after his message.

She was currently dressed in a pair of bike shorts and t-shirt that fell past her hips, barely a strip of the shorts showed. She had her hair pulled back by a claw clip. She wanted to go over there immediately. However, her outfit and hair did not look ready to meet Harry’s family. Plus, she was worried she would do something stupid like sit in Harry’s lap in front of his mother and sister and then she would have to jump out a window to hide her infatuation.

I would love to, but really...I’m sure they want to see you.

They want to ‘meet the girl that’s got me all flustered’ that I nearly dropped all our snack bar food in the sand today :)

She giggled. Glad he was also affected by their sunrise romp in the sand. Maybe tomorrow? She hedged instead. She really didn’t want to intrude.

Please, love. That would be wonderful.

*

She must have fallen asleep anyway. But she woke up to a knock at her door. She felt the claw clip sliding out of the back of her hair and she rubbed her eye as she made her way over. There stood Harry and two women outside the screen door. Each of them was holding a dish of (presumably) food. Immediately, she felt underdressed and stupid looking. “Uh, hey beautiful,” he smiled gently. “Sorry t’bother you. But seems the barbeque back there is out of gas,” he explained. “I sent y’a text—”

“Harry, the poor girl was sleeping,” his mother admonished. “I told you we could just go out to eat. Love, m’so sorry. I swear some days he was raised in a barn!” She shook her head. “We’ll leave you be.”

“No, no,” she shook her head quickly, the clip clattering from the ends of her hair to the floor. She felt her face warm, once more grateful for the tan skin to hide most of the blush rushing to her cheeks. She opened the door for them to enter and quickly swept the clip into her hands. “Make yourselves at home,” she said, and Harry ushered his mother toward the kitchen and out the back door toward the patio and grill. Gemma walked slower behind her family to give some reassurance to the girl who was struggling to fix her hair in the little entry way mirror.

“M’sorry about both of them in advance,” Gemma whispered. “Harry hasn’t been able to function normally all day and Mum is already in love with you. When you didn’t answer, it was the first coherent thought Mum had about not begging to see you and thus began Harry pacing waiting all of four minutes for your response before he said we could just come over like absolute lunatics.”

Oh God she liked Gemma. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I look like this,” she winced at the image of her reflection. She was all frizz and pillow lines from the couch where she fell asleep.

She snorted. “Please, we interrupted your evening. Your quiet time and relaxation. Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful,” she promised pressing a hand on her arm and headed after her brother and mother.

If she wasn't already--which she was pretty sure she was--Harry’s lovely little family was going to ensure she fell so hopelessly and terribly in love with Harry.

--

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[doomed2repeat]

Very unpopular Polin opinion in this fandom but every time I see that picture of Penelope getting ready for the wedding in her corset with someone saying Colin didn’t get to see her like that because he was sulking and how he missed out because he was being dramatic it annoys me so much. I know it’s just a joke but it encapsulates so much of what is wrong with how some people look at Polin and Colin.

Not letting Colin have agency and a proper reaction to things because Penelope is the only one allowed to have negative feelings. Everything he feels must be in service to Penelope or it’s belittled and treated like an overreaction or being dramatic.

And at the very least we should’ve gotten an equivalent thirst trap of Colin getting ready for the wedding so we can use that to meme how Penelope fucked up her chance at a fun wedding night with him because of how SHE acted. They both didn’t get what they wanted that night, but let’s be clear on who was asking who for a wedding night, and who’s fault it was that they were having this problem in the first place. Penelope stood ten toes down on messing up her own chance for a sexy wedding night, and if she’s prioritizing herself in that moment over sex that’s fine, but Colin should also be given the grace to do the same.

Penelope wanted Whistledown more than she wanted THAT on her wedding night, and I think people just don’t want to own up to that, or what it means. It’s easier to put all the work back on Colin rather than hold Pen accountable for what she contributed to the dynamic at play and for why that wedding night did not happen.

And this is an audience issue, NOT a Penelope issue, because within the show Penelope shows more understanding and patience for Colin than Penelope-centric Polin fans do at every turn.

Anyway, yeah, I know it’s a meme but the meaning behind it is irksome.

[echo-and-dust]

now that my brain has somewhat unscrambled itself i have gotten most of my thoughts in order about season 3.

and the first thing i will say is: i loved it.

while it was gutwrenching and polarizing in some ways and i feel that i am entitled to financial compensation for what its done to my mental health, i loved this season for pretty much almost everything it did.

i cannot fault people for having issues with much of the characterization and plot choices made—that’s been the trend during the entire run of the show after all, and imo it’s a testament to the phenomenal way it generates nuance—but i wanted to share my feelings on the recurring opinions i’ve seen about some of these things.

first, i do not blame simon at all for the things he said in the final scene. he’s a child who has been receiving endless verbal and physical harassment on top of all the trauma he is still trying to heal from. he just watched his boyfriend lash out in anger and hurt—while not at him, but it must’ve been a close resemblance of how he might’ve seen micke act. at least, that's what i thought, though i've seen others say otherwise.

and yes, wille is not micke, but just because wille’s source of outbursts is different from micke’s doesn’t mean simon is wrong in drawing similarities. at least he's finally getting a true glimpse into what wille has had to deal with. i've honestly grown to like that they didn't have simon immediately comfort him though; wille's mental illness is not his fault, but it is his responsibility, and instead of pushing a message of unhealthy co-dependence, the show has simon be honest: "but i see that everything hurts you and that hurts me too." and to me, that's so important.

plus, it doesn't make their love any less genuine. wille is a victim of the circumstances; he is not evil, and he is not undeserving of simon. he just has a lot of growing and healing to do, a lot of unlearning and exposure therapy because he's still blinded by privilege even when he tries not to be.

speaking of, i have so many thoughts about wille that i feel like i need to save for its own separate post, but to sum them up: i'll still defend him with my life, and he needs to get the fuck away from that institution.

also, the fact that the responsibility of controlling simon's media decisions was placed solely on wille confused me at first like—why wouldn't they get a professional to give him proper media training?

then i realized, this could be the royal court's way of sabotaging their relationship. they knew that making wille the one to tell simon what he can and cannot say or post would create distance and animosity between them. despite the ramifications of simon's behavior on social media, it seems they still thought it best to have his boyfriend be the one to try to mold him into the system. because they knew that's how they could get rid of him. in conclusion, fuck the royal court (we been knew but still).

one of the standouts this season was their transparency regarding the show's politics. it not only works well with the show's arc (wilmon is public, everything's out in the open now and there's nothing to hide), but also it felt necessary at a time where censorship has been rapidly gaining momentum. it felt so refreshing for these characters to talk so openly about racial discrimination and queerphobia and class disparities, forcing both character and viewer to acknowledge that they exist and you should feel uncomfortable about it.

i don't think i can add much more to what was already said about it—most of the fandom is more eloquent and observant than i am anyway—i just wanted to reinforce how important this season is to myself and the story even with how controversial it is to fans right now. a lot of people may disagree with me and that's fine.

[prncssie]

caution mdni 9k words religious subtext, oral, fem reader, college setting, pet names

miffy note this is the sequel to peppermint patty! there will be a third and possibly a .5 part following at a later time c: pls do not spam like my blog! reblogging is always appreciated. pls also consider sending in requests or sponsoring some of my other works via fics for gaza

you could just about die right now; you’re ready to, hoping the dull, faux hardwood tiles would peel apart from the years old glue and open to reveal an endless dark abyss to swallow you up. why? because standing right across from you is hobart brown.

the moment reminds you of a movie. you stand in the library, warm air blasting through the central heating and bringing about a thin layer of sweat across your skin. you should have known better but you only intended to stay for a moment before escaping back to the coolness of outside. the winter months have begun to roll in and your semester has progressed from lounging around with your friends to spending multiple nights up in the late hours, typing away incessantly at your keyboard.

you’ve already gotten one book tucked into your chest and browse the shelves for another. french tipped acrylics grasp around the spine of yet another book and you pull it out to flip through the aged, yellow-stained pages. now that the temperatures have dipped into the thirties, you depend on the layers to maintain your warmth — an oversized cable knit sweater layered over a white shirt, gray leggings on top of tights, pink leg warmers over white socks, and platform uggs. you’ve even got a scarf tied loosely around your neck. walking around campus, you feel just a little chill but it’s bearable. the moment you stepped into the threshold of the library, however, you were quick to remove your trench coat and hang it over your arm.

you’re deep into it too, still flipping the pages and mulling over adding the book to the ever-growing list of resources for your project, when a shadow begins to edge its way into your peripheral. it’s not necessarily a big deal, but you find yourself lifting your eyes anyway. it’s more out of habit than anything else. still, you both freeze in your tracks and stare at each other akin to two little fawns, surprised to see another just like them.

hobie freaking brown.

you haven’t seen him since . . . when? september? october? well now it’s nearing the end of your first semester and you have yet to cross paths which, by the way, is entirely intentional. you bolt every time you see him and hobie knows it. he’s witnessed the display of anxiety with his own two eyes.

“ . . ., hey ☆.” hobie speaks first, maintaining a cautious distance. he clearly intends to walk down your aisle with the way his feet are positioned but he has yet to move, looping his hand around the strap of his bag. he feels just as awkward as you do, although confused because he’s been left in the dark. sure, hobie figured that the dynamic would change but if he knew you’d flat out ignore his existence, he would have denied you the experience entirely.

you suck in a breath and glance down the opposite direction. you’re already formulating a possible escape route but every possible plan your little brain comes up with is more embarrassing than the last. he’s already acknowledged you. you have to speak to him; that’s just proper manners. “h - um . . . wow, hi hobie. we haven’t talked in a minute. how are you?”

the corners of his mouth twitch and pull at the silver lip rings. he sniffs and shifts his weight. this is bullshit and he’d tell you but you’d probably disintegrate on the spot. there’s no point in beating around the bush if you’ve both ran into each other. this must be a sign, divine intervention. “fine,” is what he settles on, short and curt to prevent himself from pushing the sweet, small town girl too far and into a panic.

“that’s good. the semester’s about to end. how are your classes?” gosh, now you’re making small talk. it’s out of your control now. you’ve fallen into your default and there’s not a single thing you can do about it but smile with some form of anguish across your face. you’ve long forgotten about the book in your hands. there’s no chance you can slide it back onto the team wood shelves. it has to come back to your apartment style dorm with you.

hobie’s lip twitch again. this is painful. he assumes it’s the same on both sides but he knows enough about you to know that you’re not going to take the first step, even if you haven’t seen each other in weeks — those three seconds when you’re dashing around the corner in a blur don’t count. “fine. look, i should probably go unless you have something to say to me . . .?”

his question is met with a small shake of your head. you clutch your books tighter to your chest and will your attention not to wander too far, not to drink in his appearance and dwell on the feelings of grief for your friendship. your very first friend, the one who accepted you with open arms. maybe with too open arms. “yeah. i should go to. it was nice seeing you.”

hobie merely hums and turns in his heel. he leaves through the opposite direction, abandoning whatever task he came to fulfill. it remains unchecked in his mental todo list and he disappears from your vision, leaving you standing in the aisle alone. a chill makes its way down your spine. your entire body shudders with something vigorous and yet, you’re not cold.

spotting vivienne in the common space of your dorm is kind of a rare occurrence. it’s not like she’s never in home or refuses to speak to you. she just spends a lot of time behind the privacy of the heavy wooden door of her room with her boyfriend. other times, she’s on the other side of campus, strewn across his bed and empty mindedly staring at his tv screen in an attempt to seem interested in whatever show he’s trying to get her into.

however, this week the two are arguing and your red-headed friend makes it obvious with her questions. vivienne is laid across one end of the couch, twirling a strand between her fingertips, turned pale compared to the previous summer tan in the hotter months. “who’s that guy i saw you with the other day? he’s kinda cute and i think i’m getting annoyed with matthew.”

you don’t bother to look in her direction. it’s a risky thing to do when the named banned from your inner monologue makes a not-so-subtle frown appear on your face. if anything, you take it an as opportunity to lift the book in your hand closer to your face. you’re beginning to regret not reading in your room and shaming the impulsiveness that made you crave a change of environment. “i don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“yes you do!” vivienne is more interested in your bold face lie now that you’ve said it, scooting closer to your body curled up into the arm of the touch. “i know you do because i’ve seen you with him before, a long time ago. if he’s yours, just say that.”

“he’s not mine, viv. i don’t really know him like that, not anymore. we used to be friends and now we aren’t.” you say with a sigh. you attempt to deter her curiosity by lifting the book higher and making a big show out of flipping the page. you should have known, though, that it would be futile. all you’ve done is open up a can of worms as to why you aren’t friends anymore.

“oh my god, girl. you have to tell me what happened.” from the surface of your gorgeous and fresh white pages, four fingers go to bend along the edge and force it downwards until your face is visible. by now, vivienne is all up close and staring at you expectantly. her hair, dyed a very deep shade of red — one that reminds you of red velvet cake — is swaying so close every time she shifts her weight, you swear you can get whiffs of the coconut scented shampoo. fortunately, and possibly unfortunately, for vivienne’s genes, her hair lays bone straight so there’s no stray ends flying up your nose, no matter how thick the density is.

you sigh again, wracking your brain for a possible out. within the past few months of living with her, you’ve gotten to know and occasionally love all her quirks. at times, her stubbornness can be seen through a positive light but now . . . now she’s just bringing up old memories you couldn’t possibly tell her. as if you’d let such lewd descriptions fall from your lips. just the though of the sinful actions make your face hot with embarrassment and instilled guilt, especially when you factored in all the nights you spent with your hand down your cotton panties, rehashing those same thoughts. you think vivienne would laugh if she knew all this. after all, she is free spirited. “we just fell off one day. things got awkward because we have different backgrounds so we don’t really talk anymore. that’s all.”

vivienne’s eyes narrow, brown and larger than usual — probably because of the contacts she sometimes puts in. you can tell she doesn’t believe you when her head nods slowly and she drawls a slow “mhm . . .” it’s questionable why she doesn’t push you further until you’re forced to messily tell her the truth. “well, then it can’t be helped.” she frees you from her curiosity, scooting away to resume lazing about without a care in the world. “you never know though. maybe you’ll reconnect before the semester ends. winter is like the prime time for romance. it’s so cold and everyone always want to cuddle.”

at this, your nose scrunched and you almost snort your disagreement. as if, you think to yourself, as if there’d ever be a single moment in the near or distant future where hobie is romancing you, no matter the season. besides, winter break approaching only meant your return home and return to the church, volunteering to aid in the annual christmas play. “what about you and matt? you’ll probably be back together before you go home.”

“fuck matt. he’s a piece of shit and when he realizes he’s wrong, i’m not taking him back.” her response is followed by a huff of breath out of her nose. whether she’s waiting for you to ask her more, to send her an open invitation to continue your rant, or not, you don’t know.

all you know is her language is distasteful and you make no move to do so, filling the silence with a page flip of your book. what a silly thing to think, especially when you know she’s lying and will always take him back. if this is what relationships are, you sure don’t want one.

there is a problem, a big one. the moment you stir with consciousness, there’s something awfully uncomfortable in the air around you. even under your thick winter comforter, you can feel the sudden . . . cold, the chill that should be unnatural indoors. a shiver runs down your spine before you’re throwing the blanket off your body. “oh my gosh,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around your exposed shoulders.

you feet find solace in the furry slippers resting on the floor and you rise to support your weight on your own. your nose starts running rather quickly and you sniff, all while shuffling across your room to the singular window occupying the wall decorated in little print outs, polaroids, and other various wall decorations. your fingers wrap around the thin cord to draw the blinds upwards.

tick. tick. tick. there’s snow hitting your windowpane.

“oh my gosh!”

it’s almost simultaneous, the knocks against your door. you can only assume it’s your roommate but you get your answer anyway because she walks in, phone in hand and eyes widened in surprise.

“☆, you won’t believe the email they just sent out. the power went out and it’s going to be out until at least tomorrow. we’re gonna have no heat until they fix that shit. it’s the fucking storm. they’re saying we should try and go home early and they’re going to try and make accommodations.”

you don’t have it in you to internally reprimand her vernacular because all your brain capacity has gone into processing her sudden and rapid-fire news. it’s no surprise that there was a winter storm budding a few states over. news has been buzzing with predictions on how much snow will fall, how white the streets will turn when covered in such a thick, cold blanket. “what? when are they going to make accommodations? it’s freezing cold and i’m not staying here all . . .,” your attention falls onto your phone resting on your desk. 

you originally assumed it was early morning and the sun is soon to rise over the horizon in all its bright glory but the lack of birds chirping and hidden in the branches draws another reason for concern. you reach over and tap your screen until it illuminates the room and you’re astonished, all over again. it seems today, or rather tonight, is handing you all sorts of misfortunes. “it’s only two in the morning? i’m not sleeping here all night. it’s freezing.”

when your eyes find vivienne again, she’s leaning against your doorway and shaking her head. her thoughts have already whirred through the same shock you’ve experienced. believe it or mot, that temporary bump in the road with her man had already passed and she spent the last few minutes texting him back and forth. it was sheer luck that she was awake enough to catch the email as it was sent and rushed to inform you, likewise worried about the safety of remaining here for a few hours. “i’m mot either. i’m planning on going across camp, probably gonna sleep in matthew’s room tonight.”

this is awfully unfair. not the fact your roommate has already acquired an alternative shelter for the night, but because not only have you ran into someone you hadn’t intended to ever, you have no one to run to in times like these. your extrovert friend, the one who invites you places and out of your comfort zone has herself to think about. you feel too guilty asking for her assistance in pestering her other friends and your acquaintances. “i don’t know what i’m going to do. i don’t really feel comfortable asking anyone i know to spend the night. i mean, the only person i really hung out with like that . . .”

“call him.” vivienne says rather quickly. she almost cuts you off with her urgency, even going as far as walking across your room and pushing your phone into your hand. “just call him, girl. you need somewhere safe to stay tonight and i’m not letting you stay here. worst case scenario, he says no and i take you with me.”

her gesture, while nice and admittedly pushing you in the right direction, makes you shift uncomfortably. call hobie and ask to spend the night after everything that’s happened? or rather, everything that hasn’t happened. “i — i don’t know. i don’t think he’s pick up, much less let me stay over. maybe i’ll just use an extra blanket. it could be manageable.”

“absolutely not. why wouldn’t he answer?” vivienne is forcing your phone closer to you, as if having it in proximity with your chest will somehow magically unlock it and dial that number you’ve been avoiding for an unnamed time. you’ve even considered deleting it, believing you’d never use it ever again. 

“because we haven’t spoken in forever. he’s not going to answer. knowing him, he’s going to watch it ring and then text me. or not. i don’t know, he’s unpredictable.” your arm, with the hand boy currently forced to wrap around the thick phone case decorated in vivid swirls of color, wraps around your stomach to bring about a sense of security. a part of you is focused on the chill that settings in your bones and you regret slipping into a pair of shorts to sleep in. 

vivienne barely misses a beat. if anything, she only takes half a second to mull over your words and suck in a breath. you can almost hear the thoughts jumbling in her head. “okay . . . okay. then, we’ll stop by and try to convince him in person. if that doesn’t work, then we’ll just have to do plan b.”

it sounds reasonable. it would have been an effective plan had it been under different circumstances. for one, every building requires a keycard to get one, one that’s programmed for that specific building. neither of your key fobs would cause the electronic lock to slide away and allow you access inside. secondly, who’s to say hobie will even be awake? that he’ll come to the door and open it? that he’ll push aside whatever internal turmoil and allow you to stay the night, especially after the heat of your last real interaction. 

you purse your lips, preparing to share all your points with her but vivienne doesn’t want to hear it, and rightfully so. both of your health is at risk here and it’s better to try than throw all consideration out the window. there’s already a ton of reasonable explanations that oppose her position but you don’t really have a chance to communicate that. vivi has already made her way to her closet and pulled out a bag, large enough to hold your necessities had you sleep elsewhere. you’re too non confrontational to say otherwise and sigh.

this night is full of surprises, it seems. it’s like the universe curated this entire situation and left no space for any mishaps against her original design. not only was there someone who just happened to be walking out of the building you were headed into — where he’s going in this weather, you have no idea — but hobie was indeed awake and did in fact open the door.

it’s probable he’s already eyed you through the peephole because the wooden door is pulled at its hinges and he wordlessly leans against the doorway. hobie is dressed for bed, despite posing lively, arms crossed on his chest and an eyebrow raised in peaked interest. he’s waiting on you to say something, you know this, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

he looks so comfortable, standing there in plush jack skellington pajamas pants and a loose fitted shirt. there’s a logo blown up across the front. you can only assume it’s a band you don’t recognize. he’s not dressed up, but by a long shot. there’s even a few piercings missing and the usual jeweled accessories you see him with have been removed and put back in their rightful spot. still, you’re speechless and clutching the straps of your tote bag, securely looped around your shoulder.

it’s not the way he looks but him as a concept, an essence. it’s what he stands and the fear that you’ve been fighting to continually ignore. it’s the religious guilt for such a heavy sin you’ve never imagined you’d commit. he is tempting, a hologram of lucifer himself, a craving a lust that you cannot afford to get involved with. it will ruin your purity. or rather, your sanity.

you shouldn’t be here.

“what do we have here?” hobie’s voice acts like a harsh wind in the fog of your brain, pushing it all to the back of your mind and forcing you to refocus to the situation, at hand. “couple of strays, huh?” he’s smiling at the both of you but you know he’s talking to you. he’s looking at you, staring right into your soul to draw out the reason for your sudden appearance. “hi vivienne. ‘s nice to see you again.”

“we’ve met before?” she speaks with such ease to him, you’re jealous. she’s unaffected, obviously. it’s a wonder if she can even feel the growing tension the longer you stand here and stare at him.

“mm, once or twice,” his lips upturn in a soft smile, accompanied by the crown of his head dipping towards his shoulder, left and right. “i don't expect you to remember me. it was only in passing.”

it gets quiet all over again and you know it’s because everyone is waiting. you’re the one who needs to ask because you’re the one who needs to stay. it’s so easy to ask and yet, so hard at the same time. so difficult to look hobie in the eyes and say can i sleep here tonight?

and yet, you do rather hesitantly. “um, i know that we are friends right now but i . . . our building has no heat and it’s really cold and it’s going to start snowing. i didn’t want to ask you but vivi said — anyway that’s not important. i just can’t stay there because it’s freezing and i’m not going home for a few more days. plus, they sent out an email saying that we shouldn’t sleep there so . . . i mean, you can totally say no. i’ll just follow vivi to her —”

“jesus fucking christ,” hobie cuts off your rant with. click of his tongue. it’s unclear whether his tone is annoyed because he speaks so slowly, shifting his weight until he’s standing and supporting himself fully. “you could have texted me all’at.”

you think, just for a moment, he’s going to step inside and slam the door in your face when he retreats behind the invisible boundary of his door. but no, he’s simply making room for you, motioning for you to walk through the door and entire his space.

“i got her. have a good night, vivienne.”

you think it’s more shocking being behind the door and in hobie’s threshold than it was trying to ask him to welcome you in. you only take a few steps until you’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. it’s exactly as you remembered, posters decorating the wall until only slivers of plaster are visible between the margins. there’s a tapestry hung up over the top of his bed. that’s new, along with the large mirror leaning against his closet door.

it’s cluttered, full of antique records and hobie’s personal artwork. he hangs his belts up on hooked command strips, studded and catching the purple lights from the led. it smells like bergamot, mist scented with essential oils spewing out the humidifiers on hobie’s desk. his large monitored pc is on and playing chainsaw man at such a soft volume, you almost miss it. 

“you can have the bed. i’ll make something work.” he takes a seat at his desk without sparing you a glance. much like the other night, your view of him is obscured. all you can really see is his fingers working together on what you perceive to be him crocheting, something that could have been surprising if you didn’t know he’s a jack of all trades.

you look over at his bed, blankets messily wrinkled and tossed aside. unlike your own, it lacks an excess of decoration pillows and stuffed animals. that’s not the part that seems daunting, though. it’s his bed in his room. “thank you, hobie. i really appreciate it.”

you’ve already hung your bed over the blocky stalk forming the makeshift headboard when he hums a response. hobie’s bed is lifted much higher than yours, obviously because he towers over you. it makes sense that his bed needs to offset the the affects of his height but for you, it’s an inconvenience. you don’t remember it being this tall before your fallout. you tilt your head and assess your possible solutions. a chair could be helpful but he’s sitting on it. there doesn’t seem to be a ladder in the room, probably because he doesn’t need it. “do you mind helping me . . . one more time? i won’t speak to you anymore, after that.”

hobie rolls back his shoulders, pulling at the muscles in his neck until they pop under the stretch. there’s a sigh that falls from his lips before he turns around and stands. “yeah, sure. can’t get on the bed?” he isn’t expecting an answer though because the moment you’re in his eyesight, staring at the navy blue duvet and clutching the light fabric between your fingers, it’s pretty clear what the problem is.

the distance is closed between both your bodies in a short span of a few seconds. it’s after that time where his hands circle around your waist with a firm grip. any other girl wouldn’t feel such a warm heat creeping up the back of their neck. you’re the only one on the planet probably, with all your inexperience, that oddly feels shy when he lifts you into the air and onto the bed with so much as a grunt.

you settle and shift until you’ve almost scurried into the back corner to evade any possible tension that could arise from the proximity. when you’re glancing back over your shoulder with your lips pulled into a strained line, hobie has his head cocked to the side and a gaze that lingers on yours.

he could question you now, he’s sure. he could nip this avoidance thing in the bud and get it over with. this could all be over today but . . . there’s just something in the way. it’s not like he isn’t confrontational or would rather protect your feelings but he can only imagine how this must feel for you. knowing that your friendship cannot go back to the way it was before after blurring the lines. a large part of him regrets ignoring his mental clarity and decided to go through with it anyway. he knew it would end up like this, sort of. you would lose all grasp you have on reality as you know it and send yourself spiraling into uncertainty. “ . . . y’know i’m not gonna bite you or something, right? you just need somewhere to sleep so you’re here. that’s it.”

as usual, hobie is the far more rational one in this situation. his demeanor reminds you of something lackluster, brushing off the situation at hand as if it’s nothing, as if what happened didn’t and he hadn’t had his fingers deep in your cunt a few months prior. “no i know. it’s just . . . with our history . . .”

his shoulders rise and drop in a shrug. the muscles on his shoulders, broad and somewhat stocky, tense and pull around his neck. the skin wrinkles before it settles back in its originally position. “clearly you don’t want to talk about it so we aren’t going to talk about it.”

similarly to your last visit, hobie takes a seat in his desk chair. he replaced the sturdy wooden one with his own and turns the seat until it’s facing your direction. hobie’s legs spread wide and comfortably; he slouches, rounding his back and slouching further down in the chair. he’s only eyeing you for just a moment before proceeding to turn his attention back to his show.

you mull his words over in his head, tossing them around your brain and deciding how they taste in your mouth as it all gets processed. the simple way to end things would be to nod and lay down but there’s an upset in your heart, a disturbance that makes you stomach turn with nausea. “well, what is there to talk about? we . . . did what we did. that’s all there is to it, right?”

his interest is suddenly peaked away, curiosity reaching an all time high while he swivels his chair around in your direction again. it’s astonishing that you, so shy and so quiet, had stepped up to plate and given him the opening he needed. hobie, in all honesty, has been waiting for this. he’s been stewing on his emotions and thinking over what he really wanted out of this for weeks. he missed you, the girl he rescued from having such a horrid experience at a party. “yeah, that would be it if you didn’t scatter like a fuckin’ bug under an overturned rock every time you see me.”

“hobie,” you can’t help but chastise him, falling back into your old habits. you’re even curled up in his bed and have nestled beneath the sheets, now warming from your trapped body heat. 

“i’d apologize but i’m not really sorry. you avoided me for weeks. you’re deadass lucky that i let you stay here tonight because technically, we aren’t cool anymore.” he’s gotten his arms crossed over his chest now, a brow raised to challenge you to press his concept of your less-than-friendship. “i’m always gonna look out for you, bug, but i’m feeling kind of betrayed right now.”

you tuck your bottom lip in between the space of your teeth and knaw on the brown skin, pulling at the dead and dry spots that lift with any contact of your tongue. an apology flows out of you quickly but you mean it, despite the predispositioned guilt you get at the drop of a hat. “i’m sorry, hobie. it wasn’t my intention. i just didn’t know what to do. i still don’t know what to do. i’ve never done — that — before and you were such a good friend. it scared me.” you can’t help but lock in your attention on a little red string, dangling off the side of hobie’s pillowcase. 

you don’t see the way he tilts his head and prolongs his gaze. it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking, at times. you’re not everyone else, and certainly not in a quirky way. to hobie, you’re far more delicate, far more likely to apologize for any and everything. you’re not well adapted, he thinks. the world could swallow you up hole at any given point and he can’t help but feel pity. or is it empathy? “i know. it is partially my fault. i should have stuck to what i said. it’s normal for a dynamic to change when you fuck someone. i can’t expect you to know that so yeah, i forgive you. we’re fine.”

still, there’s some deep settled guilt inside you, locked away and unable to be opened. weeks worth of unresolved questions and answers left up tn your interpretation. it makes you frown so hard, the lines could be etched into your otherwise smooth skin. “no, it’s not you. i’m just, i dunno? different, i guess. i’m not normal but i wish i was because then this wouldn’t be such a big thing. no one else cares like i do.”

“but that’s okay. you shouldn’t feel guilty because you feel differently than anyone else. it’s fine, ☆. it’s okay. it was a mutual decision. it just won’t be a decision we make again.” his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. it could seem dismissive is if was anyone but hobie, the one person who would do all he could to ease your worries. “i know you. i know who you are and how you think and what you’re like. it’s okay, really. we’re cool, yeah? just go to sleep and relax. ‘m not mad, really.”

you sniff and curl up into the corner of the bed. you tug the soft sheets up to your chin and tuck it under. the fabric brushes across your nerves in a way that’s soothing, comforting like a warm hug. you look at hobie, really look at him. you look at him like he’s altering your world view, pulling away layers and layers of complex ideas, thoughts, and opinions. his brain isn’t like yours. it’s filled with never ending patience and coolness, sewn together with the raw emotions of life’s worst moments. he’s forgiven you, without a second thought, for running away and ignoring him for weeks. are you friends again?

“okay,” you mumble and wiggle around until the mattress contorts to the shape of your form. you lick your lips and continue to stare at him like he’s altered your entire philosophy. it’s strange that the guilt is still present, although oddly enough its strange how it’s not as potent. it doesn’t feel as debilitating; you don’t feel like you’re suffocating under the harsh scrutiny of your lord and savior. instead, and only for a second, you consider the possibility that you’re staring at the most gracious in the flesh. the thought makes you scoff and shake your head at yourself, briefly alarmed that you’d even consider such a thing. “goodnight then, hobes.”

you don’t know what time it is when your eyes flutter open and peer into the darkness. you don’t remember falling asleep. in fact, the last thing you do remember is rolling over and staring at the wall, pacing your breathing until it followed a slow regime to lull you into unconscious. you don’t remember feeling tired and drifting off into sleep. the one thing you do remember, however, is hobie waking you up to ask if he could sleep next to you.

as usual, he was entirely respectful about it and left a pillow in between your bodies, working as the barrier to protect everyone’s personal space. you don’t fault him too much, anyway. the floors are too hard to willingly spend the rest of the night on comfortably, especially in your own room.

you head lulls to the side until you’re face to face with what you think is hobie. your eyes are slow to adjust to the lack of lighting but his breath is audible, soft and fanning over the pillow barrier between you. with the more time the passes, the clearer his distance facial

features become, although still muddied by darkness. your brain is able to connect the dots and visualize his peaceful expression in the gaps the darkness provides. 

he looks so . . . sweet. so pretty and even if no one can hear your thoughts, you’re still embarrassed to think it. he’s the prince of darkness, inviting you to brush gentle fingertips across his cheek. it’s not something you get a chance to think about, almost in a trance with hazy eyes. it makes him stir, eyeballs swirling beneath closed lids. your touch breaks him from his sleep, placidly. one moment, his chest rise and falls with each inhale and exhale. the next, he’s peering back at you with half closed lids and registering the surroundings he’s found himself in. “hm?”

it’s as if his voice, a soft hum, brings you out of your trance as if he’s snapped his fingers in front of your face. you yank your hand back with intent regret and humiliation. he caught you. “oh, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“mm,” his voice comes out gravely and still obviously under the influence of sleep. the back of his hand brushes against his eyes, knuckles digging into the corner. “did you poke me or somethin’?”

you don’t respond to his question. instead, you curl your lips into themselves as if leaving it hanging in the air would stall enough for him to forget. lucky enough, his ebbing exhaustion did half of the work for you. hobie doesn’t ask again, nor does he press for me. he’s too busy trying to understand the situation as a yawn escapes his lips.

his attention eventually settles on you once more. he doesn’t think you realize how close you are, leaning over the boundary to get a clear view of his face and a clear feel, too. there’s something in hobie that wants him to tease and poke and prod at you. he refrains though, only because it’s far too late in the night to become that active. it’s too quiet to start pestering you; the moment is too personal.

you both spend a minute with silent eye contact, prolonged and oddly intimate. it’s as if you have a conversation without even speaking a word, looking into the soul of the other. it renders you speechless. not a single word comes to mind when you’re laying close enough to see what seems to be an outline of an eyelash clinging onto his cheek. 

“this isn’t — we can’t do this.” hobie sighs under his breath with a shake of his head. he rolls onto his back. his palm comes to weigh heavy on his head, tugging downward. 

even you know what the problem is, unable to feign innocents and ask what he means. there’s tension; it’s palpable. of course it is when you’re so close to each other in such a small space. this setup would have been better had hobie slept on the floor but his aching bones would plead victim in the following morning.

you don’t know what to do, though. a piece of you wants you to throw whatever inhibitions you hold out the window. it’s become a pattern now. once the moon rises and you become in close proximity with your personal ultimate sin, everything you know becomes useless. your beliefs are casted into the back of your mind and you become ready to do whatever he asks. it’s not like the last time had no effect on you whatsoever. if anything, it opened your eyes to a world previously unknown.

you didn’t know fingers could feel that good before, much less it still worked if you did it yourself. nonetheless, it didn’t compare to hobie’s masterful experience. it’s been something you’ve often reminisced on often, so much so that you’ve considered praying for it again. you know better but you can’t help yourself, losing what will you had. 

“why not? we talked about it so it’s okay, now.” you know you’re lying through your teeth when you say it, yet you’re persistent. you’re already laser focused on the possibility of just a little excitement in your otherwise dull, rule following life. another night of hobie’s fingers down your pants and holding you on the tip of your toes. 

he shakes his head again, just as insistent not to do this as you are to do this. “y’know that’s not how this works. we can’t. you can’t. we know how this will end. you’ll get shy and ignore me again. i don’t think we should head down that path.”

your expression is concealed by the veil of darkness but the bed still dips when you sit up and redistribute your weight. you sit mermaid style, knees bent and supporting your new position with a hand pressed against the rather soft surface. this is a new side of you that not even you could have prepared yourself for. it’s a desperate side, a needy side that clicked into place so suddenly once put in such an ideal situation. “i won’t. we’ve already done it once and now i know what it’s like so it’s fine. technically, i’m way more experienced.”

it’s not that hobie doesn’t want to. he’d be happy to, excited to even. however, just like the last time, it’s him who has to be the one with restraint. it’s him with the power and charm to bend you as he pleases but hobie’s had enough experience to know that in the end, it’s possible that neither of you will be speaking shortly after this. does he really want to ruin a potential friendship right after reconnecting? “this is ridiculous. you said the same thing before. you said it would be fine and it wasn’t fine. i don’t want to do all that again.”

“i won’t. i promise i won’t. we don’t even have to do . . . the real thing. think of it as a teaching opportunity. would you rather i do it with someone i know has my best interests at heart or literally anyone else.” the words are leaving your lips before you can even think about it. they even taste absurd on your tongue, dripping in a viscous nectar, sweet and honey-like; it’s a precious rarity bestowed upon earth from the heavens.

“you’re going to drive me crazy.” hobie drawls lowly. there’s a moment where the possibility hangs high in the air — will he or will he not? his hand finds your arm and brushes the tips of his fingers along your skin. he can feel the goosebumps that prickle in his wake and it’s just not, if not more enticing. the right decision is to deny you; it’s obvious. yet, he just can’t. he can’t do it.

you, in all your needy innocence and purity, seated at the tips of his fingers and hanging on to every last word. you put too much trust in him. he knows you have this image of him you’ve conjured up. sure, you can trust him to protect you with his life and keep you somewhat sheltered to the bad things in life but in the end, hobie is hobie. he’s a man with a deep dark fantasy of ruining the perfect girl, turning her away from her views and forcing her to become drunk in him. when you’re sitting here tempting him with that sweet voice of yours, it all seems easier for his moral compass to become more and more misaligned. 

“fuck it, whatever. come here.” regardless of his debilitating ethics, his guiding hand that comes to cup your cheek and draw you nearer is just as gentle as you remember. it’s a touch that you’ve worked hard to bring back to the surface during those particularly lonely nights; you don’t even realize just how quickly you’re leaning into it and becoming passive in his presence. 

half your body is over his, a hand pressed into his chest. it’s a little awkward, the way you’re dangling off his side but all your focus is on the rhythmic dance your lips do together. it doesn’t last long anyway because hobie does all the adjusting for you, rolling onto his side and forcing you on yours. his thumb caressing your cheek, drawing small circles and gliding down the expanse of your face until he reaches his goal destination, holding your chin in his grasp.

he’s still setting the pace when his other hand hooks beneath the bend of your knee and pulls it over his waist. the fuzz of his pants pills the fabric of your leggings but it acts like a magnetic force that inclines you to get even closer. “what am i to do with you?” his words feel hot against your skin, melting his question into your nerves and leaving a permanent sensitivity to his touch.

your novicity is glaringly obvious when you’re already withering at the feeling of his lips against your neck, grazing down and across, covering as much of the open space as he could. his kisses are oddly sweet; they’re wet, leaving behind a thin gleaming layer of spit, but lacking any graze of his teeth. he’s still lapping at your skin when his hands have discarded their precious place and found a new solace, burning hot against your bare skin under your shirt. “you want me to this, you want me to do that. can’t even handle the consequences of your actions.”

your lips begins to tremble with such fervor, you’re forced to tuck it between your teeth. you don’t remember being this humiliated last time, or maybe you were. it’s hard to tell because your thoughts are quick to become hazy when his fingers find the fabric of your bra.

hobie, for one, wasn’t expecting it. the flash of confusion across his face goes unnoticed when he’s settled in the crook of your neck and he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on it, either, in fear it’ll break the moment. knowing you, you were probably too “good” to take it off, as if keeping it on was a sign of respect. or perhaps, it just seemed like the right thing to do in the presence of a man.

“that’s not true,” you say with only the slightest trevor in your voice. you can feel the clasp to your bra snapping apart. it hangs loose at your arms now and allows enough space for hobie to resume his conquest, slipping his hands underneath.

he chuckles when you gasp, so airy, right next to his ear. he pulls himself out the corner of your neck to look at you, to memorize each tweak of your lips and your eyes open wide and needy. he’s merely grabbed at your breasts, catching your hardened nipples between the webs of his fingers. “no? but you’re lyin’, bug. and you know what, lying is bad.” his chuckle turns into a grin, one that seems especially wicked when he’s rolling them between his fingers.

your open mouthed sigh gets lost behind your shirt tugged over your head with hobie’s assistance. “i’m not lying,” you insist but the guilt of your fib eats you away, nonetheless. you’re still pouting when you’ve pulled your arms out of your bra straps and leaving it to be discarded somewhere in the bed.

“mhm,” he hums, now eyeing your tits on display for him and begging to be sucked. it’s the only natural that he does as his urges want him to, cupping the bottom and flattening his tongue over your areola. by now, he’s rolled you onto your back and flicking his thumb over the other that’s been left otherwise untouched.

you cradle his hand between your hands, dragging your fingers along the coarse locs and into his scalp. you’re barely aware of what you’re doing, caught up in your nerves tingling beneath your skin. the sense is heightened when his teeth clamp down on the hardened bud and pulls. the pain is immediate and your back arches in response. however, the pleasure that follows is unexpected and sits just below the surface, piquing your curiosity and wanting him to do it again.

“poor thing. i really don’t know what to do with you,” hobie kisses your cleavage. he eyes you from his position below your head while his hands continue to explore your body, finding the soft flesh of your hips and massaging them. “everything’s too much for you. you’re not ready for the real thing. you can’t handle a cock yet, even if you’re begging for it.”

his demeanor is slow to change. you could have sworn hobie spent the last few minutes doting on you. there wasn’t a moment you considered his words had a harsher inclination. perhaps it had but you were too past relishing in the feeling of his attention. it was like watching someone transform into someone else, metamorphosis into a darker version of himself

you can’t help but acknowledge the shame that begins to flood over you at his words. they make you feel small, as if you’re not in control of your own body. you were bound to respond like this; it’s just your destiny. you will always gravitate towards hobie like a moth to a flame.

“stop it. don’t say things like that.” it’s not much to say but it’s all you can manage, cheeks rapidly heating up with an intense heat. your hands ever-so-sweet fall from the entanglement in his scalp and take their designated space on his shoulders.

“don’t say things like that?” hobie speaks with a lift in his voice, replicating the pitch of voice you decided to use with hands on your hips to roll you onto your back. you miss the way his eyebrow raises in the dark and the tug of his lips turn upwards. “what do you mean don’t say things like that? am i not supposed to say the word ‘cock’ when i suck on your sweet pussy?”

you crane your neck higher and higher the lower hobie slides his way down your body. you unintentionally tighten, drawing your muscles together. your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet each other. there’s almost a split second where the words are just ready to spill out of your lips. it would be yet another chastise, another moment where you mention your disdain for such vocabulary. you never get to it because hobie beats you to it. he interrupts you with a sly grin and a tongue sliding across the fabric of your pants. the material deepens into a darker shade of the light blue when his saliva sinks within and catches your clit.

it’s over your clothes and yet it feels so good, unlike anything before. not like before, when hobie had you strewn across your desk. although, this new adaptation is a bit more dull. his hands maintain his strong hold, although there isn’t much current need. there’s no attempt to pull away from you. you’re not at all wiggling about but instead, opening your legs wider to entice him a little more.

you gain a small squeeze from your actions and a chuckle that follows shortly after. hobie’s wordless response is enough, at least for him. he attaches his lips even more, circling around your clothed clit and sucking it through your clothes. his tastebuds are full of boring cotton but his sense of smell is delighted, inhaling you in your purest form with the intention of imprinting this memory in his head.

you whine and mewl and keen, voicing your somewhat opposition to your current position. it felt good, really, having his nose brush against your jeweled pearl biden behind the hilt of a hood. the most drunken part of you, intoxicated off the high of lust, nearly convinces you to lift a shaking hand in hobie’s direction with the intention of pulling your damp panties away from your skin.

it doesn’t get really far. if anything, the moment the elastic waistband brushes against the pads of your fingertips, the fabric is just out of reach again. your hand becomes trapped within hobie’s grip and rests against the sides of your thigh. he fixed you with a glare, or rather the gleam in his light-catching eyes do.

“don’t be a terror,” he mumbles while turning his head towards the soft flesh of your inner thigh. his mouth meet the skin is a soft kiss, teeth just barely grazing behind pillowed lips. “tell me what you want, hm? can’t be ruining the poor angel’s purity.”

before he’s able to finish his sentence, you’re already pouting at the ramifications of your impromptu decision. how dare he suggest you’re better off filling your mouth such dirty words when he could so easily go in what direction you’re clearly steering him towards. “you’re being mean,” you can’t help but fuss and have already begun to tug towards freedom.

your attempt gets you nowhere but in a tighter grip and less than subtle smirk. he doesn’t attempt to hide what malicious intent he may hold. “what do you mean, duck? i’m spoiling you. just tell me what you want.” the way he says it is so condescending, as if it’s absolutely not a big deal and you’re working yourself up. his large brown eyes feign an innocent expression when he hooks a finger on your panties to pull then to the side. “just ask me for it. isn’t that what you want?”

you watch through the darkness as hobie cranes himself just a little further. your pussy is already yearning for him, glittering with cream and revealed to him as a tempting dessert with tart icing. he opens his mouth, letting his tongue dripping in saliva just dangle over your wet cunt. “just ask me. ask me to eat this pussy ‘til you cum. say it.”

a thin line of spit drips from his tongue and gets lost in the whipped mess that is your arousal. it disappears in the milky slick that clings to your folds and you can whimper as though you can feel it searing your nerves.

how did you end up here? you’re trapped in a dance with the devil, fighting between your innate desires and the knowledge ingrained in you. your mouth has already gone dry from hanging open with no words to leave them. your heart pounds within your chest, thrumming behind your ribcage and making the situation all too real.

“ask me, dove. ‘pretty please eat my pussy’. that’s all you gotta do f’me.” his words are are vulgar as his grin, a perfect imitation of an archangel. his eyes fall towards your pearled clit, pulling the hood upwards with his thumb. it’s a soft touch but just as effective in revealing such sensitive skin to him. he can’t help but burble at the sight and lets his tongue dangle over your clit again. another droplet falls in place and you keen, just was before. 

“you want it so bad. i know you do. just look at the mess you made. say it. tell me you want it and i’ll give it to you. i’ll give you whatever you want. just have to ask me for it first.” he’s nearly begging for it, begging for you to lose your inhibitions and use him. or let him use you, whichever comes first. “tell me you want it. tell hobie you want it.”

it’s dizzying, almost. you can’t catch up, much less catch your breath. you’re not even sure why you’re winded. it’s not as though you’ve done anything and yet, every breath you take seems to dissipate before it reaches your lungs. this is cruel. it has to be a form of punishment. illegal even, to force such words into your mouth. still, there’s some sort of morbid thrill that comes from it, like this opportunity is a flame in the dark, flickering and taunting you with its warmth. “i – i want you to eat my . . . pussy.”

it’s much slower than you anticipate, the onslaught feeling of his lips circling around your clit and suckling on your watery essence. regardless, the feeling is all the same and results in your legs attempting to clamp shut around his head. it’s a knee jerk reaction that earns you a muffled grumble and two large hands placed firmly on the backs of your thigh. the hold is advantageous in pushing them away from his ears and towards yours. 

it’s a simple impulse and yet, it sends fresh adrenaline pumping through your veins. your newly freed hand buries itself in the coarse mix of hair atop hobie’s head. he’s just as receptive to your touch as you are to his, murmuring vibrations against your skin in a deepened hum. it does a number on your sensitive cunt, sending you back to be pressed into the less than comforting mattress. you’ve gathered fist-fulls of hobie’s hair. the feeling grounds you, just enough to keep your sanity from floating away into the pillowy clouds of your imagination.

you can hear his lips wrapped up in your wet walls just as much as you can feel his tongue prodding your insides. he somehow manages to find every cavernous corner within an inch of reach, swallowing each drop of arousal you have to offer. you cry and whine a shaky mixture of “hobie” and “please” over and over again. the words drip from your mouth like a mantra, a lewd prayer that only he can fulfill.

it doesn’t compare to the first time he’s done this, not at all. gentle hands have turned into harsh clutches, fingers digging into your skin. there is less reassurance this time, no soft words exchanged between the two of you past your muted murmurs and his occasional drag of air when his lips leave you. the strangest part of it all is that you’re gushing, far more than you were when he took his sweet time with you.

perhaps this is what you needed all along. this is what you really wanted. a twisted side of you really wanted this. behind the good girl facade, what you really want is a silver-tongued devil to bring you to the precipice of your existence. it just happens to be a mere coincidence that the brink is a blinding orgasm that steals your breath and sends your lurching. 

you could say your body began to fight against it, warning you with a tingling sensation that began in the pit of your tummy. it radiates throughout your limbs from there, causing your toes to curl and your hands to circle into tighter fists. you release your hold on hobie’s hair and trade it for the sheets instead. the fabric becomes wrapped and disheveled between your fingertips. you could have warned him, putting a little more effort into getting some lucid words out, but the moment you open your mouth, it’s all incoherent jumble.

hobie doesn’t seem to mind your wordless state. in fact, he gains a sort of ego boost from it by pulling away, ruining your orgasm into a vapid release, all while watching your needy hole wink at him in dissatisfaction. “greedy, greedy girl. what did i say? tell me what you want, hm?” it’s as if you’re not there, merely an extension of your pretty cunt all on display for him. he lays eye-level with it, fascinated by the infinite watery slurry seeping out.

hobie likes to think you were begging for it when he languidly slaps a hot palm on your pussy. he even has a smile across his face and remedies the slight pain by rubbing his hand across your folds. your previous cum provides a glow he’s never seen before. a sweet dewiness handpicked from handspun gold and liquefied into a nectar just for you. “i’ll give you anything, treacle. anything. just ask me for it, would you?”

in hobie’s head, in his depraved mind, this is for him as it is for you. maybe the real reason he was so hesitant to go down this road is because he knew what it would have meant. this very moment signifies the beginning of the end, the moment where every dark and carnivorous desire takes hold and he follows through with what he really wants . . . what hobie really wants.

to let darkness consume and devour you whole, snuffling out your halo until you’re standing in the abyss, illuminated by a single flame. him.

[smallidarityfan]

this is my first ever ask hi I just wanted to say.. u shared that adorable teleporting clip of scar and pearl & Ive been thinking about them ever since!!!!....... & I know this is a smallidarity account but you've infected me so if you have any more scearl thoughts in that large brain of yours. me personally. I am all ears ^__^ ^___^ ^____^

JAHSHS HI im very honoured to claim your first ask and also sorry for replying to this after months 😭 tbh I just wanted an excuse to show this art I made of them like 2 years ago that i recoloured recently

anyways thoughts:

I watched both their POVs since the start of Season 8 to season 9 and loved their vibe of messy, ambitious architect x bright and passionate artist and caretaker?

( character rant ahead )

In Season 9 to me, Scar is this stressed out architect trying to envision his ambitious dream for his theme park within the limited timeframe of the season. He struggles taking care of himself staying up for projects and inevitably leaves messes around the place (chest monsters and lack of proper base lighting)

Even before the sudden light into his world, Scar already admired Pearl's work as an artist— frequently going to her base just to admire what she's done— and now this amazing artist was here at his theme park working as his designated cleaning lady, as someone who doesn't mind the crummy pay of 64 diamonds per week he was only able to offer...

And then Pearl comes around and decides to offer her cleaning lady services to lift his stresses yk? She offers to help him organize his chests, to clean up the area, and to teach him how to take care of himself again. Scar was appalled by that care since nobody really took that time for him, yet slowly melts into it yk?

Haven't even gotten into the life series aspect of their relationship GOSHHHH with the whole sunflower thing AGHDGGDHSD

In Double Life, there should be something said about how Scar was able to understand Pearl's loneliness after Scar's Magical Mountain in Last Life... and especially how they both loved their soulmates in Last Life/3rd Life before they abandoned them in the series about soulmates.....

And then Secret Life.... Secret task: Be Pearl's Wingman.............. "What's going on here Sunflower?"................ "If there's one thing I learnt, Pearl, is that no alliance is ever sacred." "*chuckle* Y'know what Scar, you're growing on me."............... Scar having to choose a side between Scott or Pearl and decided to side with Pearl..................... She's dead Scar, you won..............

IM ACTUALLY CRAZY

In my head, nearing the end of Secret Life is when they both already internalized their feelings but of course so close yet so far due to their own griefs (Pearl specifically with the Mounders and her failure of sacrificing herself for them. AND MAKES IT UP BY OFFERING HERSELF TO SCAR........) to ever pronounce it to each other and now Life!Series Scar lives with that grief within him forever CANONICALLY....... BECAUSE HE ISN'T DEAD........ STILL IN THAT FREAKING SUNFLOWER FIELD........................ GAHHHHHH

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 7

I know, I know. I put out a chapter recently for this one. But it was the closest to being done after my elbow started feeling better so it got to go first.

In case anyone was curious, this is the song that the title is based on. It's from the musical The Scarlet Pimpernel and it's about the lead, Sir Percival Blankney trying to get his friends to help rescue nobles in France during the French Revolution.

Steve is going to have a very rough go of it for the next couple of chapters. but we're nearing the third season so that should be fun (it might get glossed over a bit for the sake of this story's plot, as it's more about Eddie and Steve then the events of the show).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

****

Steve was taking a break from doing homework to work on his next comic. This one was a little bit more dangerous to put to paper in the sense that even the dumbest agent would immediately know what he was referencing. Well maybe not immediately, but definitely by the end.

But to the people who didn’t know that underneath their feet was this massive alternate dimension filled with murderous monsters? It was the easiest to hide. Giant wolves in a junkyard? The spunky new character who had more sass in her pinkie than the entire rest of the Party combined and considering Dustin was in this one, that was saying something.

He was lettering his favorite exchange between Max and Dustin. Her calling Steve insane and Dustin saying that he was awesome.

He could be both.

Really, all he needed to do was finish up the lettering and he would done. Then he could actually give it to Eddie and not chicken out this time.

Last time, he had brought it over to show Eddie, but had gotten cold feet at the last minute. Not that it had mattered, the ever loving idiot that he was had left it at the trailer anyway.

He already had his note to Eddie explaining the real events behind the comic on the back. Again with the instruction to do away with that page after he had read it.

He really, really didn’t want either of them in trouble with the Feds.

Steve looked up at the clock and sighed. If he wanted to get his homework done, he’d have to get back to it. He knew he really didn’t have to work that hard, having graduation in the bag, but he couldn’t help try anyway.

Plus at least two of his teachers had threatened to prevent any student who slacked off in class from walking in graduation. And he didn’t doubt that a least two others would do it, too, they just hadn’t said the quiet part out loud.

He put aside his comic and pulled his history book closer to him. He sighed again when he saw that he had barely done two questions. He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes and rubbed them.

He could do this.

****

Steve had been invited to a couple of graduation parties, one from a couple drama geek friends and another from Lyle on the swim team. Was even hosting one of his own.

Thankfully none of the were on the same night and he could do all three. Eddie wasn’t going to any of the ones he’d been invited to. Including Steve’s.

And as much as that hurt, Steve understood. He didn’t think that he could stand there with people graduating, knowing that he wasn’t going to be on that stage with them.

****

Marty, Janice, and Steve were all standing in the corner at the drama club party, drinks in hand and wishing to be anywhere but there.

“I’m just saying,” Steve muttered for the tenth time since he got there, “that we pick up Eddie and some real booze, drive out to the quarry and get proper shitfaced.”

Marty rolled his eyes. “So you keep saying. But I can’t if my parents find out I’ve ditched the party, I’ll be grounded until I go to college.”

He took a sip of his punch and winced. It wasn’t even alcoholic. It was Sprite and Kool-aid. Lime Kool-aid, no less. With lemon/lime soda? At least use it to spike cherry or some shit.

Janice suddenly ducked behind Steve and hid her face into his back. “Shit, it’s Tammy Thompson.”

Tammy walked up to Steve and Marty.

“Hey, guys,” she said cheerfully. “Glad you two could make. I heard Janice was going to come, have either of you two fine fellas seen her? I wanted to talked to her about where’s she going to college, just to see about what her prospects were.”

Marty and Steve shared a glance and then Steve frowned.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, “she did stop to chat with us briefly, but then she moved on.”

Tammy pouted. “Well thank you anyway.”

She wandered off and Janice hissed, “So you could degrade them and make sure not to apply there, because they were beneath you, you hell beast.”

Marty snorted.

Steve just shook his head. He dumped his almost full plastic cup into a nearby garbage. “You guys can stay here if you want, but I’m out of here. I’ve been to some pretty lame parties, but this one takes the cake.”

“I’m with you there,” Janice agreed. “How about you Mart? You coming?”

Marty winced again and looked around. The music wasn’t loud enough to be heard and they were standing pretty close to the speakers. The food was just chips and store bought cookies. The drink was nasty as hell.

“Come on,” Steve said gently tapping Marty’s elbow. “At least let me give you a ride home.”

Marty deflated and tossed his cup in after Steve’s. “You’ve got me there, man. Yeah. Let’s go.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

He led the way out to his bimmer and went to go dig out his keys out of his pocket when he was spun around roughly.

“Hey!” Janice cried.

Steve gulped. He was looking into the very furious and drunk face of Kyle Carver.

The asshole who had tried to sabotage Steve’s performance as Thomson in the school play by dumping water all over him.

He had been expelled and no doubt blamed Steve for that.

“It should have been me!” Kyle screamed in his face. “You ruined my life Harrington! You’ll pay! I’ll see to that!”

Then he took a swing at Steve. Steve managed to move to the side enough to have Kyle miss, but it was a near thing. He pushed Kyle’s chest.

“Back off, man!” he growled. “You ruined your own fucking life. You cheated on the audition, you tried to dump water all over me because you couldn’t get over the fact that I’m just better than you.”

He turned around to get into the car, but Kyle slammed his head into roof of the car. Marty and Janice screamed, hurrying to get over on the other side of the car.

Steve turned around and touched his forehead. His finger came away with blood. “You’re going to regret that, Carver.”

Kyle scoffed. “Billy told the team what an absolute pussy you are, Harrington. You couldn’t fight your way out a paper bag now that you don’t have that freak Munson around as your guard dog.”

Before Marty or Janice could stop him, Steve swung with everything he had.

CRACK!

Kyle stiffened like a board and went down.

Marty and Janice skidded to a stop to look down at the now unconscious Kyle Carver.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Marty asked in awe.

Steve wiped the blood off his forehead and spat on Carver. “What I should have done from the beginning. Take those assholes out. I was just afraid of what my dad would if I was caught fighting again after the incident with Byers.”

He gestured to Marty. “Come on, help me get this idiot off the side of the road.”

Steve lifted under his arms, while Marty and Janice moved him off onto the grass.

A passing sophomore saw them and made to open his mouth to scream.

“Hey, hey,” Steve said softly. “He’s just had a little too much to drink and hit his head. So why don’t you keep an eye on him for us.”

The sophomore nodded and the three of them slipped into Steve’s car, Janice at the wheel.

****

Eddie opened his trailer door and looked down at the trio of them getting out of Steve’s car.

“And just what did you two do to my boyfriend?”

Janice laughed and waved her hand at Steve’s smeared with blood forehead with a grin. “This? Oh this is nothing. You should see the other guy.”

Eddie sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What other guy?”

“Kyle Carver tried to get in Steve’s face and smashed his head onto the roof of the bimmer. So Steve here, just turns around and lays him out flat. It’s a good thing I could tell he was breathing, because holy shit, did Kyle go down hard.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve shrugged. “It’s the reason I don’t get into fights. I don’t know my own strength.”

The other three looked at him in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Get your ass in here,” Eddie huffed. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Steve, Marty, and Janice made it up the steps and Eddie held open the door for them to all file through.

Steve sat down on a kitchen chair so Eddie could have a look at him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, sweetheart,” he murmured on his way to the bathroom.

He came out moments later with a large first aid kit and a damp wash cloth.

“Wow,” Steve said as Eddie set the kit on the counter. “You’re med kit is almost as impressive as mine.”

Wayne, who had been sitting on his recliner this whole time, snickered. “Eddie was very accident prone when he first hit puberty. All limbs and no idea where to put them. Plus, the bullying. I got the best I could afford just to keep up on it all.”

Eddie blushed a deep red as he wiped off Steve’s forehead. “The cut isn’t that bad, head wounds just bleed a lot. You’ll get more of a bruise than anything else.”

Steve nodded.

“I get why Eddie has an extensive med kit,” Marty huffed. “But why do you have an extensive med kit, Steve?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “I babysit six barely teenagers. One plays basketball and another skateboards. Plus, there’s Dustin who is just a walking disaster because he always has to be right and has absolutely no fucks to give to his general surroundings.”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. That was a really good description of Dustin if he was honest. He liked the kid. He did. But low wisdom and high intelligence made for quite the disaster.

Janice nodded. “Yeah. I could see that. My little brother rollerskates and he is a menace on wheels I swear to god.”

Eddie finished putting on the band-aid and then kissed Steve forehead better.

“I’m sorry Carver was an ass,” he said packing away the first aid kit. “But I’m glad you won.”

“Steve told some kid to watch Carver because he was drunk and passed out,” Janice said gleefully. “So even if he does remember the encounter he knows he can’t say shit because then he’d have to admit to assaulting Steve first.”

Eddie kissed Steve again, this time on the cheek. “My super clever boyfriend.”

Wayne grunted as he got to his feet. “Come on, Marty and Janice,” he muttered. “I’ll take you home. I don’t trust this idiot to drive.”

“Hey!” Steve and Eddie protested together.

Wayne just shook his head as if they proved his point.

Janice and Marty said their goodbyes and followed Wayne out.

“Let’s get you some aspirin and into bed, darlin’,” Eddie cooed.

Steve nodded and followed Eddie into the bedroom.

He stripped down to his underwear and climbed under the covers. As he drifted off, he smiled softly to himself. It was nice to be taken care of for a change.

Just before he fell into a deep sleep, he felt a warm hand card through his hair and a soft kiss on his hair.

“Sleep well, Stevie.”

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

In case you guys don't remember, Kyle is the one that got suspended when he tried sabotage Steve's performance as Sec. Thomson in the musical 1776.

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[melinoelliones]

You had just watched Ellie lock lips with Dina from across the room, what to do now....

MINORS DNI/AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ANTI DC DNI/18+

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Warnings: Strap-On, rough sex, jealousy/toxic (kinda), cursing, drugs and alcohol, no prep!! Fem Reader

1.9k words

This is a little off character but BARE WITH ME, PLEASE IM A STAR I PROMISE! I’M A ELLIE LOVER!! MAJOR ELLIE LOVER!!!!!

“No way? There’s no fucking way?” you growled, watching the girl you were semi-dating kiss Dina. What was even going on here? One second you were on a couch smoking with a friend, the next you were face to face with the unimaginable.

Tonight was the night of the big party at the base, you were all very much under the influence but the vibes were perfect, until just then that is. You both had even come to the party together, Ellie had only got up to grab you a drink, now she was kissing her friend in front of your eyes. 

“I’m surprised she’d do that to you honestly, I wouldn’t let that slide” your friend chimed in, a hidden grin on her face as she picked back up her drink, her eyebrows high almost coaxing you to “do something about it”. What could you do, you guys weren’t even a proper couple. 

As you questioned yourself as to if you should leave, Jesse strolled past, taking a seat in Ellies original spot which had probably gone cold due to how long she was with Dina at the kitchen island. 

“What’s up? You seem a little low, did the weed hit ya or did you see that scene in the kitchen?” he chuckled awkwardly, nudging you softly, “oh so you saw that– guess we are both in the same boat then”, you exhaled, shifting your weight onto him, hand resting on his thigh unintentionally.

“Guess so, I’m not even sure how to react right now, didn’t expect that at all considering what me and Dina were just upstairs doi~ err I mean since we’re together”, “yh THAT’S what you meant to say” you rolled your eyes jokingly, leaning closer into Jesse as you sighed. 

“Yeah…. Well I think this is my queue to leave”, before you could even turn to your friend who had just abruptly gotten up, you and Jesse both slipped back, him now towering over you on the coach as your back hit the arm.

“Ah fuck, sorry I was leaning on her with my full body weight” you spluttered, face heating up from the embarrassment, he was so close to you, his face merely a few inches from yours, “aha no you’re good, I got no balance myself” he admitted, his eyes scanning every inch of yours. Maybe it was because you were both under the influence but it felt like the entire interaction lasted minutes whereas in reality it was a few seconds, even as these thoughts ran through your brain you were both still in the same position.

“I erm, sorry let me help you”, “t~thanks Jesse ” you replied, his arm pulling you up by your waist. Just as you were about to let him move his hand you felt a fiery presence, and it didn't take a scientist to figure out exactly who it was.

Glancing up, you could see Ellie, cup in hand accompanied by a scowl like thunder planted on her face, “What are you doing?”. “It’s not what it looks li~” “No one was talking to you Jesse ” she sneered, eyes never leaving yours. “Are you for real right now?”, a smile of utter shock emerging on your face as you scoffed, “this isn’t funny, at all really.”

Was she really getting mad right now as if she wasn’t tongue deep in her friend's mouth like 5 minutes ago? You hadn’t even done anything, yeah maybe you shouldn’t have been so up close with Jesse but at least you didn’t kiss this guy, and the position you were both in was a total accident anyway. 

Jesse silently yet stiffly shuffled away as you continued to have what almost felt like a staring contest with the girl, her anger rising every second but you refused to back down. “We are leaving…. now”, she demanded, grabbing your arm to make sure you followed behind.

As mad as she was, you could feel how soft her touch was with you however the urgency was still there. You followed in silence as you both left the party and headed towards her house, you could almost hear her muttering to herself as you reached her door.

Strolling through with absolutely to care in the world she slammed the door behind you, her cold stare almost piercing through your back. “So that’s how it is huh, I leave for 5 minutes and you go about getting all cozy with Jesse?”.

What was she talking about? He was just holding your waist, she was kissing a whole other woman. Your mind couldn’t even really comprehend what was going on due to your anger and the drugs. 

“So now I can’t be close to boy friends?”, “What is up with you tonight, we were fine when we got there” she asked, still facing your back as you refused to face her. “What’s up with ME? You kissed a whole woman in front of my face, am I supposed to sit there and be chill about it?”, you spat, taking a few steps towards her bed. 

“What are you talki~ OH you saw that? Is that really why you’re acting this way? Grow up”

“The fuck you mean, grow up? Who do you think you’re talking t~”, Ellie cut you off as you tried to finish your sentence, pushing you back harshly onto the bed.

“Are you jealous? Maybe even upset that Dina got the first kiss of the night perhaps?” Ellie snickered, her body hovering above, her face barely centimetres from yours. You had to admit, being under her always had an effect on you, even while pissed off she was hot.

“Far from it, but it seemed like you looked a little jealous when Jesse was sitting with me, his arm around my waist while our bodi~”, you teased before Ellie cut you off, her cold lips catching you by surprise as you attempted to follow her rough rhythm.

You watched as Ellie broke the kiss angrily whilst attempting to catch your own breath, the taste of the alcohol she drank lingering in your mouth, “God you’re so annoying when you try to piss me off, but fuck you look so good doing it” she groaned, sauntering over to her drawers, rummaging through them with no rhyme or reason. 

Just as you attempted to get up you were met with her face once again, this time a harsher expression spread across her face. “Is this what you wanted huh? First you dress all skimpy to our friend's party, then you get all up close with a guy you don’t even like. It’s almost like you set out to make me jealous from the start” Ellie spat, the venom of her words just rolling off the tongue as she unbuckled her jeans, your body almost tingling from the narcotics.

“But if you really wanna know I had hoped you wouldn’t see that. Dina was super drunk, I was helping her sober up and when I went to grab you a drink she kissed me. I’m going to assume you immediately stopped watching though as you missed the part where I pushed her away and cussed her out”.

She’s not wrong, you had stopped looking after you saw the kiss, that girl's tongue in her mouth was enough to make you want to hurl, but wow you now felt silly. She scoffed, her eyes never even bothering to meet yours, as she began to attach one of the largest straps she owned to the already tightened harness she had been wearing the whole night under her jeans. 

“Oh, I apologise, I didn’t even realise”, you sympathised, attempting to get up before Ellie pulled your legs to her waist, your skirt landing on your stomach putting your lower half on show, your soaked underwear earning a slight groan from her. “Nuh uh, where do you think you’re going?”.

“I may forgive you but I’ll still give you what you deserve” the girl groaned, running her calloused hands against your side “and what do I deserv~ ah fuck Ellie” you hissed, your body jolsting backwards as pushed past your underwear and into your sopping core, the strap disappearing completely inside of you. 

“Atta girl, you got it, so fucking wet for me already” She grinned, letting your walls adjust to the size, all your words slowly coming back to you. “P~Please Ell”, “Please what baby? Use your words” Ellie purred leaving a trail of small kisses along your neck, your needy body twitching with every one. “Please f~fuck me” you answered as she pulled up one of your thighs to open you up.

“That’s what I like to hear, of course I will” the girl smirked, crashing her lips back into yours as she rode her hips into yours, allowing the crown to kiss your sweet spot with precision, she didn’t want you to lose yourself too fast. With every thrust she swallowed down your sweet moans and curses, every stride feeling like pure heaven due to the drugs effects, her free hand caressing your cheek.

“F~Feels so good” you choked out, the strap filling every inch of you, “I know baby, it's a-almost like I can feel you clenching around this thing” she grunted, her strides losing momentum ever so slightly as the fabric from the harness grinded against her needy clit.

Nothing but pants and moans filled the air, both of you feeding off of the anger and jealousy that was radiating off of one another. “Ellie, I~I’m so close, please” you sobbed, the coil in your stomach as tight as could be, “already?” she laughed, your furrowed eyebrows telling her everything she needed to know.

“C’mon then, cum for me baby” she cooed, eyes focused on you as she rutted into you with full force. Her momentum slowing down as you grabbed her closer, lapping your lips across one anothers whilst you pulled her waist into you with your legs around her waist taking the entire strap, “you want me that bad” she joked biting your lip resulting in another moan from you whilst you came.

Your hips rocked back and forth as your walls tightened around the strap riding out your orgasm, the burn in your stomach cooling down as Ellie groaned, reaching her own high as the rigid harness straps tightened allowing her swollen clit to continue rubbing against it harshly.

“F~Fuck babe, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to keep standing” the girl jested, her legs trembling as you untied yours from her waist, your body breathless whilst she slowly pulled out making sure to take in the sight of her now white coated strap. 

“Wanna clean it off for me?” she hinted, sitting you up and lowering the dripping cock to your lips as you stuck your tongue out with a nod. “Good girl, just like that” Ellie whispered, a smug look on her face as she watched your tongue lap the length of it, cleaning it off just as she wanted before letting it drop to the floor. 

“Now c’mere baby” the girl smiled, pulling you into another kiss, the taste of you in her mouth returning her on ever so slightly. The night may be in full swing but it was just the beginning for you both, after all the drama all Ellie wanted was you to herself, and she had full intentions of showing you exactly that.