#HOW??? HOW IS HE MAKING THIS EIGHTIES STYLE LOOK GOOD?

[morose-melodies]

that's what the article said, anyway | yandere! childe/ajax x f! reader

summary: ajax got a bit too engrossed in buzzfeed quizzes and articles telling him how to pull... it seems he can't think for himself anymore

content warning: childe being a weirdo

a/n: IM SO RUSTY I miss my old writing style sm :((

there was an eighty-six percent chance that ajax liked you.

and a one hundred percent chance that you like him back.

that's what the online quiz 'do you have a crush on your friend? made by a female. 100% accuracy' said anyway, so it must be true, it's gotta be.

he'd lay it on thick with you tomorrow- woo you, make you confess your undying attraction to him because that's what the follow-up article 'how to get your crush to want you. made by a female. 100% chance of success' said he should do.

he had a plan.

...

ajax got to school a bit earlier than usual.

phase one of his plan? walk to class with you and potentially hold your bag for you, to show you he was the sort of man you'd want in your life.

he was sort of hiding around a corner, waiting for you to enter the front door, then, he'd casually approach you and make good conversation with you as the two of you walked to class together.

the door opened, and ajax perked up, peeking around the corner... just to see some guy entering.

he sighed, pressing his back against the wall he hid behind. he could feel his heart beating at an oddly fast pace- he had to be cool, or else you'd think he was a total loser who didn't understand women.

but he understood women- he understood them well, too. after all, he read the 'all about women' article three times over while eating breakfast this morning.

at this point, he probably understood you better than you understood yourself.

the door opened again, this time, it was you.

ajax gripped at the strap of his book bag, as he walked from around the corner and towards you, "hey- you're here pretty early."

"yeah."

yeah, that's all? ajax swallowed, his grip on the strap tightened, "you planning on running for class president?"

"nope."

you kept walking! you didn't even stop to pay attention to the conversation. ajax followed after you, "huh, I was thinkin' of running. would you vote for me if i did?"

"I don't know."

were you walking faster!? oh gosh...

ajax sped up after you, grabbing the back of your book bag, "hey, I'll hold your bag for you. we can walk to class together, right?" he was laying it in thick, just like he said it would! women liked assertive men- that's what the article said.

"what- no, I'm fine."

ajax slowly released your bookbag and stopped following you altogether. you're fine? he didn't believe it, not even for a moment. you must be having a bad morning or something. he'd make you feel better, he knew he could.

so he went to class instead and sat down at his desk, which was conveniently beside yours- not exactly, considering he's liked you for a while now and asked his teacher for the desk beside you.

he waited and waited for you.

until you finally got to class. you sat down at your desk, casting a small glance at him before settling down.

ajax tapped his pencil against his desk, occasionally glancing at you for long seconds.

and of course, you took note of this, and soon enough, you were annoyed. "hey," you whispered to him.

"huh?" ajax perked up. you were starting a conversation with him? he stifled a grin.

"do you need something?"

"what was that? huh... oh, no."

"then stop looking at me."

oh.

ajax slumped down in his seat, covering his eyes. his heart was pounding so hard against his chest, he had been so excited that you spoke to him! only for you to tell him off??

you were super stubborn.

Well, onto phase two, it was. buying you lunch and gaining your favor.

so, when lunchtime was near, ajax left class early. women liked food, that's what the article said, so, you'd be real grateful for this, wouldn't you?

he bought himself lunch and scoffed it down before you got to the cafeteria. he got up and approached you when he saw you enter, "lunch on me, okay?"

this had to work, right?

"okay," you nodded at him and got your money's worth of lunch - it was more than you'd usually get; ajax knew that, but maybe you were extra hungry today.

when you went to sit down, he followed after you and sat across from you.

whatever doubt he felt towards that article faded as he watched you eat, chin in the palm of his hand - he was going to cherish this.

"uh..."

"huh?"

"you gonna keep staring at me while I eat?"

"sure, if you don't mind."

from the way you were glaring, ajax expected the worst but instead got nothing. you went back to eating.

ajax smiled - it was worth it, definitely worth it. getting to sit across from you was nice and being allowed to shamelessly watch you was even nicer.

he usually had to be sure you weren't watching before he even glanced at you.

man, was he getting rewarded today!

...

when school was over, the last phase of his plan was in play. he was going to walk you home and sneak a kiss in - women like unexpected kisses, that's what the article said, anyway.

ajax caught up to you as you left the building, his arm grazing yours as he walked at your side, "I'll walk you home, yeah?"

"no thank you."

"huh?" no way you said that not after everything! "c'mon, who's it hurting? let me walk you home, it'll be nice."

you walked slowly, looking at ajax, stifling a sigh, "what's with you? i don't even know... you've been bothering me all day."

his lips parted; he was ready to defend himself, to argue, but he was caught up in what you said. "bothering?" he echoed, his heart slowly sinking in his chest.

"yeah- like, you're being weird. I don't even know your name."

"you don't... know my-" ajax felt shame wash over him. of course you didn't know him as well as he knew you... of course, you didn't...

he'd been watching you for months, like a curios shadow. he was always there, even when you didn't know it.

"that's right... i, uh... must've mistook you for someone else-!" he didn't even believe his lie, "... some other pretty girl, probably. anyway, I'll get going!"

ajax quickly turned and walked in the opposite direction of you. his mind was fuzzy, he couldn't think a coherent thought - it felt as if his life was over.

he'd never get to be with you now... not after this.

what a horrible first impression you must have of him...

[stararch4ngelqueen]

A Compromise

—

Time Written - 12:44 p.m

Jason Todd/pregnantfem!reader

(Again, if you don’t like how rugged he looks, bite me)

“Y’know, sometimes you stink when you come back,” you say, making him both aware of your presence behind him, attempting some form of amusement to break the ice.

His fingers halt on the buckles on his gun harness upon hearing your voice, his back facing the doorway from where he sat on the bed. He doesn’t turn around, not moving in response to what you say. You hadn’t spoken much to him since the night before, and this is what you say?

Of course he knows he stinks. After every patrol, he reeks of wet dirt, filthy water from putrid puddles lining the alleyways, and blood. Or something similar with a rusty, metallic tinge, and that’s not exactly a clean scent.

Jason halted his actions, not sure how to answer that. Sure, maybe he’s not all that hygienic when he’s out on a mission, but that’s a normal thing right? That’s what he comes home for, for nice hot showers and time with his girl.

He grumbles silently to himself, knowing you only make such comments to annoy him. Given the tension between you both was a still little rough, maybe you weren’t as angry as before, given how you started talking to him again.

“Do I? Only sometimes?” He sounds oh so surprised whilst peeking a glance over his shoulder, a sheepish grin playing across his face. One that he couldn’t hold back when he sees you there, all ready for bed while he was gearing up for ‘work.’

“More like all the time, right?” he adds, his tone dripping with a light hint of sarcasm as he pulled his gloves on.

“A good eighty percent,” You muster up another comment, your fingers fiddling with your shirt.

"Eighty, Doll?" He sighs heavily, his arm crossed over his chest in mock distress over this. How he was choosing to act this way slightly caught you by surprise, given you had limited view of what he was doing.

Of course he wouldn’t admit it yet, but he had missed the way you would tease him about variously stupid things—your attitude was what he really enjoyed the most about you.

“So you’re saying I don’t smell about two out of ten times?” he counters confidently, gazing up as if in deep thought. “Not a horrible percentage. Not great though, either.”

A faint tongue click erupted from the front door, causing a tickle in the corner of his lip.

"Why not just say I always stink, huh?" he asks, his tone slightly playful, a faint smile growing his face.

"I guess I could take a bath, but.." Jason trails off, exaggerating his shrugging shoulders. "You do know I'm a guy, right? Baths aren't my thing."

You then scoff, rolling your eyes after his little arrogant display. How does Jason manage to be so frustrating with his undivided attempt at cocky humor?

“Sure, whatever.” You mumble, lightly settling a hand on your protruding stomach.

Jason stood from his perch on the edge of the bed, fully taking in your slouched stance along the doorway. Fresh out of a shower, hair styled for sleep, wearing a purposefully oversized shirt to accommodate your expanding bump you mindlessly nestled along your palm.

He sighs, unable to help feeling a little more guilty by the second. His gaze lingered along your bump, slightly chewing on the inner corner of his cheek.

“Fine, Fine. When I get back I’ll go take a damn bath.” He groans as if it’s a massive chore thrown on his shoulders while reaching for his jacket. “But only because you asked.”

“Jason,” you gruff, watching him put on another sly grin before adjusting the rest of his uniform, tugging his jacket over his shoulders.

"And I still think baths aren't necessary. Showers? Sure, soaps are a necessity. But baths? Complete waste of time."

“That’s not what I’m—“ you start, but ultimately stop and sigh.

His unnecessary ranting just proved he was sidetracking off the topic that hung over both your heads. The reason you both yelled at each other the entire night before he vanished from your sight. The reason you were left in an empty house until his usual return around six in the morning, but even then silence was the main music that filled the space.

Safety; the whole topic had been about Jason’s safety.

He knows you’re concerned every day he heads out the door each night. He knows you want him to be safe, or as safe as he can possibly manage whilst carrying two guns and a plethora of hidden knives on his person.

He remembers being so frustrated, so damn angry, though he even wasn’t sure what had brought it on. You weren’t even hostile when you sat down with him to talk about it, never raised your voice once until he did it first.

He remembered how much he wanted to make you understand that he has to be out there. Very very few people in Gotham do what Jason does, but truly, no one does exactly what he does.

Straightening yourself, you glance off to the side, fighting back an irritating groan before sighing in defeat.

“Look Jay, I’m not gonna push it.” You look him in the eyes, taking your genuine, honest approach, just like you had done before all hell had broken loose. “Just understand, I just want you to be more careful, okay? That’s all I wanted.”

Doing what he does never guarantees he comes home unscathed. His sides still ached from deep bruises along his ribs, a gash along his back was still tightly shut with dissolvable stitches. The clean cut along his lower right cheek was still secured with butterfly bandaids.

You only suggested he stayed home to rest. To recover, to heal. You never called him weak, though he was weak minded to take your words the wrong way.

“No, I get it,” Jason mumbles, his brow furling as he approaches, heavy combat boots creaking against the floor. “You’re right. About all of it.”

He wasn’t ashamed to admit it, despite the conflict rattling in his brain. It’s not just them anymore. The two of you’ve come so far together, your biggest worry was the two of you not being on the same page.

Jason moves a hand towards your stomach, gently rubbing his palm around the most precious part of of your body.

All he just wants is for you to understand that he’s not the same Jason he was all those years ago, not the Jason you remember. Not the man who allowed his anger to slaughter crime lords and take a role into a drug ring.

He’s much better than that. He struggles, yes, but he tries.

“I just want you and the baby to be safe,” He states, watching your brows soften with a slow nod.

“I know you do.” You whisper with understandable certainty. Not once did that doubt ever cross your mind, and it never will.

He can’t help but smile, his forehead resting against yours. So close together that your noses touch.

Now, last night feels like an eternity ago. Jason didn’t storm out of the house with a bubbling bottle of unfit rage, you didn’t cling to your phone and have trouble sleeping over his whereabouts throughout the night.

“You worry about me, babe. I appreciate that more than you can know.” He murmurs, exhaling softly through his nose. “But this is … think about this being another way I can take care of you. Of us, alright?”

You blink, swallowing slowly before nodding in acceptance. Your eyes flutter, the bottom of your throat slightly burning, but you maintain your composure.

Jason was going to keep doing what he does; continue being Red Hood, continue keeping you safe. That’s just the way it was going to have to be, even after the baby becomes a babbling bundle in your arms.

“You could just stay here tonight at least. Hang out with us instead,” you casually insist, raising a hand to stroke his uninjured cheek. “We can order in pizza, find something on Netflix. Cuddle under a thousand sherpa blankets.”

Jason exhales, tilting his head back with closed eyes.

What he would give to drop it all and commit to such a tempting suggestion. Really, he would.

If what he did wasn’t do damn important, if they didn’t live in such a crooked city, taking up your offer would be a lot better than a chest of ten grand abandoned on the street.

“Another time, princess. I can always make it up to you.” He smiles back down at you, settling both hands on each side of your hips.

“How do I smell, by the way?” he questions. “Because if I smell so bad you aren’t going to kiss me.”

Your response was to smile and playfully shove his shoulder, only for his hands to hold you closer, fingers squeezing your plush body.

“That’s mean, Mister Todd.”

He laughs, slowly leading to a snicker. “Don’t deny it—I know you.”

His voice lowers towards the end of his sentence, leaning closer to kiss you. With an additional squeeze, Jason feels your arms lock around the back of his neck in a warm embrace.

Your soft bump lightly pressed against his lower waist, nudging against the buckle of his gear belt. In a few more months, their growing baby would be putting physical distance between them, resorting in him picturing more intimate methods he could hug you as closely as possible.

A emphasizing reminder of his priorities for fighting crime nearly almost every night.

“I’m thinking it’ll be a boy,” you whisper, watching his head lower to settle against your shoulder, his gaze trailing straight down in between your bodies.

“Think he’ll wanna take after me?” He asks, heavy lidded eyes flickering up towards yours in question.

“Well, boy or girl, I would hope they have your eyes,” you reply, enjoying the warmth and comfort of him against you. Just having him close made your heartbeat relax, having you feel nearly good about life. Just for a minute.

“In attitude? I would absolutely think so.”

Jason smiles, returning his attention back towards your bump. He tries to make that thought more comforting, but he’s nervous and tense just as you are at the end of the day.

He hopes they turn out as warm as you are. Warm, comforting, happy and safe. A safety Jason adores every single time he comes back to you, a comfort that made him regret leaving you alone the other night.

You’re his weakness, and he knows it.

“You can make it up by bringing back pizza.” You suggest, hearing him snort.

“Doll, What kind of pizza place is open at five?”

You purse your lips. Valid point.

“I guess Benny’s will work,” you mumble, hands trailing over his shoulders. “Or you’re not allowed back in the house.”

A short smirk invades Jason’s face. He had to come home with a maple sausage breakfast sandwich from a local diner, or face the wrath of locked doors and windows.

Luckily for him, Benny’s opens at five in the morning. Four on weekends.

Jason exaggerates another exhale through his nose, thankful he didn’t slip on his mask as he spares a kiss on your right temple. Whatever you want, even if it was the keys to the Batmobile or the rights to a planet, it’s yours, as long as he gets to come home to you.

“I gotcha, mama.”

[luvsturniolo]

ー ★ !! STRANGER

pairing : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis : having been dared to kiss a random stranger, you're the first person matt choses to approach

a/n : guys ive been needing to write another fic so badly that i got this prompt off of pinterest and i'm completely winging it (this is a cry for help. pls send reqs bc i'm running low atm.)

i hate how this is written & this is prob the worst thing i've done on this app but i need to post something so ur gonna read it anyway !

wc : 2.5k

nick, matt, chris, nate, and madi are currently on an expidition to the mall. they hardly ever hang out as a complete group, so everyones moods are sky rocketed from the simple fact of them all being together. it honestly doesn't matter what they're buying or where they are. they'll all have smiles on their faces regardless.

"i'm surprised nick isn't trying to record a video right now." chris says as the group enters a random clothing store. "it's one of the very few times we're all together and everyone is in good moods. nick would normally take advantage of that."

"just say you want to record and move on." matt grumbles, walking over to one of the racks to flip through the t-shirts on display.

"i don't want to record! i was saying nick probably would!" chris tries to defend himself, earning weird looks from everyone due to this very clearly being a lie. chris lets out a sigh when he realizes that nobody is believing him. "whatever. i'm just saying that i don't think we should waste the opportunity to make good content. the fans love nate and madi."

"woww," madi says sarcastically, feigning offence, "you're just using us for content?"

"oh, shut up." chris replies, dramatically rolling his eyes at her teasing. madi giggles and takes a sip from the cup of lemonade she got from lunch earlier today at the food court. everyone else already finished their drinks, she's the only one with anything leftover from the meal.

"i didn't bring the camera anyway." nick says with a careless shrug, causing chris's jaw to drop with shock. "i wanted this hangout to be authentic. just everyone laughing and smiling together as a group. no cameras. no new friends. just us."

"since when did you ever leave the house without your camera?" chris asks him with his jaw still hung loose on its hinges. "it's practically glued to your bag at all times."

matt finds himself zoning out of the conversation as he looks around at the clothes. their argument about recording is only relevant to him if they decide that they are going to record. otherwise, it's unimportant and frankly quite boring. and now that nick admitted that he didn't even bring the camera, the conversation is no longer of interest to him.

they continue to stay near the front of the store, nick and chris arguing about the camera predicament while nate and madi laugh at them from the sidelines. but matt strays away from the group. he has about eighty bucks he brought with the intent on spending it all today. well, at least half of it or more. so he begins to get distracted with the task of finding new clothes to add to his wardrobe.

he made a mental note before leaving the house that he wants more hoodies since the weather is started to get colder. knowing this, he wanders over to the back of the store. he's been here enough to know that there's a rack of jackets and long-sleeved shirts in the right corner beside the employee exit door.

matt flips through the clothing. he wants more bright colors in his closet. most of his hoodies are black or dark grey. nick said that his wardrobe looks like a funeral home and he needs something more lively. but nothing here seems to catch his eye.

"need help finding anything?" a random female voice asks him. he turns to face the sound and sees a worker standing to his left. you. and lets just say you definitely catch his eye — unlike any of the clothes you're selling. he likes the style of your hair, the color of your eyes, the shape of your face, the bridge of your nose, all of it.

damn! matt's never been this whipped for a random stranger. it's normal for him to find random girls attractive in public, but something about you is making him unable to take his eyes away yours.

"okay? i'll take that as a no." you say before turning on your heel and leaving. as soon as you walk away, matt feels the urge to call out and stop you, but he doesn't know your name. he was too busy admiring you to read the tag on your uniform.

he lets out a sigh before walking back across the store and rejoining the group, his mood now soured completely. when he walks up to his brothers, nick turns around with a camera in his hand, recording.

"what the hell?" matt says. "i thought you didn't bring it."

"he lied so he didn't have to film." chris says with an eye roll. "but i didn't believe him. so i dug through his backpack and guess what! i found it sitting on the very top, fully charged."

matt just nods, not having anything to say to that. plus, now that he's in a bad mood it's be best to stay away from the camera so his bitchiness doesn't ruin the video. he feels guilty for being like this while everyone else has such high spirits, but he can't help it. he embarassed himself in front of the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. there's no coming back from that.

the group exits the store and they begin to wander around. they're looking for a sunglasses store for nate so he can buy a new pair seeing as he broke his last ones while leaning out of the window of the van. the slipped off of his face — never to be seen again. but nate claims he needed new glasses anyway due to how old and scathed those ones were.

"you okay?" nate asks. the fact that he noticed matt's fatigue takes him by surprise. matt wants to continue sulking in his soured mood, but when he looks at nate's genuine worried expression, he can't help but confide in his friend about the events from earlier.

matt tells him about how he was looking for a jacket when you approached him. you came up so casually as though it meant nothing to you, when it meant everything to him. matt describes you, accentuating your beauty to paint the picture as well as possible. he tells nate that he feels like he's being dramatic, but he can't help it. i mean, you're a complete stranger whose name he doesn't even know. and yet he can't take his mind off of your guys's short interaction.

"i wish i had some wise words of advice for you, but i don't." nate says. "but judging just by the way you talk about her, you need to get her number or something. i've literally never heard you talk about a girl like that. you're fuckin' whipped, man."

"i agree." matt says. "but how the hell am i supposed to get her number when she's a literal stranger? i don't know anything about her."

"you know where she works." nate points out.

matt thinks about this for a moment before deciding that nate's right. he knows where you work and that's more than knowing nothing. someones job says a lot about them — how much money they make, what means a lot to them, etc. i mean, he's not the type of guy who gives a shit about your income, but if he wanted to know something about you, he could easily find out a lot.

"lets buy your sunglasses." matt says, confidence slowly overtaking him now that he doesn't feel like this whole thing is hopeless. "then, we can all go get a snack at the food court so i have some motivation to go talk to her."

nate agrees and hurries to catch up with the rest of the group. matt does the same, rejoining everyone now that his mood is boosted once again. they go to the glasses store and nate picks out a pair that he likes. the whole time, matt is back to normal. everyone notices the shift in his demeanor, but they decide not to point it out.

after nate purchases the glasses he chose, matt tells nick that he's hungry. madi agrees with matt, saying she could eat something seeing as it's been a few hours since they had lunch. not thinking much of it, nick agrees to go to the food court.

"fuck." chris says, sitting in the plastic chair beside matt. "i didn't know they had mozzarella sticks! if i'd known that, i would've gotten them too!"

matt just shrugs, eating another bite with a smug look on his face. chris shoots him a glare and scoffs, turning back to his cheesy fries with a frown. just as chris is about to insult matt, nick and madi come over to the table with their food. nick is still carrying the camera around, filming everything for their next blog. most of what he's filming will be edited out, but he's still taking the footage just in case.

as they all begin eating their food, nate — who had been using the bathroom for the past few minutes — comes back with a slushy and a small grin. he sits on the other side of matt with a weird look on his face. matt gives him a strange look and nate just giggles and looks away.

"i'm bored guys." nate says. "we should play truth or dare."

"okay." chris agrees easily. but nick shakes his head, not thinking this is a good idea. but chris insists. "c'mon, it'll be good content. plus we're not gonna do any stupid dares that will get us in trouble or anything."

when matt and madi take chris's side, nick has no choice but to give in play the game. his only condition is that he gets to ask chris first, and he has to pick dare. chris agrees to his terms.

"i dare you to say yes to everything i ask for the rest of the day." nick tells him with a sarcastic smile. chris rolls his eyes, but has no choice but to do as he says.

"can i go next?" nate asks excitedly. it's supposed to be chris's turn next since he was the one who did the dare, but nick answers dow him. he nods, letting nate go ahead. and chris can't argue since he has to say yes to whatever nick wants. nate grins widely and continues. "matt, truth or dare."

"dare." matt says without hesitation.

"i dare you to kiss a random stranger." nate tells him with a grin. "they have to be in the food court, though."

"what the fuck type of dare is that?" nick shouts. "we're not bringing random stranger into this! plus, isn't that against some kind of law? kissing random people can't be fucking legal."

matt is about to agree with nick, saying it's a horrible idea. but he notices nate flicking his eyes back and forth between matt and someone over his shoulder, gesturing for him to look at them. matt turns around and follows nate's gaze to find you sitting alone at a table. you're wearing your work clothes, sipping on a smoothie while scrolling through your phone.

matt changes his mind in an instant. "it's my dare, nick, not yours. so fuck off and play the game like everyone else."

with that, matt stands up from his seat, causing the legs to scrape against the tiled floor beneath it. he awkwardly approaches you with a giddy smile. god, he feels like an idiot. he feels like he went back in time to when he was a child, getting nervous to talk to literally any girl on the playground.

he stands in front of your table and clears his throat to get your attention. you look up at him and raise a brow in confusion. "mind if i sit down?" he asks, pointing to the chair beside you.

"go ahead." you tell him. you're still confused about who this guy is as he sits down at your table. he's attractive and seems sweet, but who is- oh. as he runs a can through his hair, you remember who he is. "you're the guy from the store. you were the one who stared at me instead of answering."

matt feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment. that's not the first impression he wanted to make. but at least you remember him! it's better than you not knowing who he was at all.

plus, you're not talking to him in a weird way. you're smiling as though you find his awkwardness amusing rather than strange — which it is.

"that's me." he says. matt glances over his shoulder at his friends only to see that they're all staring at you guys intently. chris waves him on, urging him to hurry the hell up.

"they're nosy." you say with a laugh. "i'm assuming they're your friends. otherwise, i'd be extremely creeped out."

"uh, yeah." matt says, looking away from chris to refocus on you. fuck. every time he looks at you, he's taken aback by your beauty. like time seems to slow when you guys make eye contact. "listen, they sent me over here as a dare. i'm supposed to kiss you."

you laugh at him for a second. but then you realize he's not kidding. he's being serious. "god, take me on a date first." you tell him sarcastically. matt laughs, but is still pretty serious about the dare. you feel weird agreeing to kiss a stranger, but it'd be even weirder if you were to say no.

not to mention, the boy beside of you is insanely attractive. it wouldn't be such a bad thing to kiss something this hot. "i'll let you kiss me if you agree to give me your number afterward." you tell him.

"i would have asked for it anyway." matt says with a teasing smile. knowing you have an interest in him as well gave matt a boost in confidence. and you honestly think that his confidence makes him even more attractive.

he leans forward and you do the same. you were expecting a small smooch the way little kids kiss at recess, but this guy went all in. he places one hand on the back of your head to tangle through your hair while the other hand cupped your cheek. the kiss was passionate and needy. and you fucking loved it.

when he broke it to catch his breath, you felt deprived of something more. you were practically craving this guy you met only a few minutes ago.

matt smirked at you before you guys exchanged numbers. you were still distracted by the fact that you guys nearly made out in the middle of the food court to process what was going on. as your confidence left, his was refilled.

"i'll come back to your shop before i leave the mall." matt says. "maybe next time i'll actually catch your name before we make out in the storage room."

@kasqnxx @lvrsparadise @prettysturniolo @strniolo @urmyslxt @cupidsturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @thetriplets3 @sturn1olo-ffics @uhnanix @deadxrx @kitaysworld @lovelysturniolo @wilmalovegood @ladylokilaufeyson5 @sturniolopepsi @strnilolo @knowingnothingnoel @its-jennarose @lea0518 @slaysturniolo @sturnlover @tcvazq @ifilwtmfc @poopydroopt @cl0esblogg @ellaynaa @itzdarling

[annoyinglandmagazine]

So I did Classical Studies in secondary school which was a fairly obscure subject, there were only nine of us in the class and we were all super into it.

Just for context here I’m talking about the class I was in from first to third year, between the ages of 13 and 16 for people with different education systems. We read the Iliad as part of course and it was really dense and when I tell you none of us could hear the word simile today without flashbacks to notating pages after pages of Homer comparing the way people walked to lions……

Anyway, it was a nightmare to read but we loved it.

We came out of those three years having forgotten most of the history of the Roman Empire but we all knew that Paris was a little bitch good for nothing but his looks, Achilles and Patroclus were definitely gay, Achilles was also a little bitch but we love him for it, Hector and Andromache deserved better and, most importantly, Agamemnon was a complete and utter douchebag who deserved everything he got and Clytemnestra was absolutely right to stab him to death in a bathtub, seriously fuck that guy.

We were so invested in this subject that we finished the curriculum early two years in a row and each year our teacher decided that we could put on a play related to the subject to fill out the last two months or so.

Naturally we settled on Troy Story 1 and Troy Story 2 detailing the Birth of Paris through to Achilles returning Hector’s body to Priam in two 40 minute instalments.

Absolutely no one of the forty people who wandered in by accident to witness our work of art understood a single second of what was going on or why we were all restrained laughter at what was basically eighty minutes of obscure classics in jokes. It was glorious. I recently found the script and I wanted to share the chaos.

Highlights included:

Jesse’s Girl playing over Helen and Paris’ introduction while she’s married to Menelaus.

So much unnecessary use of the word bro. Just so much.

Zeus and Hera narrating while passive aggressively bickering for every second of it. The gods constantly saying ‘do you want to get involved in some human drama’ to rope each other in

The extreme dramatic build up to the use of the word dog

Agamemnon speaks like a frat boy the whole time, like the biggest douche ever.

Achilles lifting Hectors body and dragging it around in slo mo while we are the champions plays

Achilles watching the war from his blanket burrito while eating popcorn out of his helmet

The shepherd who found Paris on a mountainside holding him up while the Lion King music played over it

Achilles’ trashy blonde wig. I cannot stress enough how trashy and blonde this wig was. Also Achilles was deliberately cast as the shortest girl in the class (5’ 3).

Odysseus and Diomedes night mission had mission impossible music playing over it as we parkoured across the stage and peaked out behind curtains. They also have dialogue in which they constantly want to stab something

Paris never appears in the sequel but is dissed constantly

We couldn’t do any actual Patrochilles cause Catholic school but we settled for prolonged eye contact to My Heart Will Go On and long pauses after dramatic references to My Closest Companion

Achilles: I need my best bro friend! My life soulmate! My favourite cook!

Achilles in the tent with headphones on listening to All By Myself with mascara streaming down his face after Patroclus died

The facts that Agamemnon killed his daughter and Zeus and Hera are siblings is constantly just kind of dropped in with no context

Everyone’s costumes were mostly just lab coats tied over our shoulders with shared armour from the one girl that apparently had a closet full of Ancient Greek style plastic swords, helmets and breastplates.

We spent an entire class making a giant pink tv frame out of cardboard, paper and way too much sellotape for one joke that wasn’t even that funny. We named it Daniel.

Briseis was an American Girl doll.

The gods yelling at each other to try and pick teams and resulting in a slap fight with an announcement that it lasted 3 hours.

Thetis yelling encouragement from the side lines and calling Achilles her little crib lizard for some reason also she’s reading Song of Achilles in one of her scenes

[fictionadventurer]

Thoughts about A Biltmore Christmas that could drive me to write fanfiction (spoilers for everything):

The story of his death was a plan "we" concocted just in case. "We" suggests there were multiple people involved. My best guess is that Ava also saw Lucy disappear, and so she was primed to buy it when Jack told her this wild story of time travel.

Maybe the prop guy was involved, too? Repairing a magical time travel artifact has got to give you some insight into the existence of magical time travel.

I still thing that one bearded guy in the crew is a time traveler. He seems more casual about it. Time traveling to help a classic Hollywood film crew just for fun. He could help arrange things, too.

The story of how Jack managed not to get fired after helping a criminal escape against direct orders from the head of the studio.

About five minutes after Jack decides to stay in the future, Margaret stumbles upon them. Her shrieks of joy can be heard from space.

Lucy: Okay, Jack, time to fly back to Santa Monica....oh, wait, you have no ID. /Margaret, somehow making a facial expression that is the equivalent of fifty-seven ecstatic emojis all at once: ROAD TRIP!!!!!!!!!

Lucy: Excuse me, Mr. Tour Guide Riker, sir, I have a film star from 1948 here what do I do with him, please?/ Mr. Tour Guide Riker, handing her a manila envelope: Here are all necessary identification documents to set him up in a modern life. Please ask no questions.

(I know what Tour Guide Riker's name is. Tour Guide Riker is funnier).

Alternately, the thrilling legal battle of trying to get Jack some documentation, the same way that kids whose parents don't get them birth certificates have to.

Lucy comes home to her sister, trailed by the 1948 actor from the film they've watched multiple times a year since they were kids. Lots of freaking out happens.

Jack, who has trained as an actor in an extremely outdated style, struggles to find a job not only because of his dubious legal documentation, but also because he has zero marketable skills. With the same happy-go-lucky pluck that led him to travel eighty years into the future for the sake of a girl he'd known for a couple days, he makes the best of it and becomes an amazing house husband.

Jack watching the remake of His Merry Wife!, and having a lot of opinions about the comparative skills of the new actors. Is either extremely amused at the new Charlie actor or offended by his very existence. (I can't imagine the Hallmark actors would favorably compare to the original).

Jack: Honey, I'm sure you're an amazing writer, but I can't even begin to wrap my head around the new style of movies.

Lucy: Puts Jack through a months-long training course of classic movies to catch up on the history of cinema.

Jack Huston is an obvious stage name. Jack starts going by his original name in the future. It takes a while for Lucy to adjust.

Jack has to catch up on all of history for the past seventy-odd years. Too much amusement potential to even know where to start.

Did Jack fight in WWII? Does this affect his life at all?

Semi-regular encounters with classic Christmas movie fans: "You look just like Jack Huston." "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Jack cosplaying at Biltmore at Christmastime and having the time of his life quoting the film and getting pictures from people who are amazed that the staff found such a good impersonator.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in April 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #61 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🌼 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo

(E, 79k, F1 au) In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

🌼 Colorful Hearts by Larrysmomfics / @larrysmomfics

(M, 20k, humor) In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions. 

🌼 In a swirl of flashing lights by @lunaticcat009

(M, 15k, friends to lovers) Harry taps on Louis' window with a sad smile and they sneak into a closed carnival. A starry night of them running around the abandoned premises with their fingers intertwined ensues.

🌼 Fuck You For Ruining New York City For Me by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 11k, exes) Louis broke up with him in their New York apartment, so Harry left the city for good. Except now he’s back, visiting with his new boyfriend.

🌼 defying stars by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 9k, high school) the marching band au only one person (and that was me) asked for.

🌼 Half a World Away by @silverstuff50

(E, 9k, omegaverse) Bothy: A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. Bothies are found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ulster and Wales. 

🌼 Where All Roads Lead by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(NR, 7k, neighbors) Harry's Christmas takes an unexpected turn when he discovers a misplaced holiday card in his letterbox. He never thought that braving the snow to return the card to its sender would be so worth his while.

🌼 Does it Ever Drive You Crazy? (Just How Fast the Night Changes) by xx_soup_xx

(G, 7k, strangers to lovers) Baker Harry Styles takes it upon himself to get his mysterious grumpy customer, Louis Tomlinson, to like Christmas by taking him on a disastrous first date.

🌼 Girl Crush by Hopeless_blue

(T, 7k, strangers to lovers) He used to be so close to fulfilling his dreams when he participated in X-Factor. But that was four years ago, and now, on a rainy day, he wanders the streets looking for a pub where he could sing sometimes. Charming bartender Louis is ready to give him a shot...

🌼 Why Don’t We Start Writing The Story Of Us by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 6k, omegaverse) Alpha Louis and Omega Harry get off on the wrong foot, Louis has the worst timing, and Harry believes in second chances. Three times Louis asks Harry on a date and the one time Harry accepts

🌼 I Might Say Yes by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 6k, established relationship) the one where Harry buys a wedding dress on a whim. And his very doting boyfriend, Louis, is more than happy to indulge him

🌼 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 5k, 5 times fic) Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest.

🌼 Crimson Clover by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(T, 5k, soulmates) Harry and Louis are soulmates, but one is already promised to another. When their plan to flee is discovered and they are separated, Harry falls gravely ill.

🌼 I’ll tell you something (I hope you’ll understand) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 2k, girl direction) Louis insists that Harry stay off her phone and in the safety of Louis' room rather than risk moping in her own texting her ex-boyfriend. When Harry agrees on one condition, Louis' safe night in could become something else entirely.

🌼 All The Way Home I'll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 2k, friends to lovers) Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🌼 beech tree in autumn by @juliusschmidt

(E, 1k, summer romance) Louis walks forward. Harry walks back. And back. And back. Off the two track, through the brush, until his heel bangs against the trunk of a tree.

🌼 hey stupid, i love you by @enchantedlandcoffee

(T, 1k, omegaverse) The one where self-proclaimed Valentine's Day hater, Louis, surprises his boyfriend on their first Valentine's together.

🌼 skinny dip (in water under the bridge) by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(G, 880 words, exes) It’s a Wednesday and nostalgia might just get the best of Louis.

- Rare Pairs -

🌼 Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence

(NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis) the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.

🌼 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 3k, ot5) Zayn and Louis are soulmates. They're also missing some soulmates. For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

[xhanisai]

Uhh marichat where Chat gets Mari away from an akuma and she accidentally forgets she’s not wearing the mask when she talks to him.

~(x)~

.

He didn't even take the time to breathe and before he knew it, Chat Noir pounced on Marinette's frozen form and rolled them away in the nick of time. The nasty Akuma's razor-sharp claws swiped the area she was at momentarily ago at lightning speed and had the hero not been quick enough, well...

In his arms, he'd be holding Marinette "I'm-In-So-Much-Du-FUCKING-PAIN" Cheng instead and it would have been a severely gruesome sight. Thank the kwamis from all around the world that some good luck shined on him for once (but most importantly, thank the lucky charm bracelet Marinette gave him a long while back which he wore religiously every day as a civilian).

The Akuma's warning growls and oncoming form were enough to snap the feline out of his thoughts and by instinct, he picked Marinette up bridal style and sprinted away as fast as possible. Though, the Akuma let out one last roar of anger which Chat Noir managed to hear even after putting a few good hundreds of metres between them.

"I WILL GET MY REVENGE ON YOU MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG! YOU WILL NEVER INSULT MY BRILLIANT FOOD EVER AGAIN YOU BRAT!"

Wide-eyed, Chat Noir directed his greens towards his huffing good friend, the girl rolling her eyes at the Akuma's words and looking very annoyed rather than scared for her life. As if the whole thing was just an inconvenience and the Akuma's claws weren't literally millimetres away from turning her into a sheesh kebab.

"Marinette? Est-ce vrais?" He asked as he continued to leap from rooftop to rooftop, noting in the back of his head that the Akuma was now busy arguing with le Papillon in their head a good distance away. They were safe for now.

"He was selling mouldy fruit tarts! And the sandwiches tasted like they were made ten thousand years ago!" She folded her arms and huffed childishly again when he set her down on her feet, his hands on his hips and a brow raised attractively under the mask. "I told him this politely and tried my best to not make a fuss. But no! He started yelling at me and got all the customers' attention!" Her blue eyes then turned beady with its glare. "Then that stupid man tried to insult Maman and Papa, saying how can a stupid kid like me with parents like them know any better? So I said his food sucked and that even a five-year-old could do a way better job! Hmmph!"

Ahh. No wonder he got akumatised and had a vendetta against the pouting girl. Chat Noir could only smile at her endearingly, always admiring the way Marinette could get so fired up and passionate on behalf of other people. It's one of the many, many things about her that made his heart flutter and try his best to match her energy when he can. It's just a shame that instead of getting a chance to de-escalate the argument, le Papillon reared his ugly head and took advantage of the fuming man's emotions.

"Well. It looks like he's itching to dice you up and put you on a tart. You should hide before the Akuma--"

"COME OUT, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE, DUPAIN-CHENG!!!!"

Just as Chat Noir was about to scoop her back in his arms and dart away, Marinette did a complete one-eighty and took on a strong stance. Fists curled by her sides, eyes now narrowed with determination and she stared down at the Akuma who was still quite a distance away from them; his giant but clumsy form still looking for her with a nasty scowl on his face.

"Chat Noir. Get to the rooftop on the Akuma's left and have your catacylsme ready. I'll summon a lucky charm once I'm behind him. I guarantee that the butterfly is in his apron so hopefully I'll get a pair of scissors or something." She was completely blind to the way Chat Noir gawked behind her, his jaw comically dropping to the floor and his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

He couldn't even utter a word.

"Let's go!" She ordered and just as she ran and reached the end of the rooftop they were perched on, her hand automatically went to the side of her hip.

When she didn't feel her yoyo anywhere on her and realised that she was still decked up in her civilian attire, it was as if a bucket of icy cold water mercilessly poured on her head. In pure Marinette style, her face contorted into one that screamed 'I FUCKED UP' and slowly, she faced her Chaton who was still gaping at her.

.

"...I can explain." She rasped weakly. Instead of laughing it all off and pretending nothing happened like he should've (that stupid cat!), Chat Noir got down to one knee instead, pulled off his ring, revealing himself to be none other than Adrien Agreste and spoke.

"Marry me. Now. Please."

.

Of course, Marinette screamed like a dying monkey.

.

~(x)~

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

[vanfleeter]

Black Smoke: Chapter 1 - Look At Me

Pairings: Jake x reader Warnings: Smut (minors, please stay away), swearing, a little bit of fluff, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, boudoir photography, (let me know if I missed anything). Author's Note: I saw someone wondering about photographer!jake so I thought I'd try to write one myself. I'm still learning how to smut so bare with me. 1923 may have inspired the ending of this fic sooo I might continue this.. Summary: When you accompany your friend to a photoshoot, you capture Jake's attention and he becomes enamored of you.

Black Smoke Masterlist

Sliding out of the car and closing the door behind you, you look over at your friend, Kylie, who simply smiles at you. She convinced you to come with her to a photoshoot she booked for her business. She’s always been nervous being in front of the camera so of course, like the good friend you are, you went with her to be her hype person.

“You finally get to meet Jake.” She beams. “He’s an amazing photographer.”

Jacob Kiszka. Owner of Black Smoke Photography. He’s most prevalent in outdoor photography, but he offered to shoot her business photos indoors in a studio loft that he owns in the city of Nashville.

Stepping into the studio, you’re in awe of how bright it is with the natural light coming in through the warehouse windows. The total opposite of the usual photos that he takes. For the majority of his photos, they’re dark and moody so finding the studio space full of light and warmth is a complete one-eighty degree turn.

Upon hearing your entrance to the studio, Jake peers over the ledge of the balcony that hangs above the door. His hands grip the railing, the rings on his fingers clinking against the metal. He smiles. “Hey Ky.” He says. “Give me just a couple minutes and I’ll be down.”

“Sure thing Jake!”

Coming down a spiral staircase, Jake stands before the two of you dressed in a white, linen button down shirt with only a few bottom buttons holding it closed at the bottom of his abdomen and a pair of khaki pants cropped at his ankles. Cognac colored loafers adorn his feet. His many rings decorate his fingers while a couple necklaces hang around his neck. His hair hangs down in loose waves stopping at his shoulders.

A bright smile spreads across his face as he moves across the room to you two. “Good to see you again Ky.” He says as they embrace in a hug.

“You too, Jake.” She says. “I want to introduce you to my friend, (Y/N).” She adds when they pull apart. “(Y/N), this is Jake.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He says, extending a hand. The skin of his hand feels rough yet warm against yours and he has a firm but delicate grip.

“You as well,” You say. “I’ve checked out your work. It’s all really good.”

He smiles and retreats his hand. “Thank you.”

“I love how bright it is here.” Kylie says as she looks around the studio. “So different from your normal style.”

“I took a look at the theme, or aesthetic, of your business and it looks very bright and airy so I thought keeping with the theme would make it easier and more comfortable for you.” Jake explains as he follows her through the studio space.

You follow a short distance behind him. You couldn’t help but watch how his biceps flex underneath the fabric of his shirt sleeves. Kylie catches you staring and you immediately look away feeling the slight warmth of your cheeks as you blush. She shoots you a smirk.

“Shall we get started then?” She says as she sets her things down by the table that’s littered with Jake’s equipment.

Jake nods his head and makes his way to the table. He picks up one of the many camera bodies and attaches a lens to it. He turns back towards Kylie and directs her on the stool. “Don’t fully sit on the stool, kind of lean against it with your legs crossed at your ankles.”

“Like this?” Kylie says as she follows his directions.

“Perfect.” Jake says as he snaps a few candid shots as she positions herself against the stool. “Now cross your arms over your chest and give your best serious face.”

During shots and new poses, you’d make silly faces behind Jake to keep Kylie comfortable and confident and bring her out of her shell. When it comes down to the serious poses, you stayed over by the monitor that showed the shots Jake was taking. Each one popped up on the screen until one of you came up. A side profile shot of you as you look at the monitor. Looking over at Jake, you catch him shooting you a smile before he turns back to Kylie. You feel a slight blush on your cheeks again as you turn back to look at the monitor.

After a few more shots, Jake lowers his camera. “How about we take a break?” He says.

“Good, I’m starving anyways.” Kylie says making Jake scoff.

“When are you not?” He says.

Kylie retrieves her purse. “I’m gonna go out and get food. Do you want anything?” Both you and Jake shake your heads. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

“Do you want me to come along?” You ask.

Kylie shakes her head. She glances over at Jake who has gone back to messing with his camera and not paying attention to the two of you. She wags her eyebrows at you. You roll your eyes making her snicker. She pulls out her car keys and heads for the exit leaving you alone with Jake in the studio.

As Jake continues to mess with his camera, adjusting the settings and cleaning off the lens, you walk over to the window and peer outside at the cityscape of Nashville. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow on everything it touches. Including you. Jake takes notice of you by the window. The golden hue basking warmly on your face and brightening your eyes. He lifts his camera up to his face and points it at you. He snaps a few shots capturing you in your own little world.

He clicks his tongue like he’s calling a cat. You turn your head with your brows furrowed and he quickly snaps a few more photos.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting some candids.” He says.

“I am not your client today.” You say folding your arms over your chest. “I’m only here as moral support for Kylie.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders. “Free session on the house.” He shoots you a wink and lowers his camera. You lower your head as you smile and bite down on your bottom lip. “You’re a natural.”

You roll your eyes and look back out of the window. “No, I’m not.”

“I wouldn’t argue with someone who owns a camera and has an eye for this stuff.” He says.

“Oh, cocky much?” You say folding your arms over your chest. “Kylie never mentioned you having such a big ego.”

Jake scoffs. “I do not have a big ego.” He says. “An ego, sure. A big one? Not by a long shot. I just have an eye for seeing naturals.” He walks over to you and reaches his hand out to your face to tuck a strand behind his ear. “And I have an eye for finding beautiful girls.”

You giggle and shake your head. “Big ego and a flirt.” You say. “Do you do this with all of your clients?”

“Oh so you’re my client now?” He inquires. “I thought you were only Kylie’s moral support?”

“I am not your client.” You say as you lean against the window.

“So it wouldn’t be wrong to kiss you since you’re not my client?” He says stepping up in front of you. “I may have been taking photos of Kylie but I’ve been looking at you most of the time.” He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. “This past hour has been pure torture not knowing how soft these lips must feel.” He lifts his eyes to yours. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You look between both of his eyes. Now that you’ve really looked into them you can see that they’re a russet shade of brown. They’re gentle when looking at you. And if eyes could smile, his sure are.

You simply nod your head. Gently he caresses your face in the palm of his hand as he leans down to kiss you. Feeling his lips press to yours you could feel the butterflies erupt inside your stomach. Slowly he pulls away. You open your eyes to find him staring at you. A smile spreads across his face.

“I was right. They are soft.” He says.

A soft giggle escapes you making him chuckle. Stepping away from you he sets his camera on the table. He reaches for your hand and pulls it up to his lips where he presses a soft kiss upon your skin. He smiles when he sees the goosebumps rise along your hand and up your forearm.

Softly and slowly he leaves a trail of kisses up your arm before stopping at your shoulder. He glances up at you with his eyes asking for permission to continue. You simply nod your head and he presses his lips to your neck and trails up to the back of your head. A light gasp slips out and he smiles against the side of your head.

He pulls away slightly and moves back to your lips to kiss you. He drops your hand and moves his hand to cup the back of your neck. He leans in between your legs and presses against you. You can feel how hard he is already. The feeling ignites a spark within your core and the heat builds.

“Is this okay?” He asks as he slips his hand underneath the cotton fabric of your shirt. No words came from your mouth so you nod your head once again. “Uh uh,” He hums. “I need words.” He says stopping the movements of his hands.

“Y… Yes..” You force out. Your own hands cling to the waistband of his pants pulling him as close as you possibly can.

He grabs the ends of your shirt and pulls it off and over your head and drops it to the floor by your feet. You grab his shirt and unbutton the last few buttons of his shirt and slide it off his shoulders and down his arms. He shakes it off his wrists and lets it fall to the floor. He goes to reach for you but pauses.

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you okay?” You ask.

He folds his arms across his chest as he looks you up and down. He rubs his chin as he thinks.

“What’s on your mind, photo boy?” You say.

His eyebrows raise and he looks at you. “Photo boy?”

“I’ll think of something else eventually.”

Jake smiles before turning in his feet and walking over to the table full of his equipment. “Have you ever done boudoir before?”

You shake your head. “I’m hardly ever in front of the camera to begin with.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Basically sexy photos.”

Jake nods his shoulders. “Pretty much.” He says as he grabs a film camera. “Would you be comfortable doing it?”

“Well.. I..”

“You don’t have to,” Jake says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s just a fun, little idea.”

“I could try it..” You say. “But Kylie..”

“Knowing Kylie she probably went to some sit down restaurant, ordered herself a nice big juicy steak and some wine. She does it all the time.” Jake says as he walks back over to you. “Though abandoning her friend with someone she’s hardly met is not like her.”

“Ehh,” You shrug your shoulders. “It’s not the first time.”

Jake laughs. “Well I guess we know different versions of Kylie then..” You crack a smile. “So..” He adjusted the dials on the camera. “Shall we?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing.” You say as you push off the window.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.”

Jake brings you over to the other side of the room where a couch rests against one wall and a coffee table sits in front of it.

“Lay down on the couch on your back and just relax.”

“Okay..”

As you walk over to the couch and begin to lay down, he stops you. “Wait..” He sets the camera down on the table and approaches you. “If you’re gonna keep your jeans on, we’re gonna make it look sexy–er.”

You giggle at his save. He unbuttons your jeans and pulls them slightly down just enough that they’re still on your hips but showing a little of your underwear. Black lace is what you chose for today. It even matches your bra.

“Well..” Jake clears his throat. He backs away and retrieves his camera. “Now lay down and relax.” You do as you’re told and you lay down on the couch. You shift around a little to make yourself comfortable amongst the red velvety cushions. “Comfortable?” He asks. You nod your head. “Good. Take your arms and kind of drape them over your head. Think of Rose from Titanic.”

You hum in understanding. “Jake, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls…” You recite the line and change out Jack for Jake. “But you know.. Photographing me..”

Jake smiles as he lifts the camera up to his eyes. “French girls don’t compare to you, love.” He says as he presses his index finger down on the button, snapping a photo. “I take it you like Titanic?”

“I love it.” You say, not daring to move just yet. “What do you think of it?”

“It’s okay..” Jake shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t move..”

He climbs onto the couch, straddling your waist. “Lift your chin so you look just slightly behind you.” You follow his direction. “Just like that, perfect.” He snaps another photo.

You can still feel how hard he is when he applies slight pressure to your waist as he continues to straddle your body. He finally climbs off of you and moves away from the couch.

“Feel comfortable enough to take your pants off?” He asks.

You nod your head and slip them off. His jaw nearly falls to the ground when he sees just how wet you’ve become.

“Fuck..” He gasps. He lowers the camera. “I’m so screwed..”

You giggle. “It’s your fault.”

“I uh, I–well..” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Okay umm.. Uh..”

“Do you want to continue?” You ask, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Jake opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out before he closes it. He picks up the camera again and holds it up to his face. The pose you were in with your legs crossed in front of you while your elbows held you up nearly made him want to put the camera down and fuck you right there.

“Lay your head back..” He says. You do and he snaps another photo. “Take your bra off.” He says, sounding more demanding. “I-If you want to.” He quickly adds.

You could tell you were making him nervous all while turning him on. Not once did you anticipate this ever happening. You barely knew the guy and yet you were nearly naked on a couch inside of his studio while he took photos of you all while hard as a rock inside of his pants. This man wants to fuck you. He’s just bursting at the seams.

Obliging to his order you unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor.

“Good,” He says. “Now lay on your stomach, one arm hanging off the couch.” You follow his instructions. “Look at me. Perfect.” He bends his knees to come down to a better angle and snaps the photo.

Setting the camera on the table, he kneels in front of the couch. “You’re so beautiful.” He tilts your head back to kiss you. “Turn back over.”

You do as he says and roll back over onto your backside. His tongue flicks out between his lips. He cups his left hand around your right breast as he leans down to suck on your left breast. Goosebumps once again cover your skin. A moan falls from your mouth as your head falls against the cushion of the couch.

You slide your hand off the couch and to his body. Slipping your hand underneath the hem of his linen pants you palm his cock eliciting a groan from him. He pulls his lips off of your nipple and looks up at you.

He pulls your hand out his pants and holds it up above your head. “No.. It’s all about you sweetheart.” He says.

“Jakey..” You whimper.

“Jakey?” He says. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

You sit up and grab his face in your hands. “Stop talking and fuck me.”

Almost immediately he pulls you off the couch and swings you onto his waist. He carries her upstairs to the loft.

“I wasn’t expecting this to be up here.” You say as he lays you onto a bed.

“There’s a lot you won’t be expecting.”

He grabs your jeans and pulls them the rest of the way down your legs and tosses them to the floor. “Black really compliments you.” He says before discarding his own pants. He licks his lips as he stares at your underwear. It’s already soaked with your juices. Nudging your legs further apart, he reaches over to grab the fabric of your underwear and drags them down your hips and your legs. He presses the fabric to his nose and inhales.

“Smells good?” You ask.

He nods his head. “Mmhmm.” He hums, making you laugh. He tosses your underwear to the floor and leans over top of you.

“You’re such a pretty girl.” He says as he moves down to kiss you. “My pretty girl.”

“What am I?” You say. “A dog?”

He laughs into the crook of your neck. “I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous?”

He lifts his head. “No one has ever made me feel the way you make you feel right now.”

You giggle and tangle your fingers in his hair. “Just relax.” You tell him. “And breathe. Do what your body tells you to do.” You brush his hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ear. “What is your body telling you?”

“I want to touch you..”

You guide your hand down his arm and to his hand that rests on your hip. “Then touch me.” You move his hand from your hip and rests it in between your legs. You feel him ghost his fingertips along your center before using his thumb to rub circles into your clit.

“Does that feel good?” He asks.

You nod your head, your hand gripping tightly to his arm. He inserts his index and middle fingers inside of you. Your mouth falls open as a moan tumbles out.

“Oh…” You gasp.

“You like that?” He says as he slowly pumps them in and out.

“Y-Yes..” You stutter.

Just like he did earlier, he cups your breast with his other hand as he sucks on the other. His tongue laps around your nipple before sucking on it again. He never loses the rhythm of his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

“You’re so warm and slick against my fingers.” He says when pulling away from your breast. “But I want to feel you on my tongue.”

Moving further down the bed he removes his fingers from inside you. You whimper, missing the feel of his fingers. You watch him as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. His eyes roll and he groans.

Getting down on his stomach, he doesn’t waste any time as he brings his mouth down to your center. He drags his tongue in a slow lick against your folds.

“Fuck.. Jake..” He hears you moan.

He does it again and curves his tongue to dip in between your inner folds. Your hands fly to his hair and grip lightly to his loose waves. He inserts his fingers alongside his tongue. He’s pulling double duty and you love it. He knows you love it.

“Jake..” You moan. “Jake, I’m–”

He hums against you in response as he keeps working you closer to your climax. He curls his fingers inside of you. He feels your walls clench. “Cum for me..” He says before diving back in.

Slowly the fire in your core burned hotter and hotter. “There it is love.” He says. Like licking an ice cream cone he laps up all of your juices as they spill out from within you. Your thighs are clenched around his head, his free hand digging deeper into your outer thigh as he licks you clean and helps you ride out your orgasm.

Once you have relaxed, he leans back on the bed to admire you. Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you catch your breath. When you look into his eyes, they’re no longer the soft and gentle eyes you saw earlier. Now they’re darker, full of lust and hunger. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth before climbing backwards off the bed.

“Don’t move..” He orders before running back down the spiral staircase. He comes back a minute later with a different digital camera. Resting it on the bed, he grabs hold of your leg and pulls you down the bed and laying your legs around his hips. He grabs the camera.

“Cup your breasts,” He says. “But turn your head to your left, keep your eyes focused straight ahead of you.”

Follow his direction. He watches your hands as they wrap around the soft lumps on your chest. With your head turned and your vision solely focused on a photo hanging on the wall, you can hear the click on the camera.

“Beautiful.” He sighs.

“No one will see these?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “Only for my eyes.” He says. He licks his lip and lowers the camera. “I want to try something.”

He climbs back off the bed and walks over to the other side of the room. He retrieves a tripod that rests against the railing of the loft and brings it over to the bed. Bringing it back over to the bed, he sets it up off to the side of the bed and connects the camera to it.

“What do you have in mind?” You ask turning over onto your side to watch him while he works to put his idea together.

“Something I’ve never done before.” He says. He adjusts the settings on the camera and looks through the eyepiece to make sure it looks exactly what he’s envisioned in his head. He straightens up and rests his hands on his hips. “Lay down on your back.” He says. You do as he says and he walks back over to the bed.

He climbs back onto the bed and nudges your legs apart with his fingers before slipping off his boxers..

“Are you filming a sex tape?”

Jake lets out a boisterous laugh and shakes his head. “No, not a sex tape.” He says. “Have you ever seen in movies how the angle of the camera captures two lovers in bed, the girl on the bottom, the guy on the top–classic sex pose?” You nod your head. “He has her one hip propped up on his waist, his hand resting on her thigh,” He explains as he moves you two into said position. “He’s leaning over her as she looks up at him. She’s got the look in her eyes of pure adoration, kind of like how you have it right now.”

“And you want that photo?”

“It would be a classic.” He says.

A smile cracks on your face. “Then let’s do it.”

“But I want to make it look natural.” He says. “I want us to be in the moment.”

You can feel his length rub against you. “Then what are you waiting for?” You say.

Readjusting himself, he guides his cock to your folds and slowly slides inside. Both of you moan in content as you relax into each other.

“You feel so much better wrapped around my cock.” He says. He slightly wiggles his hips before pulling out slightly and pushing back inside. He fits inside of you just perfectly. As if you two were made for each other. “This feel alright?” He asks.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

You can tell that he’s becoming more confident by his fluid movements. He has one hand holding up your leg on his waist and driving in deeper.

“Jake..” You moan. You link your arms underneath his and dig your fingers into the skin of his back. “Fuck..”

“You’re taking me so well..” He says. He lays an open palm on your lower abdomen. He can feel his cock inside of you which only turns him on more. “I fill you so nicely.”

“Mmmm..” You hum, your eyes fluttering closed. You feel him twitch inside of you, his hands fly to your sides and hold you tighter as he continues thrusting in and of you.

“Babe, I’m getting close.” He says.

Your eyes open to look up at him. His head is thrown back, his eyes screwed shut. “Babe?” You say.

His movements pause and he lowers his head. “What?”

“You called me ‘babe’?”

“Oh I-”

You smile. “I like it.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah?” He leans back down and kisses you. “You’re my babe?”

“Don’t jump too far ahead.” You say. “I said I liked being called ‘babe’.”

He chuckles as he begins moving again. “I like calling you that.” He says.

His thrusts were getting sloppy as he continued on. You can feel the burn again in your core.

“Jake..”

“Yeah baby, I know..”

Both of you hit your climax. You can feel him spill inside you. The warmth of his cum mixing with the warm feeling in your core only made you feel more good. Your back arches pushing your bodies closer together. You both ride it out together as he slows down his thrusting.

Being so distracted by your own orgasm, you were unaware of the camera snapping a photo. Jake’s face is buried in the crook of your neck as he sucks on your skin.

Once you both come down from your climax, he pulls out of you and lays out on the bed beside you. You roll over to lay over his chest. He wraps his arm around your body and pulls the covers over both of you.

“Can I take one more picture?” He asks, eliciting a giggle from you.

“You just can’t stop, can you?”

“You’re just so beautiful.” He says.

You go to sit up to let him get out of the bed but he pulls you back down and shakes his head. “I thought you-”

“With my eyes.” He says. “Where it’ll be permanently.”

You could hear sadness in his voice as he spoke. As if he’ll never see you again after today.

“Jake..” You sit back up. “Are you okay?”

He inhales. “I had fun today,” He says. “With everything, including this…”

“But..” You prompt him to continue going.

“I have to leave..” He says. “I have this opportunity to photograph wildlife in Africa and it’s a great opportunity.”

“Sounds like fun too.” You say smiling down at him. “Just don’t get eaten by lions.”

He scoffs, a smile spreading across his face.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to go?” You say leaning on your elbow.

Jake inhales deeply before exhaling. “It’s going to sound crazy..”

“Nothing is too crazy. Tell me.”

“Being with you today, I don’t ever want to let you go.” He says. “Sex with you was great and it wasn’t rushed. I felt–connected to you.”

“Well all things considered..”

Jake chuckles. “Aside from that literal aspect, I mean..” He sighs. “I know we literally just met today but I felt..something. I want to be with you. I don’t want to leave you.”

You smile. “I’ll still be here when you get back. I ain’t going anywhere.”

Jake pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Come with me.” He says.

“C-Come with… Me?”

Jake nods his head. “There’s something about you. Something that I want to keep with me.”

“Jake, I… Africa is… I mean… You really want me to come with you?”

“If you don’t, I will…” A voice by the stairs comes.

Both you and Jake look over to see Kylie standing by the stairs. A smirk plays on her face as a blush creeps across yours.

“You two definitely had fun while I was gone.”

You hide your face in the crook of Jake’s neck making him laugh.

--

To Be Continued...

[thekingofthenameless]

Could you tell me your process in designing Merlin and Charlie, both in aesthetics and personalities? You mentioned in your Q&A post about the design changes so I’m intrigued in your thought process!

Thanks for the ask! :D

My memory is shit so I had to go through old Discord messages for this lmaooo, but it was fun! …When I wasn’t dying due to cringe.

For those who don’t know, these two are Tales of Arcadia’s Merlin, and Tales of Arcadia’s Charlie! Aka the two that started all this.

Merlin:

Back when The King of the Nameless was still a ToA fanfiction, (titled Emerald Embers), I didn’t have plans to change Merlin that much at first, besides giving him a long white ponytail (inspired by his concept art), some earrings, and the outfit that @tenyai drew in some storyboard explorations!

After some time passed, I decided to make him look more intimidating to better fit his role as someone who’s been through war for most of his life. I was inspired by this concept art! I thought he looked really cool, and it’s still my favorite storyboard version of him.

A few months later my Artbreeder era started when I wanted to make him myself. We don’t talk about that.

Eventually, I got a design commissioned!

By this point, I’d had the idea to depict him with darker skin, but he didn’t have a defined race (I accepted @aaronwaltke’s headcanon/idea of him being so old nationalities weren’t a thing yet.)

Time passed, and I went on my unintentional but helpful hiatus for several months before coming back.

Once I started revisiting the yet to be retitled Emerald Embers, I had the idea to redesign Merlin again.

I had watched this TikTok, and afterwards, for some reason, got curious and decided to look up if locs with white hair exist (they do, of course, I was just making sure I wasn’t being stupid).

The idea was also partly from me realizing that Merlin being ambiguously brown without a defined race wasn’t… good, even with his “age”. The trope of characters without a defined race is really common, and a bit problematic, so it would be cool to have a clearly Black protagonist. I was already getting heavily attached to the concept when I approached my boyfriend with it, and I tried to convince him to tell me redesigning him again was a bad idea, but I don’t think I would’ve listened even if he had told me lol.

I also remembered Once Upon A Time’s Merlin, who’s Black, and that helped convince me more!

About a week later, I was making Picrews while planning to commission someone eventually!

I finally approached his original artist after searching for one a bit, because I saw one of their posts on Reddit and loved their art style!

After a few renditions, Merlin had a set design at last!

Or… so I thought, lol. I’d wanted Merlin to have an undercut on every side of his head, like an au of Adora where she has the hairstyle, and his locs actually going halfway down his back. I basically gaslighted myself into forgetting that when his first artist drew it short. 💀 Maybe he started growing it out and shaved the rest of his head after he turned immortal or something lol.

Anyways, got into contact with his current design’s artist. While looking up references for his body type (even though I had one already, so I don’t know why I did that lol), I found his current body type and was like “Perfect”.

And his hair is actually longer than I’d planned! :D Fully down, I think it would reach his knees or possibly longer.

Then him being a transgender man grabbed me by the throat, and I eventually came up with a design for how he looked when he found Charlie!

He was physically twelve at this point, but chronologically sixty-four. (Almost thirteen and sixty-five lol. He transitioned when he was sixteen physically, chronologically eighty.)

So, in a summary, Merlin has gone from cisgender white ➡️ cisgender ambiguously brown skinned (glad I changed that lol) ➡️ cisgender Black ➡️ transgender Black.

He’s changed so much lol.

And something I find funny about DR!Merlin's design vs TKN Merlin: the latter Merlin is just. ONE inch taller now. 6'8" compared to 6'7".

Also I’ll end this with the point that technically, his appearance is never described in original Arthurian text, so he can look like whatever I want him to. ;)

Charlie:

Finally onto the best boy!!

After getting my first adoptable, a dragon named Mantis, I looked at ToA Charlie again and just went “😬”

Alongside him being a little bit too humanoid for my taste, (and his neck proportions taking me out, lol) his wings being leathery with holes in them made me annoyed because they logically should have repaired themselves; as long as a bat has proper rest and nutrition, tears in their wings can heal on their own without medical attention. With as many holes as he has, he obviously shouldn’t be able to fly.

Anyways, thought of redesigning him for a bit, but never had any fleshed out concepts of anything since dragon Picrews are unfortunately hard to come by.

Then I got this dragon adoptable!

Apparently about three minutes later, I thought: what if that was the redesign for Charlie? I ran with it, and that’s how this dragon became Charlie! Still ToA at this point, lol.

(Me deciding an adoptable is perfect for a character design, actually, was what happened with Morgana too but we’ll talk about her later.)

Later, I saw an awesome unicorn adoptable and wondered if it was still open, so I contacted Charlie’s second artist! It wasn’t, so I asked if I could get a commission instead since some slots were available.

If I remember right, I asked for him to be in a flying pose, and after a traditional sketch I loved immediately, it was onto digital, then coloring! He got a little bit of a redesign, lol; I love how his colors seem far more vibrant, and how his wings actually look like lava! :D

Somewhere along the line, I decided the swirls and leaves on his leg would be his familiar mark!

Time passed, and The King of the Nameless started coming to life. I asked Reddit for new name suggestions for Charlie because I thought I shouldn't/couldn't keep the same name; got absolutely great suggestions like Fred, Scorch (also fun fact that's referenced in this oneshot lol), and... Jarred. No, I'm not kidding. Gave up on Reddit and Googled male dragon names before going to a generator. That gave me the amazing name Tyson, and hell yeah, I'm absolutely gonna name an ancient dragon after chicken nuggets! (It's actually derived from the Old French word "tison", or "firebrand", but admit it, the chicken nuggets is funnier.) I even thought of naming him Falkor after the dragon in The Neverending Story lol.

But Falkor didn't stick. No matter how hard I tried, my brain refused to latch onto the name, and I always kept internally referring to my dragon as Charlie. I tried to think of more new names, but nothing would come to mind, and at one point the only name I could think of was Adam. Eventually my boyfriend just said "as long as you don't name him Charlemagne from Tales of Arcadia you'll be fine".

So after all that, Charlie he stayed!

Some more time passed, and I got my first commission of Merlin and Charlie in the same picture!

He was unintentionally drawn as pretty small since I forgot to send size references at first lol.

Got two more pieces! He was pretty much consistent size wise for these two.

I started getting a fourth piece of them together, using an incredible sketch I made for the artist to have as a reference that I should post against the final art like this post lol.

And when I got the sketch, Charlie was BIG, far bigger than before.

Debated on it keeping it his new size or not for a little bit until I was like: "fuck it we ball the other arts are in the past and this is present". (Also Merl's hair isn't long in most pieces anyway lol.)

Bro's like. the size of a car now.

Something I thought funny that applies to both of their designs: just like Merlin’s hair got longer and longer (although I wanted it halfway down his back in the first place and forgot) Charlie’s gotten bigger and bigger lol.

Commissioned another piece with Charlie's new size!

Another thing about Charlie's design I find funny: he's bigger than ToA Charlie now.

That concludes the epic saga of their design changes, and now they're both set in stone! They really are. I promise.

Artist credits: @undeadchestnut, @honeyxmonkey, Soberana Art (on Artstation), @cat-gh0ul, NaldThal (on Ko-Fi), @heropaws, @biposi, @honeyxmonkey, @theeio, @azurewildflight

Picrew credits: djarn, romanapologist/hotvanilla, brightgoat

Links to their individual posts, if applicable: ToA Merlin’s concept art (1, 2, 3, 4), Merlin’s original hair (1, 2, 3), ToA Merlin’s medieval outfit, The Original Tiktok, White locs (1, 2, 3), Adora undercut au, Merlin’s original body type, Merlin’s current body type, Current Merlin, Trans Merlin, Mantis the dragon, Original Charlie, Charlie's name fiasco (on Reddit), Forest, Cuddles, Sploot, Embrace, Meadow. (also a few more links throughout the post lol)

Taglist: @gaylightisminetocommand, @the-arson-author-gamer, @honeyxmonkey, @danhengsbestie

[lemoncrushh]

Wild Horses - One

Summary: Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

A/N: Please note all portions in italics are meant to be flashbacks :).

STORY PAGE

Chapter One Word Count: 4.3k+

“Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired…” - Daughtry; Witness

“Are you sure this is what you wanna do?” Pauline asked, lifting her coffee mug to her lips.

Amber let out a breath and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, Mom, it is.”

Pauline swallowed as she looked out the window to the backyard. The swing set was old and rusted, the sandbox her children had once played in now overgrown with weeds. Her daughter was nearing twenty. It was time to let her go and earn her wings.

“Then I think you should go for it,” she said with a sweet smile.

Relief spread over Amber as she rose from her chair to give her mother a hug.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll make you proud, I promise.”

“You already do, sweetheart,” whispered Pauline as she patted Amber’s hand, a tear trickling out of the corner of her eye. “Now you go follow your dream. Laci and I will be just fine.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. She’s a wild one, keeps me on my toes. Just like you.”

Amber caught the loving admiration underneath Pauline’s joking tone.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Now stop making me teary-eyed and go pack.”

Amber grinned as she bound for her bedroom. She was gonna be okay. She could feel it.

The restaurant was freezing. Actually, to say it was a restaurant was like calling that motel they’d stayed in the night before the Ritz. It was a dang Waffle House, but at least it was cheap. Amber had managed to save up some money on this short road tour, but she wasn’t about to splurge on a real restaurant, even if that sign she’d seen for that Mexican place had looked appealing. Still, it was so freaking cold in this joint, her nipples could’ve broken glass.

“And what can I get you, hon?” asked the blond middle-aged waitress.

Amber faked a smile as she rubbed her arms. “Eggs over easy with grits and bacon please.”

The waitress nodded and penciled in her order before addressing Carter who sat beside her. He ordered his usual - three waffles. Nothing else. Of course he would smother them later with butter and maple syrup. Amber watched him sip on his Coke when the waitress walked away and wondered how on earth he was able to carry all the band equipment day after day when he was loaded up on so much sugar. She never once saw him come down from his high and fall flat on his ass, but she waited for the day she would.

“How many more miles til Nashville?” groaned Brendan, running his palm down his face, his eyes weary.

“About eighty or so,” replied Johnny, smoothing out the road map in front of him. “Not much longer.”

“Good, cause I need a real bed. Alone.”

Amber smiled meekly at her bass player. Brendan had taken the wheel early that morning after they’d left Charlotte. The boys were getting a bit restless and annoyed with having to share a motel room, one of them usually opting for the floor or the van so they wouldn’t have to share a bed. Occasionally if Amber got a double room, Carter would convince her to let him take the other bed. Sometimes in the beginning he’d even slip himself into her single bed, and she wouldn’t kick him out if she was drunk enough. But those days were over, she’d told him.

Nashville would be a different situation. The band was scheduled to play a festival, billed as one of the opening acts. It would be excellent exposure for them, and in return they got free accomodations at the Hilton. It was a sacrifice Amber was willing to make to get the recognition. She’d just decided not to tell the boys until after the show that they weren’t getting paid.

The waitress brought their food and other than the sounds of chewing and swallowing, the occasional burp, the four sat in silence. Amber continued to rub her arms when she could, the coffee doing little to warm her up. She’d wished she’d brought her hoodie, but since it was damn near a hundred degrees outside, she hadn’t even bothered to pull it out of her duffle bag. Suddenly, she felt another set of hands on her skin, and she looked up to see Carter, a small grin on his face as he rubbed her naked arms.

“Cold?” he raised a brow.

“Yeah,” she sighed, allowing his long arms to envelop her as she scooted closer to him.

Her stomach did one of those flip-floppy things that she didn’t like. Okay, maybe she liked it, but she didn’t want to. She’d been firm with Carter that they were not a couple, and he wasn’t supposed to act like they were. He’d reluctantly agreed, what with being in a band together and all. But sometimes he could be really sweet. Sometimes he…

“Can I get you anything else, hon?” the waitress asked.

“I don’t think so,” replied Carter, giving her his best smile as he squeezed Amber tighter with one hand and patted his stomach with the other. “That was great.”

The blond winked at him and set the check beside him before twisting her hips and strutting to the next table. Johnny and Brendan began to pull out their wallets until Amber stopped them.

“I got this one, guys,” she explained, giving Carter a nudge so he’d slide out of the booth.

Brendan shrugged, returning his wallet to his back pocket. Johnny dropped a few ones on the table and folded up the road map. As Amber paid the bill at the counter, Carter slid a hand across her butt and whispered in her ear.

“Meet you in the van.”

Amber nodded. “Be there in a minute. I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Ooh, honey, he’s a cutie,” Amber heard the waitress say when the boys were out of ear-shot. She scoffed.

“He your boyfriend?” the blond continued.

“No,” Amber shook her head as she took her change. “Just my drummer.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Brendan when he opened his hotel room door. “At last! My own room!”

Amber chuckled in the hallway, her duffle bag over her shoulder as she made her way to her room. The door clicked shut behind Brendan, but she could still hear him shouting something about ‘getting used to this’. Johnny’s room was across from Brendan’s, Amber’s next to it.

“I’m so ready for a nap,” she remarked, her card key in the door.

“Now? I thought...maybe we could hang out for a while. In mine.” Carter pointed across the hall.

“I’m exhausted, Carter.”

“I know, but…” he paused, his lips quivering into a suggestive grin, “can’t you be exhausted in here? With me?”

“Ugh...Carter…” Amber groaned. Here we go again, she thought.

“I give great back rubs.”

“I know you do,” she nodded with disinterest. “But I’m not feeling that great. I don’t think that Waffle House agreed with me.”

Amber heard the click of the lock and pushed her door open.

“Amber…”

“Carter,” she rolled her eyes, dropping her bag on the floor next to the bathroom. “I’m going to sleep. See you at dinner.”

Pauline held up the phone so Amber could see Laci dance around the living room in her tutu. Amber beamed and giggled as Laci did the same, twirling like a ballerina.

“Yay!” Amber clapped when Laci was finished. “Good job!”

Laci continued to giggle, her brown curls bouncing as she fell over on the couch, her head in Pauline’s lap.

“She’s been practicing,” Amber’s mom announced.

“I can tell! How’s school?”

“It’s going great. Her teacher says she’s always excited to come and never wants to leave.”

“Aw, I’m glad,” said Amber.

A knock sounded on her door so she rose from the bed to answer it. Carter stood on the other side, his hands in his pockets. Amber lifted a finger and pointed to her cell phone to indicate she was talking on it. Carter nodded and followed her into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. We’re about to go to dinner.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Pauline nodded. “Have fun in Nashville!”

“I will. Bye Laci!” she waved into the phone. The little girl’s head popped into the screen she blew kisses.

“Love youuuuu!”

“I love you too, baby girl.”

Hanging up the call, Amber shoved her phone into her back pocket and looked up at Carter. He’d apparently had a shower, his caramel hair combed back, his clean t-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.

“Ready?” she breathed, hoping he hadn’t noticed how it caught in her throat.

“Yeah, Johnny and Brendan are downstairs.”

“Okay.” Amber stepped into her sandals and walked around him to the door.

“Um...Amber?”

“Yeah?” she stopped.

Carter scratched his stubbled chin before shoving his hand back in his pocket.

“Sorry about...before,” he offered.

Amber chewed her cheek and shrugged. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I know but…” he hesitated, then looked down at his feet. “Hey, I know how you feel about us-”

Amber held up a hand. “There is no us, Carter. We’re friends. Bandmates. That’s all.”

His jaw set so hard he could cut through steel, Carter nodded. “Got it.”

Amber sighed. “Carter…”

Stepping closer to her, he put his hands on her waist.

“We got something, Amber. You might not see it yet, but I do. All those times you cried on my shoulder til four in the morning. Those nights in your bed-”

“It’s over, Carter,” she pushed his hands away.

“But I don’t want it to be.”

Amber swallowed hard as she looked down. “It needs to be,” she whispered.

“But why?”

“Because...that was the old me.”

Amber felt Carter sigh more than heard it. She watched his feet as he stepped around her to open the door.

“You’ll want me again, Amber. Maybe not tonight. But one day you will.”

Amber glared at him as he held the door. Maybe he was right.

Harry didn’t usually stay with his band. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, and it wasn’t an ego thing. It was more of a safety thing. If fans got wind of where Mitch, Sarah, Adam or Clare were, nine times out of ten they figured Harry was somewhere near. They would bombard the hotel just to get a glimpse of him, and sometimes things could get out of hand. And Harry didn’t want his band to feel like they couldn’t get out and see the city if they wanted to. So early on Jeffrey Azoff, his friend and manager, had talked him into staying at a different hotel from theirs. And so far it had worked.

Today, however, Harry decided to join his band in the hotel restaurant - the Hilton where the rest of the band members were staying. He reckoned no one would suspect he would be there, so he could slip in and take a seat with the gang and enjoy a private meal. But he’d thought wrong.

He wasn’t sure if it was the girl who nearly fainted in the lobby, or if there had been paps or someone else outside who’d recognized him, but by the time he made it around the corner near the elevators, just outside the restaurant, he was surrounded. Cursing under his breath, he put on a brave face and greeted the mob of fans.

Fans. That was actually too kind of a word. He knew who his true fans were. They were the ones who bought his album and tickets to his shows. They were outside waiting in a queue for hours so they’d get a good spot in the general admission section. They had websites and blogs and wrote fanfiction and made their own merch. They weren’t waiting outside of hotel restaurants hoping to get a selfie with someone they may or may not actually had heard of, let alone sang along to in the car. But being the Harry Styles that he was, he knew it wasn’t fair to pick and choose. Treat people with kindness, that was his motto. He lived by the golden rule, even when all he wanted to do was get a bloody meal with his friends.

When the last girl had left, a squeak in her voice as she snapped one last photo, Harry strolled into the restaurant, waving at his bandmates who sat in the corner of the nearly empty room. Immediately a waiter came by, setting a glass of water in front of him.

“Evening,” nodded the waiter in a monotone.

“We already ordered for you,” said Clare.

“Oh. Thanks,” Harry grinned, setting his napkin in his lap.

“Guess, this isn’t happening again,” remarked Mitch.

“What isn’t?”

“This,” Mitch gestured. “Dinner at our hotel. You were mobbed.”

Harry shrugged with a sigh. “Yeah. It wasn’t too bad. Coulda been worse.”

Sarah and Mitch glared at him before lifting their glasses simultaneously. The waiter came with their food then, and the mood was lightened with idle chatter. Halfway through his salad, however, Harry could feel eyes upon him. He had a gift, he did. He could always tell when he was being watched. Usually it involved a camera, but when he lifted his gaze to browse the room, he only found a pair of pretty blue eyes. They belonged to a young woman sat at the table across the room, one of only two others occupied in the restaurant presently. She was joined by three other lads, who all seemed to be doing their best to pay attention to themselves and each other, and certainly not to her.

He had no idea how or why. She was cute. She had pouty red lips and a heart-shaped face. And there was no way he could ignore the way she tried to look away when he caught her looking at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Yeah, he would definitely be paying attention to her.

Actually, come to think of it, she looked right familiar to him. Biting his lip, he tried to place her.

A burst of laughter broke his thoughts and he turned his head to see Adam showing the other three a video of his kid on his phone.

“How adorable!” exclaimed Clare.

As Adam scrolled to find another funny video, Harry leaned toward Mitch.

“Hey mate, who’s that?” he pointed to the girl across the room. “Do you know her?”

Mitch shrugged just as Sarah said, “That’s Amber Crosby.”

“Who?” Mitch and Harry asked in unison.

“Amber Crosby? She’s part of the festival tomorrow?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “That’s her and her band.”

“Ohh,” sounded Harry. Amber Crosby, that’s right. He’d heard her single a few times. She was good.

“How do you know this?” inquired Mitch.

“Because I make it a point to keep up with what’s going on,” remarked Sarah, pursing her lips. Mitch mocked her with a face which earned him a pinch.

Harry watched Amber sit with her band, though she might as well had been sat there alone. She reached for her glass of water, taking a sip through a straw before her eyes wandered up and locked with Harry’s again. He caught the slight blush in her cheeks as she quickly averted her gaze and set her glass back down.

“Hey, Harry, are y-” he heard Mitch begin, but he didn’t stay to listen to the rest of the sentence. Instead, he rose from his chair and crossed the room to where Amber sat.

“Hello,” he greeted when he reached her table. “Amber Crosby, right?”

Once again, he didn’t miss the rosiness of her cheeks as she lifted her head.

“Yes,” she smiled up at him.

“I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Harry Styles.”

Amber beamed wider, taking Harry’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“I saw that you’re playing tomorrow,” he half lied.

“Yeah,” Amber made a face. Harry wasn’t sure if it was one of embarrassment or annoyance. But either way, he liked how her nose crinkled when she did it. “I think we’re like second or third. So we’ll be out of here by sundown.”

Harry feigned shock, placing his hand on his chest. “And miss my set?”

Amber giggled. “Well, I don’t want to, but you know…”

“Hey, man,” uttered the straight-nosed guy sat next to Amber. If he hadn’t extended his hand, Harry might have thought he was about to threaten him.

“Oh, sorry!” Amber sat up, addressing the three men at the table. “Harry, this is Carter, Brendan and Johnny. My band. Guys, this is Ha-”

“Harry Styles, man, nice to meet ya!” Carter nearly slapped his hand against Harry’s, making Amber grimace. But Harry was gracious, shaking each man’s hand and making them feel important.

“I’ve heard your song,” said Harry, “it’s really good.”

It was Amber’s turn to cover her heart. “Oh, thank you.”

“Yeah, I’m anxious to hear more.”

His eyes met Amber’s then, making her smile. He didn’t miss Carter’s arm, however, that suddenly stretched across the back of her chair.

“Will you be there tomorrow?” asked Amber. “I mean, as early as we’ll be playing?”

“Yeah, I should be. I’ll be popping in off and on throughout the day.”

“What time are you on?” piped up one of the other lads. Damn, Harry had forgotten their names. Brandon? Brennan?

“We’re on at eight,” replied Harry.

“Oh. We might be gone by then,” Carter declared, his fingers playing on Amber’s shoulder. “We have another gig to get to the next day.”

“Oh, too bad,” Harry frowned, not missing the maneuver Amber pulled to get her shoulder out of Carter’s reach. “Well, just wanted to say hello, and um...best of luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Amber and her band sang.

Harry gave a small wave as he turned back for his table, rejoining his own band.

“What d’you think?” Sarah raised a brow.

“She seems lovely.”

Just then Amber and her band rose from their table, heading for the exit.

“I think I’ll try to introduce myself tomorrow,” said Sarah. “I definitely wanna catch their set.”

But Harry was barely listening. He watched Amber follow the men out of the restaurant, turning around once to wave at him. He smiled and waved back.

He definitely wanted to catch their set too.

Carter thought he heard something. It was a cheap motel, and the walls were very thin. But did he detect the sound of someone crying? Amber’s room was next door. Could it be…

He waited a few more minutes, just to be sure. Then swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat up and walked to the door, hesitating only for a split second before stepping outside.

He knocked gently at first, then thought that was ridiculous and knocked louder. She didn’t answer right away, though that didn’t surprise him. Again, he knocked, this time calling her name.

“Amber! Amber, are you in there?” He knew his question was pointless; of course she was in there. And she was hurting.

He heard the click of the lock before the door opened, just enough to reveal half of her tear-stained face.

“Are you okay?” Another stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay.

She shook her head, her hair falling over her eyes. Carter let out a deep breath.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Amber looked down and shook her head again. “Not really.”

Carter nodded. He wasn’t going to push her.

“Can I...come in?”

Swallowing hard, Amber stepped back, her head still bowed. When Carter shut the door behind him, she finally looked up at him.

“Oh!”

It was only then that it dawned on Carter that he was shirtless. He’d been lying on his bed after returning to his room, still in his jeans, his sweaty t-shirt and shoes discarded across the room in a pile. His mind on getting to Amber, he hadn’t bothered to put on a clean shirt.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

With a sharp turn, Amber ran to the bed, planting herself on it face down.

“Hey,” Carter whispered as he sat down next to her. He watched her back tremble and shake as she cried into her pillow. “Amber…”

When she didn’t reply, he looked around the tiny room. On the nightstand sat a half-empty bottle of whisky. It wasn’t open, but he picked up the empty glass next to it and sniffed it. He made a face as he wondered if she’d already drunk that much tonight.

“Amber,” he said again.

Just as he reached for her, she sat up and wrapped her arms around him. He’d let her cry as much as she wanted; he was willing to wait all night if he needed to. Finally, she lifted her head, wiped her eyes and sniffled.

“I hate my life,” she admitted.

“What?”

“I’m so tired, Carter,” she cried. “So very tired. Of everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sick of trying so hard...when it doesn’t get me anywhere.”

Pushing a strand of her brown hair from her wet, sticky cheek, Carter assumed she meant the band, her music. But then she dropped the bomb.

“I just want someone to love me,” she whined, her big brown eyes searching his face. “Why is that so hard?”

“Amber…”

“Am I unlovable?” she asked.

“What? No!” Carter knew that wasn’t true. Okay, maybe he wasn’t in love with her. But he’d definitely had feelings since they’d met. He knew she’d had a hard life and kept her guard up, but he’d never gotten the whole story. He’d always hoped one day she’d tell him.

“Sometimes…” she hesitated, “sometimes I just wanna end it.”

“End what?” Damn, he was full of dumb questions tonight. He knew the answer. He just hoped he was wrong.

“My life.”

He took her face in his hands then. He wanted to yell at her, shake her into reality. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Amber,” he said firmly.

“Don’t I?” she rolled her eyes. “No one gives a shit about me.”

“I do. I care.”

“You do?” Though her eyelids were heavy, she fluttered her lashes.

Carter could smell the liquor on her breath before he kissed her. He didn’t care. He wanted her to know she was wanted.

She hadn’t asked him to stay that night, but he had anyway. He wanted to make sure she was okay. And when she’d gotten up to puke, he’d held back her hair.

Carter sort of made a habit of staying in Amber’s room after that. About a month or so later, after they shared an entire bottle of whisky, she told him her story.

“Ten minutes,” the stage assistant announced, sending nervous tingles down Amber’s spine.

“Okay, okay,” she breathed, shaking her limbs and fingers. “Let’s do this.”

Just then she heard a voice behind her, one that she recognized from the night before. She turned to see Harry Styles chatting with Brendan along with his bandmates Sarah and Mitch whom she’d met an hour ago. When their eyes met, he smiled widely and stepped toward her.

“Hi, Amber,” he greeted. “Promised I’d make it to see you, and here I am.”

Amber returned his smile, her insides giggling with glee. He hadn’t actually promised that, not in so many words, but she thought it was a nice gesture.

“Good to see you, Harry,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t crack before she even made it to the stage.

“You’ve met Sarah and Mitch,” he confirmed in part question.

“Yes, I did. They’re so nice.”

“I have a great band,” Harry nodded.

“You definitely do. They all seem very fond of you. As they should.”

“Five minutes!”

“I’m on next,” Amber voiced with wide eyes.

“Best of luck to you,” Harry grinned. “You’ll be great.”

“Hope so,” she breathed. She looked around to see her band members coming toward her. For some reason she got more nervous when she made eye contact with Carter.

“Hey, man,” he said as he approached Harry, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, good luck, mate,” Harry reached out his hand to tap Carter’s arm.

“Places people!” the stage hand called.

Amber shrieked, trying to let her body release the last of its nerves. She caught the tiny giggle coming from Harry and gave him a shrug.

“Always nervous,” she muttered.

She hadn’t expected Harry to take her hand then. And she hadn’t expected to feel the electricity that charged through her skin from his touch. And she hadn’t expected the look in his eyes to take all her nerves away and make her feel calm.

“Let’s go!” Carter shouted, his hand on her back as he pushed her onto the stage.

Harry watched Amber Crosby’s short set from backstage. She was good. Better than good, she was fantastic. He loved the tone of her voice, both warm and clear. She had a youthful quality about her while also being very sensual, like some of the classic country females whom he enjoyed. Though he was familiar with the radio hit, he liked her other songs just as much, if not more. He wondered if she wrote them all, and he made it a point to ask her when he got the chance. If he got the chance. He was disappointed that she and her band would be leaving after their set. There was something about her… he didn’t know what exactly, but he wanted to find out.

The crowd cheered after their last song, making Harry smile. He hardly knew this girl, but he was already feeling a sense of pride for her. His own hands clapping eagerly, he watched as the band took a bow together and turned to exit the stage. He felt the presence of two bodies stepping to either side of him, joining him in his applause.

“So what do you think?” asked Sarah.

“I think I just found my new opening act,” Harry replied.

As always feedback is appreciated (even if it is an old fic lol).

[muffinman1st]

Ribbun Week: Day three (Alternate Universe)

Link to Ao3 post: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61210300

College was a new and exciting experience! Or so Gangle was told but just walking towards the dorm already had her having second, third, and fourth thoughts but arriving in front of her new room she knew it was too late to change her mind. Gangle took a deep breath prepared to meet her roommate and grabbed the door handle t--

“Ah!”

The door was opened from inside too fast and before she could let go she went with it, falling face-first on the tiled floor.

“Oh shit! You ok?” The woman asked in concern.

Gangle looked up to see mix-matched stockings of bright colors, looking higher she saw the girl, her roommate, offering a hand to help her up which she took hesitantly. With a strong yank, Gangle was standing in front of the taller girl. She had pink dyed hair, a nose piercing, earrings, and wrapped in a bright fluffy sweater with designs straight out of the eighties.

“Y-yeah I’m fine, sorry,” Gangle assured.

“Glad to hear, you must be Gangle, right? I’m Zooble.” The woman introduced herself.

“Hi Zooble, I’m Gangl- Ah, sorry you already- yeah.” 

Gangle could feel her face going red as a tomato.

“No worries, I’m heading out to get something to eat, wanna come?” Zooble chuckled a little at her antics before offering.

“Thank you, but I need to put my stuff away.” Gangle motioned towards her luggage.

“Alright, next time then. Catch ya later.”

Zooble waved as she sauntered by and down the hallway leaving Gangle to settle in. After dragging all of her bags in, Gangle got a good look around at how her roommate had already decorated her space. Posters, a colorful rug, and all around a vibrant style right next to a blank half of the room which Gangle was quick to make her own.

‘Zooble seems nice, I hope she doesn’t mind my decorations.’

After some time Gangle felt like she made the part of the room her own, a little slice of home. She had just started admiring her work when she heard the door open and turned around expecting Zooble to be back.

“Wow~, looks just like a unicorn threw up in here.” The stranger snickered.

“Who, who are you?” Gangle asked a little panicked.

“Who, me? I’m Jax.” He gave a smile that did not settle her nerves at all.

He was tall, at least a head taller than her even as he leaned on the doorframe, with dyed purple hair. He wore a pinkish sweatshirt and pants, but the look he had told Gangle he was not someone she should associate with.

That didn’t seem to stop him though.

“So you must be Zoobie’s roommate. What’s a girl like you bunking up with someone like her?” Jax asked as he entered the room and started poking around her stuff.

“Yeah, I am, what’s wrong with that?” She asked, annoyed at the brazen intrusion.

She regretted her tone when the man turned back to look at her, a smile reaching his eyes now, and her confidence gone again.

“Well, aren’t you feisty.” He joked.

He walked towards her causing her to step back until her back was against the dresser and he was far too close. Jax leaned down to get eye level with her and gave her a look over.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” He stood back up and walked out the door as he called out, “See ya later girly.”

Gangle stood there, the last few minutes or so being the most confusing of her life, wondering what just happened.

.

.

.

‘Was that Jax?’ Zooble wondered to herself as she saw the familiar silhouette.

She could tell from how he was walking with that stupid grin of his he was feeling really smug right now.

‘Wait, was he coming from my dorm!? Shit!’ The idea of Jax being in her room was already a horrible thought, but how he looked so satisfied with himself and that her roommate was alone in that room made it even worse.

Zooble was sure he didn’t do anything heinous but his pranks aren’t something to be introduced to without warning. Her first experience was a wild raccoon in her room, how Jax managed to get it was still a mystery.

Rushing to her room Zooble had time to think of all the bad things that could have happened and raced in through the still-opened door. She looked around for anything broken, glitter-bombed, or whatever nonsense he came up with this time. Instead, she found her roommate Gangle with a confused and blushing face.

It took her a moment to put it together. Gangle was kinda short, with shortish black hair, and glasses. That along with her overall meek personality meant one thing.

She was Jax’s favorite type of person to tease.

“Goddammit Jax.” Zooble sighed out with her face in her hands.

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 1

It is I, @dystopicjumpsuit, with a fic written especially for my beloved longtime reader @goblininawig!

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves) 

Rating: T but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings and tags: fluff; minor angst; Star Wars swearing; Boil is canonically a bit of a tool; Boil still has his mustache 

Summary: Boil and his friends visit a fortune-telling shop during a night out on Coruscant.

A/N: There will be at least one more chapter coming soon. Don't worry, it ends happily 🧡

Suggested listening: "Reaching for the Moon," by Ella Fitzgerald

https://open.spotify.com/track/1PSpnTbP2TnstBbSpcGWGb?si=efc74bbdd4c34465

Stak, Razor and Wooley were approaching the raucous stage of inebriation as Boil sipped his iazacal liquor and watched them in stoic silence. By his calculation, they had about thirteen minutes left before they all got eighty-sixed from 79’s. They probably would have made it, except some shiny from the 104th got a little overly familiar with the pretty Twi'lek bartender, raising Wooley's immediate ire. The ensuing confrontation got them all kicked out and banned from the club for a week.

Boil would have happily gone back to the GAR barracks and pretended to sleep, but the others were determined to make the most of their first night of shore leave, and so they ventured out into the frigid, rainy night to explore the district around the clone bar in search of further entertainment. 

They didn't have to look far; the entertainment district was packed with all varieties of businesses eager to separate tourists from their credits. Unfortunately, most of them also had signs proclaiming “NO CLONES ALLOWED” displayed prominently in their windows.

We're good enough to die for them, but not good enough for them to let us have lives, he reflected bitterly.

“Look, that one allows clones,” Stak said, pointing to a small shop illuminated by lurid neon signs.

“A fortune teller?” Boil scoffed. “Might as well just toss your credits into the underworld portal. It'll get you the same result in the end.”

“Don't be such a kriffin’ buzzkill,” Wooley said. “I want to find out if there's a tall, good-looking stranger in my future.”

“If that's how you describe a super-battle droid, I'd say the odds are good,” Boil retorted.

“Well, I’m not going to stand out in the rain,” Stak said, overruling Boil’s objections.

Thus, the troopers soon found themselves in a cramped, stuffy room that reeked of incense and was cluttered with a dizzying array of mystical and occult paraphernalia. Their damp wool uniforms smelled like wet hounds, and condensation fogged the windows, making the neon city outside look blurry and dreamlike. The four fortune tellers who greeted them were dressed in elaborate, flamboyant robes that Boil highly doubted were authentic to any culture in the galaxy, but they were very effective in giving them an otherworldly—almost fantastical—air. 

Stak opted to have his palm read; Razor was intrigued by the card reader; and Wooley opted for runes, leaving Boil alone with the remaining con artist—er, fortune teller. He sized up the civvie before him, trying not to look openly hostile as he searched for the words to politely decline whatever snake oil remained to be peddled. Before he could speak, though, the charlatan—kriff—fortune teller gave him a dazzling smile, and Boil blinked, taken completely off guard.

You weren't particularly surprised when the first three troopers quickly paired up with your partners. Their styles of fortune telling were certainly flashier and more attractive to many customers than your quieter approach. Still, none of them could boast the numbers of loyal repeat customers that flocked to you again and again. The difficulty lay in convincing them to give you a chance in the first place.

The remaining clone did not look like the type to give you a chance. He stared at you and your partners with hard, jaded eyes and a mouth set in a firm line beneath his mustache. As his fellow troopers paired off one at a time with the other mediums, he looked more and more skittish, until it was just the two of you left in the reception room. It was clearly time to break out your secret weapon.

You gave him your patented brilliant smile that walked the perfect line between welcoming and subtly flirtatious. “Welcome. Am I right in thinking that your brothers wanted to have their fortunes read, and they insisted you come with them?”

He blinked at the force of your smile, then gave you the most reluctant half-smile you’d ever seen. “That obvious?”

“I don’t need to be psychic to see that you don’t want to be here,” you replied.

He laughed shortly. “No offense, but I don’t believe in any of this.”

“No offense taken. Perhaps you'd like to join me for a cup of tea while you wait for your brothers. When they're finished, you can pretend I read your tea leaves. No charge, of course.” You gave him a cheeky grin. “I won't tell if you don't.”

Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders at your offer. “Thanks. That’d be… nice.”

You led him into your reading room and invited him to sit wherever he liked. He looked around the room curiously before settling onto the ancient velvet sofa. You began to prepare a pot of tea for the two of you to share.

“Not exactly what I was expecting,” he observed as he looked around the cozy space furnished with soft, somewhat shabby furniture and bathed in the soft light of a few old-fashioned lamps. “Where are all the crystals and tchotchkes?”

“I prefer to minimize distractions during readings,” you replied. “Though as you can see, I do try to make it as comfortable as possible for my guests.”

“‘Guests,’” he snorted. “Is that what you call them?”

You raised your eyebrows at his tone. “Yes. And while I fully accept that you are skeptical of the services we provide, I draw the line at outright rudeness. If you intend to insult me, my colleagues, or our guests, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

He flinched, realizing he’d overstepped. “Apologies.”

You accepted his begrudging apology as you finished brewing the tea and arranged a small plate of sweet pastries. You had plenty of experience with the clone troopers, and you knew they tended to have a sweet tooth. Besides, you’d smelled the unmistakable scent of iazacal wafting off of him, and you hoped that his sullen mood might improve if he sobered up a bit. Hence, tea and pastries.

He tugged his gloves off and laid them neatly on the low table, wrapping his hands around the cup of tea you passed him. It was a cold night, and his uniform was damp from the rain, so it was no surprise to feel the chill of his skin when his fingers brushed against yours as you handed him the drink. You poured a cup for yourself, then curled up with the other at the opposite end of the small sofa, tucking your feet under you and leaving a small gap between yourself and him. His eyes flickered over you briefly as you sat. At least his expression was no longer actively hostile, though you also wouldn’t exactly describe him as friendly. He sniffed the tea curiously. 

“Is this magical tea?” he asked in a faintly mocking tone.

“Certainly not,” you replied with dignity. “I never perform spellwork on someone without their consent. Besides, the magic tea is too expensive to give away for free.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” he said.

You merely gave him a mysterious smile. “I didn’t catch your name earlier.” 

“Don’t you know it already?” he asked with a tiny smirk.

“Never heard that one before,” you said drily.

“You’re right. It was a low-hanging meiloorun,” he admitted. “Name’s Boil.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Boil,” you said.

“Now I know you’re lying,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Fine, it’s an… experience to meet you,” you laughed. “What are you boys up to this fine Coruscanti evening?”

He shrugged. “Same as every shore leave. Gettin’ kriffed up. Tryin’ not to think too hard.”

You nodded. It wasn’t the first time a clone trooper had said something similar to you, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Is it working?”

He met your eyes. “Might have if those di’kuts hadn’t gotten us kicked out of the bar.”

“Music is better here.”

He frowned. “I don’t hear any music.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed, a genuine laugh for the first time since he’d walked into your shop. “You’re not wrong. What about you? Busy night?”

“Oh, you know, fleecing innocent tourists, bewitching unsuspecting troopers on shore leave, making pacts with the forces of darkness, eating more pastry than I should.”

“So an average Centaxday, then,” he said with a grin. When he smiled, his entire face transformed. His eyes lit; the lines of stress eased on his forehead; and he looked younger, less hardened.

“Maybe a few less blood sacrifices than usual,” you said with a smile.

“We’ve all had to cut back in this economy,” he replied, deadpan.

“So true. We should protest in front of the Senate building.”

“You’d certainly catch some eyes in that,” he said, gesturing toward your elaborate costume. 

“Then I must be doing it right,” you replied with a tiny smirk.

“So it’s all for show, then?” he asked, his voice neutral, but his eyes speculative.

You took a delicate sip of your tea and sighed with pleasure at the taste. “People have certain… expectations about the way someone in my line of work will look. Who am I to disappoint them?”

“So you exploit their expectations to manipulate them for profit,” he observed without heat.

“You certainly don’t pull your punches,” you said. It was far from the worst accusation you’d had flung at you by a disgruntled customer, but it still stung to learn that you sat so low in his opinion. “Do you feel like I’m swindling you with free tea and pastries?”

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then rose back to meet your eyes. “Nothing is free.”

“And you say I’m the cynical one,” you replied with a level stare.

“Just an observation.”

“And what else do you observe about me?” you asked.

He sat back and surveyed you slowly, raking his eyes down your body. You felt your pulse kick up at his scrutiny; you were accustomed to people eyeing you like a piece of meat—so many would-be guests didn’t seem to comprehend the difference between paying for your services and paying for your body—but rarely did you have the sense that someone truly perceived you. You sat calmly with a slight, defiant tilt to your jaw, refusing to let him know he’d rattled you.

“For starters,” he said, “the fortune teller act is just that: an act. You've gotten a little tired of it, but it pays the bills.”

“I prefer ‘medium.’”

He laughed mirthlessly. “But you don’t deny the rest.”

“Would you believe me if I did?”

He didn’t reply, but merely took a long drink of tea. “I can also tell that you're clever, charming, and very good at reading people. How am I doing so far?”

“You should have led with that,” you replied, adjusting the drape of your robes. “The flattery would have made it easier to swallow being called a fraud.”

“Like I said. Just an observation.”

You smiled faintly. “Shall I tell you what I observe about you?”

“Seems fair,” he said with a confident smirk. “I’m just an amateur, after all. Can’t wait to see the master at work.”

You leaned forward slightly and gazed deeply into his eyes. After a few seconds, he glanced away, setting his half-empty cup of tea down on the low table, then he sat back and folded his arms over his chest, staring back at you with his jaw set in a stubborn line.

“You lost someone,” you said softly.

He huffed derisively, looking away. “We’re in a war. Everybody has lost someone.”

“Not just someone,” you replied, unperturbed by his interruption. “A brother.”

His eyes jolted back to yours. “Everyone knows we clones call each other ‘brother.’ We’re bred to die. It’d be more surprising if I hadn’t lost a brother.”

He snatched up his teacup and tossed back the rest of the tepid brew, his eyes hard and angry.

“May I see your cup?” you asked.

His brows snapped together as he eyed you suspiciously, but he handed it over. You gave him a soft, reassuring smile, but he didn’t relax as you peered down into his cup to examine the leaves that clung to the delicate porcelain.

“There’s a word,” you said slowly. “It’s not Basic or Sy Bisti. It could be a name.”

Despite himself, he leaned closer, trying to see what you saw.

“Boil… does ‘Nerra’ mean anything to you?”

Boil shot to his feet, staggering backward. “How do you know that?”

His voice was hoarse and strained. You set down the cup carefully and rose from the sofa.

“How the hell do you know that?” he repeated, his voice a menacing growl as he advanced a step closer to you.

Quite suddenly, he seemed to tower over you, and your heart raced as you realized that you could be in real danger. You subtly reached for the small panic button that you kept concealed in one of your many bracelets, but before you could call for help, he whirled abruptly and stormed out of the shop into the torrential downpour of the dark Coruscant night.

You sagged with relief and closed your eyes as you leaned against the wall, breathing hard. I’m safe. He didn’t hurt me. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a pair of leather gloves sitting on the low table. You didn’t need to read the leaves in the bottom of your cup to know that he’d be back.

[jiminiecrickets]

So you mentioned that (love's little dagger part 2) oc hooked up with jimin and tae saw jimin in oc's bed.

Can I request a drabble where tae tells oc (after seeing jimin in oc's bed) that next time they should keep it quiet (tae is jealous) and oc provokes him? ^^

kinda nsfw but not really?

your bedroom door is slightly ajar. taehyung can't help but step towards it naturally, a bubbling taste of something bitter rising up his throat and settling in his mouth.

the shower is on, muffled water hitting the tile passing through the crack under the door. you just got in. you won't be out for a few minutes more.

taehyung watches himself place his hand on the handle, pushing it open an inch wider to catch the edge of your bed in view. half of your curtains are open and late morning sunlight leak through, bathing the foot of the bed in pale light, and sparse dust motes float through the air.

there's a pretty boy in your bed – pretty in that awful fae-like way, too good to be true. even dead asleep, limbs wrapped around himself and framing his soft face, his slightly-parted lips are sweetly pink, and his hair appears silky, messy in the way taehyung spends half an hour perfecting in the bathroom mirror.

the boy shifts with a soft breath, tucking his face into the crook of his arm. the sheets slip down around his bare waist.

taehyung's hand slides off the handle and he rolls his eyes, jaw working as he stomps into the kitchen.

why him? he thinks, annoyed. the moment the kettle finishes boiling, he steals it and pours himself a cup of instant coffee. of all the people you bring back, why him?

he's shoving spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth on the couch, watching a replay of last night's news, when he hears footsteps leading into the kitchen. you don't greet him, but he knows it's you by the way you exhale softly, popping your back before you place a pan on the stove and dig around in the fridge for some eggs.

"is this some sort of revenge?"

you glance up, only to find taehyung tucked up on the furthest side of the couch, determinedly not looking at you. you scoff and crack a couple of eggs one-handed against the side of the quickly-heating pan. "not everything revolves around you, taehyung."

"but this does, doesn't it?" he taps his spoon absently against the rim of his bowl as you turn on the stove fan, as if to drown him out. "fucking pretty boys just 'cause you can isn't your style."

"you know what my style is? didn't know you cared so much," you say wryly, grabbing a spatula out of a drawer. "why? you jealous, puppy?"

"only a loser would be jealous over a thing like you," he says rudely, and you make a face of mock hurt, touching your heart.

"ouch. long diary entry about that tonight."

he stops speaking, moody in his corner of the living room. you flip eggs, humming to yourself, and reach for the pack of bacon, eventually replacing the eggs with hot bacon. you take a moment to cover the eggs with a plate and find yourself face-to-face with taehyung on the other side of the kitchen island, glaring at you as if he's imagining eighty different ways to kill you on the spot.

"what? you want some?"

"out of all the boys you could bring back, how do you always know who the loud ones are?" he blurts out, his cereal bowl in hand.

you lift an eyebrow and half-assedly bite back your smirk. you begin to butter four slices of bread. "are you offering something, taehyung?"

he lunges forward an inch or two, as if moving to leap the island and wrap his hands around your throat. he settles for a deep scowl, flicking his bangs out of his eyes.

"you disgust me," he seethes, and doesn't even put his bowl in the sink. he rests it on the bench, relishing in the way you glance at it and your jaw ticks. "you're so fucking petty. bet your boy wouldn't like it if i told him you're only sleeping with him for revenge points against me."

"oh, he knows i'm better than that," you retort, resisting the urge to place your palms on the bench and mirror his stance. you give him one last glance before turning back to the stove, flipping the bacon and letting it sizzle a little longer to match the colour on the other side. "you're the one going on and on about 'revenge' and everything. are you sure you're not just making it up to justify your continuing dislike towards me?"

his mouth falls open. "that's gaslighting. that's actually gaslighting. that's so fucking rude."

"it's only gaslighting if it works. is it working?" carefully, you remove the bacon and reach over by him, winking as you grab your bread. you grin to yourself as he growls, and you set the buttered bread in the middle of the pan with a hiss and a sizzle.

"what is your fucking deal, dude? why are you so against me? i bring some company back, and then you go out and do it twice as bad as i do. twice as loud, twice as long, twice a night." he lists them on his fingers. "i'm about to stop being nice to you if this is the kind of thanks i get: no sleep and no peace."

you scoff. "that was you being nice? shit. i shouldn't've held back, then. could've gotten double the 'pretty boys' in that time. you could've joined, if you wanted to."

"join—?" he sputters. "join—! what gives you the impression i want to sleep with you, huh? what keeps giving you that impression? or is this some kind of immature boyish humour that everyone else left behind in ninth grade? fucking 'do i want to sleep with you'..."

a figure appears in the hallway, pattering down into the kitchen with a delicate yawn. he stretches, lifting his too-big white t-shirt above his hips. he wears a tiny pair of black briefs, and taehyung can't believe it. this boy has his own clothes drawer in your room. jesus christ.

"good morning to you, too, dolly." you grin, bringing a plate with a toastie over to him as he takes a gentle seat on the edge of a stool, shooting taehyung a sweet smile. you retrieve a knife from a drawer and cut the toastie for him diagonally, gently pulling the halves apart to show him the perfect golden insides: egg, bacon, cheese. you can never go wrong with a classic.

"morning," he hums, swinging his legs. he combs his fluffy hair back from his forehead and giggles as you bring your own plate over and cut it in half, leaning over the bench with an elbow crossed over your front. "you did all this for me, hyung?"

"mm, of course. you've got classes until six today – i want you to get a good breakfast."

"you're too sweet," he coos, picking up a warm triangle of savoury goodness. he takes a big bite out of one corner and moans, brushing his fingers lightly over his glossy lips as he stares up at you with crinkled eyes.

"you're exaggerating. i do this all the time for you."

"hm – maybe it's the new reason? what was the entrée to this, again?" he grins, leaning forward, and subconsciously, so do you, glancing up at each other between bites and hiding your smiles behind slices of crisp toasted bread.

"this is disgusting to watch," taehyung says bluntly, standing up. "i'm heading out. please keep all your fluids to your bedroom, i insist."

you watch him grab his jacket and bag, whisking out of the apartment with a whip of hair and a glare. you smirk behind your toastie, clearing your throat to stop a laugh.

he's always been a drama queen.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Permanent 99

Prompt Day 30: Smut Themed Sentence Starters | Word Count: 2811 | Rating: E | CW: Sexual Content, 18+ Only | Tags: Sports AU, Swimming AU, Modern Setting, Eddie & Gareth are BFFs, Olympic Swimmers, Heat Wave, Outdoor Fooling Around, Blowjob, Eddie POV

This follows my Sports AU drabble from @steddieholidaydrabbles where they were Olympic Swimmers, but can be read standalone.

This one is also available right here on AO3.

we're hot and sticky as we can get, don't need to go swimming to be soakin' wet, you lean in and you bite my lip, it's hard to be cool in heat like this, sweat drop at the end of your nose, makes you lose your mind and lose your clothes Christian Kane, Permanent 99

Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes, attempting to block out the way too bright sun and wipe the sweat away from his forehead at the same time. 

The strips of cheap vinyl from the PVC lounger are sticking to his bare back and he can't seem to shift in any way to get comfortable with the feeling. Steve is worth millions, but he's dragged out some old as shit, tri-fold lounge chairs from last century. They had to have been stashed in his parents' pool house, left over from the eighties, faded from sun and years of disuse. If Eddie's going to be subjected to the summer sun, he's definitely gonna need a newer chair, because this is really not working for him. 

He's sticking to it in ways that feel really gross.

That has a lot to do with the fact that it's so humid it's almost insufferable. The glare off of the water isn't helping matters. It's blinding him, even through his sunglasses. They've spent a lifetime looking at pool water, so Eddie's not entirely sure why they're still doing it now, on their own time.

“It’s hot as shit,” Eddie finally announces, moving his arm just enough to catch a glimpse of Steve next to him.

Steve smiles, seemingly unconcerned by the unrelenting heat. 

He's tanned, and glistening in the sun, looking every bit of a Greek god. That bastard.

Eddie's actually seen Steve in Athens, at the fucking Olympiad itself, and he damn well didn't look anything like he does right now. Steve was only nineteen then, still just a kid chasing a dream. And, now he's a man. A gorgeous man.

Eddie is pretty sure he looks like an overheated, wet cat in comparison. A pitiful thing that probably just needs put down.

But Eddie grins, because retirement looks good on Steve Harrington. Damn good. Retired before thirty. That's quite the thing to wrap his head around. 

But that's not going to stop Eddie's complaining.

“From now on, summer months will be spent strictly indoors. It's too hot, and I’m too pale for this,” Eddie declares, as if that is the final decision on the subject matter.

It isn't. Not if his perpetually sun-kissed boyfriend has a say in the matter.

Steve just rolls his eyes, and doesn’t look away from his magazine, "You made the worst dressed list, again," Steve offers, flashing the glossy pages in his direction. "They put you on the fug list."

Well, Eddie doesn't give a flying fug what that rag thinks. He's gonna wear what he's gonna wear. 

"And let me guess, you're in the other column?" Eddie asks, but he already knows it. Ever since they went public with their relationship after retirement, they've been tabloid fodder. Everyone has been speculating on how long this has been going on (since Athens) and how long it will last (hopefully forever) and they've picked apart every last detail of their lives they can get their hands on. And their very different style choices have been a popular topic of conversation.

Steve retired, Eddie didn't. Until he did. And now, they're both out of the meat grinder, free at last to do whatever they want to with all this brand new free time. Eddie's had fun running swim clinics for kids, and Steve has been funneling his time and money into his charitable foundation.

The rest of the time, they spend lazing together, just like this. Finally getting to really build this relationship of theirs into something even deeper, and stronger, than ever before.

They can't leave swimming, not totally. It's in their blood. But it's nice to be away from the early practices and constant sacrifices you have to make to be an Olympian, not just once, but several Games in a row.

Their not-so-secret love went public at Eddie's last Games, when Steve showed up, but kept out of the announcer's booth, and refused to be interviewed. He wasn't there for his own promo. Everybody was pissy about it, wanting a piece of him, wanting the ratings boost his voice, his face, would bring in. But Steve was only there to see Eddie, Gareth and the rest of his friends on Team USA swim, that's it.

So, it didn't take long for rumors to reach a fever pitch, and instead of denying them. They just admitted they were together, and had been, for a very long time. And now, they were looking forward to retirement, together. 

And that was that. 

They've been holed up at Steve's house ever since, trying to keep away from prying eyes, to just be together. With no other commitments. No early practices. No strict diets.

They're just Eddie and Steve. No longer Harrington and Munson.

But, Eddie's getting a little stir crazy and a lot hot. He needs to be anywhere but beside a pool right now.

“I haven’t even set foot in the goddamn pool and I’m sweating through my trunks,” Eddie whines, just making sure his opinion on the subject has been heard by Steve, loud and clear.

“Shoulda rocked the banana hammock, bro,” Steve supplies with a shrug of his shoulders, laughing loudly, totally unbothered by Eddie’s constant bitching. 

Eddie smiles, "Don't call me bro, dude."

Steve giggles, and it's the best sound. So carefree. All that weight of expectation just…gone. It was amazing to see. Retired from professional swimming, Steve doesn’t sweat the small stuff, not anymore. And Eddie is one hundred percent down for that.

"Speedos aren’t exactly casual pool wear, regardless of what you might think, Harrington,” Eddie adds.

“Sure they are,” Steve answers, waving his hand over his lap.

Eddie looks over at Steve, and lowers his sunglasses down his nose. Steve's wearing a tiny, all-white Speedo that Eddie can't look away from. It was a purposeful choice, Eddie is well aware. 

Steve's baiting him. 

And the white makes it basically see through. It’s nearly obscene and Eddie knows damn good and well Steve wore it on purpose, knowing he’d either sweat through it, and make it see through, or end up in the pool…and make it see through. 

Eddie knows this game well and it sadly always, always works on him. He's an easy mark. Always has been when it comes to Steve Harrington.

Eddie pushes his glasses back up on his face.

“You're right, the Federation should have forgotten all about the tech suits and went back to those," Eddie says, licking his lips, wetting them. Two can play at this game.

There’s a sweat drop clinging to the end of Steve’s nose and Eddie reaches over to catch it with his thumb. Raking his eyes all over Steve.

"Is this seriously turning you on?" Steve asks, lifting an eyebrow. "I'm basically wearing an old work uniform."

Eddie just nods, looking at every inch of Steve's body. Still toned, but already going slightly softer in places. Not to mention all the body hair. Steve's hairy, when the fuck did that happen? After only knowing him as the shaved and waxed swimmer, this has been a fucking revelation of a magnitude Eddie can't even put into words. 

Steve's a man. No longer the kid he was when they met, a million years and a million miles away from here.

"You're staring," Steve says, teasing him, and Eddie just nods. He's definitely staring and he'll do it some more. 

Steve smiles and sets his magazine down and crawls over onto Eddie’s lounger, straddling Eddie’s thighs. It creaks and shifts under them, and Eddie holds his breath, and prepares for the little metal legs to collapse. It doesn't, miraculously, and Steve takes Eddie's stillness for an opportunity to lean in and bite at Eddie’s bottom lip before Eddie can, well, give him any more lip. Eddie groans a little at the feeling, hands settling on Steve’s hips. Steve deepens the kiss and runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-damp hair.

When they finally break apart, Steve is even slicker with sweat than he was before, but he just grins down at Eddie.

“Let’s go in,” Eddie urges, thumbs tracing lazy circles on Steve’s exposed hip bones. Running his thumb over Steve's Olympic rings tattoo that's just barely peeking over the top of the tiny Speedo. 

Steve took Eddie to get his own rings tattoo after his first Olympics, and Eddie took Gareth after his. It's a sacred tradition. 

Eddie presses his thumb into the slightly faded ink, then dips it lower, stroking until he feels coarse hair under his thumb. Then, he's sliding his other hand up and down Steve's hairy thigh. More hair. Hair for days.

In fact, Steve’s chest hair is damp and right in Eddie’s face. It’s driving him a little wild. Steve spent so many years shaved, that this has been a goddamn turn on. Eddie leans forward and buries his face in Steve's chest.

Steve just laughs, and pushes Eddie back down, nipping at Eddie’s neck playfully, “S’good out here.”

“Think of the air conditioning. And the big, big bed.”

“This is bed-like,” Steve insists, reaching over and hitting the lever sending the chaise flat. The unsteady metal legs wobble comically and Eddie laughs as Steve topples over on top of him ungracefully. It's a nice change of pace, since Eddie often feels like he's the ungraceful one nearly everywhere but in the water. Always one wrong move from a trip to the E.R., while Steve stands by, shaking his head. 

Eddie’s fairly certain this flimsy-ass chair can't hold their combined weight indefinitely, even without Steve trying to fuck him through it. But he still runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling him closer, encouraging him. 

He'll ride this train into the ground, without question. 

Steve closes his eyes, and grinds down against him.

Eddie grips Steve’s hips, resting his fingers against Steve’s ass, cupping him through the Speedo. When he squeezes his fingers underneath the tight material, Steve opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s, and Eddie just raises an eyebrow, questioning.

“By all means,” Steve answers, lifting up enough for them to work together to get it shimmed off his ass.

It isn’t easy. Removing a wet Speedo never is, and Steve’s wallering him in the process. Eddie almost takes a knee to the nuts, but they finally get it peeled off Steve's hips and tossed onto the ground. 

Steve unties Eddie’s trunks and pulls the Velcro closure apart loudly. He snakes his hand inside and closes his fist around him, and Eddie can’t help but buck up into the tight grip. 

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie pants, leaning back further, enjoying the feeling.

Steve smiles and leans forward, chasing him, licking a path of sweat off of Eddie’s chest. It makes Eddie shiver unexpectedly and he can’t stop himself from tangling his hand in Steve’s hair. Urging him lower. Steve takes the hint. He always does.

He pushes apart Eddie's trunks, getting himself better access, and Eddie lifts up, to let him tug them down a little further, but not all the way off. 

Eddie groans when Steve’s mouth makes contact with his dick.

He rests his hand on Steve's head, feeling every movement from above and below. Steve's a gold medal cocksucker, that's for goddamn sure. 

"That's good, sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve hums in acknowledgement, head moving up and down, hand doing the rest of the work in tandem. 

Eddie slides his hand down to Steve's face, pressing his palm to his stubbly cheek, and Steve changes the angle, so the head of Eddie's dick now hits the inside of his cheek with every bob of his head, bumping against Eddie's palm.

Steve's teasing him, playing with him, but it's fucking hot. 

So hot, and it's all Eddie can take, honestly, and he arches his hips off the chair, coming. 

Steve pulls off, and makes eye contact as he swipes his tongue around his mouth, gathering up Eddie's come on his tongue, which he shows Eddie, before swallowing.

"You're gonna kill me," Eddie says, as he moves to wrap his hand around Steve's hard dick, but Steve holds up one finger, wagging it at him. 

And then he slides fully on top of Eddie, and ruts into his hip. Using Eddie to get himself off.

Jesus H. Christ. 

Retired Steve is his favorite version, so far. Even more than top of the podium Steve. Or secret locker room blowjob Steve.

This version? His to keep? This is the one. 

Steve's breathing heavy into Eddie's ear, hot puffs of air and soft moans that make Eddie wish he could get hard again right now. Eddie digs his fingers into Steve's slick back, just along for the ride. Getting to enjoy the sights and sounds of Steve working hard. Breath catching with exertion. 

It's so familiar, and yet, brand new.

Steve lets out a groan in Eddie's ear, and then comes inside Eddie's shorts, and that's a new feat, for sure. 

Steve clearly doesn't give a fuck if he glues himself to Eddie's pubic hair, as he lays down on Eddie fully. Naked, sated and happy. This is the kind of hot Eddie isn't going to complain about. 

He almost says so, when he feels the whoosh of air blow past his arm before there’s a splash in the pool. He freezes. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, even if he’s certain it’s only Gareth. Maybe Robin, if he's really unlucky.

Steve's house has a revolving door. You never know who's gonna show up, unannounced.

And Eddie can't help it, he flushes even further, cheeks red and hot, totally embarrassed. 

When Eddie finally cracks an eye open, he laughs when he sees Gareth standing in the pool, right at the edge. Arms folded, head resting on them. Staring right at Eddie. Gareth has no shame and doesn’t get embarrassed easily, if ever. 

Just like Steve, honestly.

How he's surrounded himself with these two, he's not exactly sure.

"Whatcha guys been doin'?" Gareth drawls out, like he can't see Steve's bare ass in his face and know exactly what they were doing. 

Gareth's caught them fucking in several countries at this point. This is nothing. It's not even in the top ten most compromising positions he's seen them in. But still. Eddie could do without it, for sure.

Gareth's dog, Bonzo, is prancing around poolside, barking and jumping, just as hyper as his owner.

Steve just shakes his head, leaning over and picking up his discarded Speedo and walks back towards the house, like it’s no big deal to be walking around the backyard, totally naked. It's nothing Gareth hasn't seen before, to be certain. They've all spent far too many years together, in far too many locker rooms. 

Still, Eddie lifts his hips, and gets his trunks back up and securely fastened. He’s not about to get caught naked if he can help it. Unlike Steve, he does have some shame, and doesn’t exactly desire his junk getting featured on TMZ.

Some days, Eddie thinks Steve's just daring them to run dick pics of him. Probably because he knows what he's packing, and nobody in their right mind is gonna give his dick bad press. 

Definitely not Eddie. No way.

Eddie is about to get up, when Bonzo seizes the opportunity for the freed up premium seating, and jumps up onto Eddie’s lap.

Eddie hears the chair give way before he feels it. Soon enough they’re both falling to the ground. It’s a short fall, but Eddie still scrapes his elbow on the concrete and Bonzo shoots him daggers as if this whole mess was Eddie's fault, as the dog darts away from the scene of the crime, and towards the house, trying to catch up with Steve.

Steve clearly saw it happen, and he’s doubled over laughing near the sliding glass doors, still naked, and Eddie really doesn’t find it all that funny. 

“Fuck you, asshole, that hurt!” Eddie yells across the yard as he awkwardly untangles himself from the wreckage. Steve just laughs harder, and as much as Eddie wants to, it’s hard for him to stay mad at Steve.

Eddie gets up and surveys the collapsed heap of vinyl and aluminum. It looks like it's a total loss, and that does make Eddie smile, fully thankful that the chair from hell finally met its overdue end.

He jogs to catch up with Steve, hoping to slide in the shower with him, where Steve will kiss his wounded pride all better, and maybe go for round two. 

Notes: Song is Permanent 99 by Christian Kane. It's not on Spotify, or I'd just embed it. Gareth's dog is Bonzo, after John Bonham. Because I still like to think he's a drummer in this world, and that still plays with Eddie here, too. They just took their focus elsewhere.

This is the kind of chair I'm talking about, which they're still making apparently?! I had no idea.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my tag right here!

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Imagine Tony trying different beard styles until he finally settles on the goatee. And then he always asks what his girl thinks of it, if he looks handsome, if that beard style feels nice for her beard burn wise... oh and I'm sure she'd laugh at him if his beard looks too ridiculous. And Rhodes would totally join in to poke fun at Tony with her lol

Trial and error

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader & Rhodey makes an appearance.

Warning: 18+ smut themes? But full of fluff..

.

“How long has he been in there?”

“About half an hour, maybe more.”

You answered Rhodey and chuckled, hearing something clatter from inside the bathroom where your boyfriend was, shaving.

“I have a feeling this will either be really good or really bad.”

“I bet twenty it will be the latter.” Rhodey snickered.

“Possibly.” FRIDAY chimed in, even thought she was a bot, it sounded as if she too was enjoying herself.

Walking up to the door, you knocked on it twice and called him to make sure he was okay. A tiny crack open indicated he had let you in and you did, throwing a wink to your common friend.

“Tony what’s taking so long—” your sentence was cut short when you saw the man, clean shaven minus a moustache that made him look rather comical.

His eyes bored into yours for a reaction while you tried to keep your giggles at bay that threatened to escape. Covering your mouth with your hand, you blinked a couple of times and tried your best to form words.

“I—it’s different.” You managed.

“Good different?” He looked at his reflection before back at you with expectation.

“Umm..I mean I haven’t seen you like this like ever. It’s—it’s different Tony.” Your face probably did a poor job of hiding the amusement and humour from it as you opened the bathroom door wide open for Tony’s best friend to witness it all.

“What the—” Rhodey had the same reaction that you did, walking closer he too covered his mouth to hide his grin.

“It’s not good, is it? I knew it.” Tony sighed dejected.

“I mean if you were going for that eighties porn star vibe, you have nailed it.” 

Rhodey’s comment made you burst out laughing, with Tony looking between the two of you utterly betrayed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he stormed back inside the bathroom.

You made it just in time, holding the door and forcing yourself in as your giggles died down. Wrapping your arms around the man you loved, you laid your head against his shoulder and stared at your reflection.

“Okay, it isn’t so bad, Tony. I promise.” You pressed a loving kiss on his cheek, already missing the stubble that you were so used to.

The man let out an exaggerated exhale, rested his head on top of yours.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, we can role play. You be the sexy delivery man and I’ll tear open your package..”

You smirked, laughing out loud when Tony pushed you away and huffed. Outside, you could hear Rhodey chuckle knowing he was listening to you.

“Oh get lost you two!”

[enid-rhees]

Okay so that idea you have about the reader bringing Enid piercings got me thinking about non-apocalyptic/pre-apocalyptic Enid au...

Imagine being in your senior year with Enid, cept' she looks more like this:

*just pretend this is Enid not Elisia lmao-*

Andddd reader has a crush on Enid. She's intrigued by her piercings and her style...

So one day, Enid catches reader staring during class and teases her later on for it.

AGHHH IDK, I HAVE SO MANY Highschool!Enid au IDEASSS-

I'm sorry this is incredibly confusing...idek what I'm saying at this point haha, I'm high af rn 💀✋

ohhhh i love this and i’m able to picture this super cute interaction AAAA okay okay (and i am too 😭)

warnings: none! it’s just a really cute story :’)) although maybe a warning bc i based part of this on how it used to be in high school for me kinda (mostly the lunch part)

a/n: hope u all enjoy! 🫶🏻 requests are back open! if you’d like to request, just read pinned! all info is there :) also for the plot, you are an adopted Grimes child.

you hated math. everything about it was confusing, and you were never able to get the hang of it. the class was long, the teacher was boring, you would quite literally wish to be anywhere but here.

there was only one good thing about math class: Enid Rhee.

Enid Rhee is the girl that sat in the desk across from you. she was smart, insanely pretty, and had this nose piercing that somehow made her even prettier.

if you were being honest, you had a crush on Enid. scratch that - you had a huge crush on Enid. it was a bit pathetic, really. the two of you barely talked, and the few times you did, it left your face burning like crazy. she’s helped you with your in-class work, guiding you through each problem to help you pass.

you loved the way she dressed, how she expressed herself. she always wore darker clothing, and always wore this beanie on her head. but it was cute.

Enid always paid attention in class, because she never really spoke to anyone. she had her group of friends, but you only saw them together at lunch, which took place right after this class. that was also another good thing about math.

“okay, who knows the answer to question three?” the teacher called out, you jumped slightly at the loudness of his voice in the quiet classroom.

for a few seconds, nobody raised their hand. you kept your head down, making it seem like you were still working.

“ah, Enid! you know the answer?” you snapped your head up, Enid had her hand raised. she put it down, “six hundred and eighty seven?” she questioned unsurely.

god, she looked so cute. her maroon eyeshadow really made her green eyes pop, making it easy to get lost in them.

“yes! good, Enid! that’s the answer! everybody, make sure you write that down.” as everyone looked back down at their papers, your eyes were stuck in Enid.

she wrote down the answer, and started to move onto the next one. you sat there, your chin resting in the palm of your hand as you watched her with what could only be described as heart eyes.

she looked so cute when she was concentrated, biting her lip as she tried to figure out the answer.

“Y/N!” you jumped in your seat once more when the teacher yelled your name. your face burned as you looked up at him. “i asked you what the answer was to question four?” he asked, clearly annoyed with you for not paying attention.

“u-um,” you stuttered, looking down at your paper, when you looked back up, Enid was looking at you, a soft smile on her face. it made your face burn more.

she then held up 5 fingers underneath her desk. you quickly looked away, “the answer is five… sir.”

“correct! good job, Y/N. make sure to pay attention next time, yeah?” you nodded and put your head back down, mentally cursing at yourself for being caught doing that.

the bell suddenly rang and everyone stood up from their seats, shoving the paper into their folder and into their bag. “whatever you don’t finish is homework!” the teacher announced as everyone was leaving.

as you were putting your folder and notebook back into your bag, Enid appeared next to you. “hi.” she smiled.

“hi.” you smiled back, trying to act calm despite your racing heart. “having… trouble with the work?” she questioned, almost teasingly.

you looked down, trying to hide your growing smile. “uh, yeah. something like that.”

Enid thought for a moment, her eyes looking up at the ceiling briefly. “wanna uh, sit somewhere together at lunch? i could help you.”

it took you a moment to process what she said. your heart felt like it was going to explode. you were surprised she couldn’t hear how loud your heart was beating inside your chest.

“y-yeah. i’d love to.” you told her. her smile grew wider. “great, let’s go.”

you made your way to the cafeteria in silence, not knowing what to say to her. you hoped that maybe she felt equally as nervous.

the two of you got in line for food. Enid picked up two trays, handing one to you. you gave her a small smile as a thank you. thin crusted pizza sat in pans behind the glass, and you sighed in relief.

normally, you hated school food. but the pizza was somewhat good, and one of the most tolerable foods the school had to offer. didn’t go well with chocolate milk, though.

Enid led you to a two-chair table near the back of the cafeteria. when you sat down, you gave her a gave her a look of uncertainty, “are your uh, friends okay with you not sitting with them?”

she brushed it off with her hand, “they’re fine.” you nodded and took a bite of the pizza. “by the way, you didn’t have to give me the answer.” you chuckled.

Enid shrugged, “i don’t know, seemed like you were pretty distracted by something.” she said in a tone you couldn’t decipher.

you fumbled with the milk carton in your hand as you tried to think of what to say back. was it really that obvious you were staring at her?

“you know, if you like the way i look you can just tell me.” Enid said, confirming your thoughts from two seconds ago. you looked down at your food and tried to hide your embarrassment.

“sorry i-“ you laughed, genuinely at a loss for words. you took a deep breath, “i think you’re cool as hell, Enid.” you chuckled nervously. “you intrigue me.”

“yeah?” she questioned. “how?”

you shrugged, “i mean- your style, i love it. you’re… funny, and smart. but you’re quiet in class unless you have to answer a question. and something about it, i just really like.” you admitted, and you swore your heart was about to pound out of your chest any second.

Enid smiled, a tint of red highlighting her cheeks. “i think you’re pretty cool too.”

but she cleared her throat immediately, shaking her head slightly. “but uh, would you like some help with Mr. Rovia’s work? just so you don’t have to do it at home.”

you blinked, “yeah- yeah that would be nice.” you pulled your folder out of your bag and took the sheet of paper out. Enid pulled out her pen, immediately solving the next problem.

Enid then moved her chair closer to yours, and your shoulders were basically touching. you felt your heart start to race again.

she started to guide you through each problem, and if you were being honest, Enid was a better help than Mr. Rovia ever was. but that also went for most teachers anyway.

before you knew it, the two of you had finished the work. “thanks, Enid. genuinely.” you told her. “i’m always here to help.” she responded.

the bell rang again, signaling that lunch was over. you threw away the leftover food and placed the tray on top of the bin. your next class was science, another class you shared with Enid. but you also shared that class with your little shit of a brother, Carl.

when you entered the classroom, Enid pulled you by the sleeve over to an empty table with two seats. you looked over, and luckily, Carl was busy talking with his friend Henry.

Carl knew about your crush on Enid, and would take every opportunity he had to embarrass you if he saw you with her right now.

“hey, isn’t that your brother?” Enid questioned. you nodded, “yep. little asshole.”

Enid giggled, and that might’ve been one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

“alright class!” the teacher shouted. it was highly unnecessary, given that the classroom was small and everyone was already paying attention.

“i’ve assigned a project.” she announced, and few people groaned. “oh hush. this one is more entertaining than the others. for this project, you need to make a replica of a volcano and recreate an eruption. you’ll be working with one other student, the person you’re sitting next to.”

you and Enid turned to each other with wide smiles. you’re unable to control how happy you are on the inside, knowing that this could bring you guys closer, and maybe-

“take your computers out and start researching the different types of eruptions that can occur with your partner. this project is due Friday.”

Enid pulled hers out, “ready to completely ace this project… partner?” she asked with the cutest grin.

you couldn’t help but get lost in her eyes once more, not understanding how someone this beautiful was in front of you.

you bit your lip as you tried to hide your own lovesick smile, “yeah… let’s do it.”