#canvas lunch bags | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lia-linny · 6 months ago

Text

summary: yn is insecured about talking to much but her boyfriend hyunjin is there to comfort her

genre: hurt, comfort, fluff

words: 1k

note: i lost the request but who ever asked for this i hope you enjoy. ♡

It was a typical Friday evening. As always, Yn stumbled through the door of the small apartment she shared with her boyfriend Hyunjin just as he sat down in front of his canvas. Loaded down with bags, she tried to get rid of her shoes with moderate success.

"Yn-aaaaah how was work, love?"

"Good," she replied curtly, putting down one of her numerous shopping bags, which were filled to the brim. Hyunjin was taken aback. When yn came home on Fridays, she usually never stopped talking to him about her work. About how much fun she had with her new project at work, what she had for lunch or what her annoying colleague had done again. It wasn't like her to be that curt and dismissive, hyunjin realized with a frown. shrugging his shoulders, he began to draw. maybe she was just tired.

yn was completely caught up in her usual routine. everything was the same as always. But instead of looking forward to the weekend with her boyfriend and finding comfort in her upcoming weekly "painting-tea-talking ritual", she was plagued by countless self-doubts today. Was she not pretty enough? Was she really annoying hyunjin? Was she too loud?

Sighing, she walked through the kitchen and put the freshly bought groceries away in their designated places. When she had put the last can in one of the cupboards, she put on some tea water and opened the shelf with her thousands of cups. without thinking about it, she pulled out her comfort cup and filled it to the brim with hot water. looking at it, the cup wasn't particularly pretty. the design was peeling off nicely because of the frequent washing, and yet it was perfect in yn's eyes. it had been the first gift hyunjin had ever given her. when she met him, she was stuck in one of the darkest periods of her life. plagued by insecurities, stress and unhealthy relationships, hyunjin had smuggled himself into her life as a small glimmer of hope and when he wasn't there or she couldn't express her worries, she clung to the cup.

Ironically, the reason she needed to hold her cup today was her fear of losing hyunjin. Was she too exhausting? lost in thought, she picked out a tea bag and carefully let it disappear into the water in the cup. then, as usual, she sat down next to hyunjin, who by now had a rough sketch on his canvas and greeted her with a beaming smile.

the artist had been looking forward to her usual ritual all day. yn could only muster a half-hearted grin. as she slumped into her usual chair, hyunjin waited patiently to finally hear all about her day. he was dying to find out whether her colleague ayumi had so obviously made a move at her much too old and happily married boss again, or whether linh from the marketing department had spilled her coffee on her colleagues again and had brought these heavenly muffins as an apology for the chaos, which yn would quote "kill for". in both cases, this would be the third time in a month. but instead of the usual gossip, a depressed silence followed. hyunjin tried to ignore the silence by turning his attention back to the painting in front of him.

he began to paint a dark blue. he carefully let the brush glide over the canvas. as he always did. as he had done hundreds of times before and yet it was wrong. the line was wrong. it didn't show what his heart wanted to express. it was too big and too small, too wide and too thin. it lacked any warmth, just like hyunjin. the room was warmed by the rays of the setting sun and his sweater gave his body a pleasant temperature but it didn't reach his heart.

"yn-ah what's wrong? why don't you talk to me? you can't make me beg so brutally. give me all the tea!" hyunjin's mouth twisted into a pout and made yn smile slightly.

"I don't know, Jini... I talk too much anyway... I don't want to distract you from painting." to say hyunjin was confused would be an understatement. he furrowed his brow worriedly.

"jagia where did you get the idea that you talk too much? i love to hear you talk. especially when i'm painting! i want to know how your day was. every day! i want to hear everything you have to tell me my muse. i can't paint without you. the lines don't get right the painting can't really convey what i feel but when you're with me, when i hear your honey sweet voice it just becomes real love. i never want you to shut up understand?" hyunjin curled his shapely lips into a pout as if his girlfriend had personally attacked him with her previous statement.

"okay, okay jini!" yn laughed, but hyunjin didn't want to let the whole thing go so easily.

"jagi, what makes you think you talk too much?" hyunjin shifted so that his full attention was on his beloved. he looked at her anxiously as she nervously kneaded her hands and clutched her cup for support.

"well... i just thought... you know, hana, you know the one who regularly sleeps with the ceo... i was talking about our date where we went to see this beautiful van gogh exhibition and well... she said i always talk way too much and that i never let anyone get a word in edgewise. and... maybe she also said that... she's surprised that someone like you is still with me at all... and i mean she's not entirely wrong, is she? i always talk so much. when you paint i ramble non-stop. you don't get a word in edgewise and i'd understand if you were annoyed with me for that... or something"

"ohh love..." hyunjin sighed and wrapped his girlfriend in a warm hug, pulling her onto his lap, which she only commented on with a sad smile.

"have you forgotten that I always ramble the same way?" He lovingly nudged her nose, which made her giggle.

"i sometimes ramble on for hours about how great our new choreography is or how annoyed i am with one of the boys and as far as i can remember you always love to listen to me. so please don't stop. you shouldn't listen to hana this little..."

yn stopped her boyfriend from uttering a sinful insult to hana by placing her soft and tea-warmed lips on his. hyunjin sighed into the kiss and pulled her closer to him. Their lips moved as if they had never done anything else before. They danced a dance whose choreography only they knew. Hyunjin's hands were soon in her hair as he tried to take away her insecurities with his kiss alone.

panting, they broke away from each other but hyunjin didn't let her escape from his strong arms. slowly, he covered her now laughing face with kisses. smiling, hyunjin buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. "soo... are you going to tell me how your day was, my muse?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to her sensitive neck, which made her giggle.

"okay... do you know how annoying hikaru was today? he's been running around all day and..." hyunjin returned to his canvas even though one of his hands was now occupied holding yn's, who by now was sitting in her own chair again, sipping her tea as she talked.

by now, the sun had disappeared and was replaced by the soft shimmer of the moon. the cool evening air wafted through the open windows of their shared apartment and yet hyunjin was much warmer than he had been just a few minutes before. her voice dripped like liquid honey straight to his heart and the soft giggle that had just left her lips made hyunjin beam. he carefully applied the brush and... the line was perfect.

#kpop #south korea #boyfriend #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids oneshot #stray kids hyunjin #jyp stray kids #jypartists #jyp entertainment #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader

1K notes · View notes

loaksky · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I was wondering if you wrote or if you will write a part 2 to neighbour Ellie x reader, cause I would love to see how their relationship will progress and maybe there can be a bit of jealous Ellie and insecure reader, in like maybe they meet their exes or something like that

neighbor!ellie x sunshine!fem reader, hurt + comfort / fluff / smut MDNI!! or we’re beefing!! / established relationship, wc: 5.2k

synopsis: things between you and ellie seem to be going great! that is until you pay her a visit at work to drop off lunch and find that the threads that tie her and an overfriendly coworker tangle too much for your liking.

content warnings: language, slightly mean!ellie makes a return, reader isn’t necessarily insecure, but a little unsure of the circumstances, 18 + content / filthy make-up sex that consists of: brief shower-sex, scissoring, fingering / oral (reader & ellie!receiving), thigh-riding, so much kissing and mushy feelings.

author’s note: in love with this idea ! been mulling over how to expand on their relationship & i feel like this is a great segue ! hcs below; leave some more scenarios for existing couples (emt!abby, collegebff!ellie or others) and i’ll answer them ! (also not proofread well like usual lmao)

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

jealous!ellie & jealous!reader are SO different, but i feel like the outcome would be so…YUM.

feel like you’d be more reserved about being jealous.

like lately, it seems like things between you and ellie seem like they can’t get any better.

the two of you spend so much time together, whether it’s having picnics in the park with some pastries you make, testing out recipes after close at your cafe or having sleepovers at one or the other’s apartment.

ellie’s lowkey obsessed with you and at times it makes you blush because after the initial stages of feeling your relationship out, you find that ellie’s extremely vocal and outright with her affection for you.

and for the longest time, you don’t question it. don’t really say much because ellie’s particularly good at reassuring you even if you don’t ask.

it’s why you think you’re overreacting when you decide to surprise her and bring her lunch on a random afternoon in the middle of the week.

the top half of her coveralls hangs around her hips, dirtied white tank exposing tanned, inked flesh and lean muscle when you enter the lobby.

she’s leaning against one of the tool carts with her arms crossed over her chest, gaze unwavering.

when you trace her eyeline, you realize there’s another girl nearby bent under the hood of a shiny red car.

she says something imperceptible and suddenly ellie’s throwing her head back with a laugh, sound muffled by the sliding plexiglass.

“hey, receptionist is on break, can i help you with something?” a mechanic is poking his head into the lobby from an adjoining office.

“uh, i’m here for ellie?” the mechanic’s glancing through the glass into the main garage before standing from his rolling chair to dust his hands on his coveralls.

“yeah, she’s supposed to be watching the front,” he laughs. “too busy flirting with her lil girlfriend to pay attention.”

he doesn’t notice the way your face falls or how you almost drop the little canvas bag altogether.

you chance another glance at the two, find that the girl has emerged from under the hood and you swallow hard because god, she’s so fucking pretty.

doesn’t help that seeing her and ellie side-by-side makes you wonder if the two of you look that good together.

they look like they were made for each other and they even share similar interests! you don’t know a damned thing about cars and ellie’s gaze nearly glazes over every time you’re talking about your recipes and coffee pairings.

“uh, actually,” you stop him. “i don’t think she was expecting me, so i’ll just drop this off.”

he pauses.

“you sure? i can get her real quick, she’s not busy.”

ellie still hasn’t clocked you, so you shake your head.

“it’s fine,” you assure him. “i’ll talk to her later.”

he merely shrugs, meets you halfway for the canvas bag, and you’re quickly ducking out of the garage.

“babe?”

ellie’s right on the dot, you realize, when you hear her through the cracked sliding door to the balcony.

you’ve just finished watering your plants and now you’re jotting down a quick brainstorm for the upcoming spring launch.

through the window, you see ellie kicking her shoes off at the entrance before assessing her surroundings and poking her head into your bedroom for good measure.

“babe?” she calls out.

you stand, tucking the little notebook under your arm before sliding back inside.

she seems to light up when she sees you, crossing the living room to meet you halfway.

“hey, els.”

you’re letting her engulf you in a hug, arms wrapping around your waist as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“missed you today,” she hums, rocking your weight from side to side.

“missed you too,” you say gently.

ellie’s pulling away a short distance, finger bumping under your chin so you’ll look up at her.

“why didn’t you say hi when you stopped in today?” she nearly pouts. “zack came in when we were slow and said that someone dropped something off for me.”

you shrug, unable to tell her that insecurity was rearing its ugly head and you didn’t know how to deal with it in that moment.

“my girl didn’t wanna eat with me?”

“sorry,” you mumble, burning up under the heat of her gaze. “i couldn’t stay long.”

her brows are furrowing, hands coming up to smooth your hair from your face and brush over your shoulders.

“everything okay, babe?”

you nod once, then twice.

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?”

ellie’s watching you closely, fingers cupping your neck.

“talk to me,” she encourages softly. “did something happen?”

you swallow, shake your head, and put on your most convincing smile before leaning up to give her a peck on the lips.

“m’okay,” you tell her.

she doesn’t look convinced, but she also doesn’t wanna pry.

changes the subject instead.

“so does this mean, you’ll swing by and actually hang out with me soon?” she asks, body relaxing when you start smoothing over the wrinkles in her coveralls as a distraction.

you nod, smile widening when she starts peppering kisses all over your face.

for a little bit, you forget about ellie’s coworker and you forget about the comment that zack made, but then you’re popping in again almost two weeks later.

they’re shoulder to shoulder in the body shop, looking at something under the hood of a silver pick up truck. ellie’s engrossed, but the girl’s fullblown staring, paying no mind to whatever ellie’s explaining in the engine bed.

makes you sick to your stomach thinking that if ellie so much as chances a glance, their noses could brush.

“hey receptionist is— oh.”

it’s zack, the same mechanic from last time.

he’s wiping his hands on an old towel as he emerges from one of the bays.

“ellie!” he shouts past the propped open door.

she nearly jumps out of her skin, parting from her coworker as she throws a cross look over her shoulder.

“your girl’s here,” he announces.

ellie’s straightening up, craning her neck even more before her face splits into a bright smile.

she’s abandoning the girl by the truck, jogging across the body shop to duck into the lobby.

“hi, angel.”

your cheeks warm when she slides her arm around your waist to pull you into her.

“gonna go on lunch break, don’t wait up,” she calls & you’re sparing the girl near the truck a glance.

her name’s emma if the stitching on the right breast of her coveralls is anything to go by.

she makes a show of taking you in from head to toe before her gaze cuts to zack and they seemingly share a wordless exchange.

oh.

you have no clue what to make of that, but ellie’s steering you from the lobby and out into the crisp air.

it’s still a little chilly outside, but you’re wearing one of ellie’s favorite sweatshirts and she’s shrugging on a hoodie hanging from a coatrack by the door.

“my truck?” she offers when a chill rips down your spine.

you only hum.

when the two of you are settled, her in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s, she’s taking the little bag with lunch containers and setting it on her dash before pulling you towards her to eliminate every inch of space between the two of you.

“whaddya doing?” you sigh out a laugh.

“i missed you,” ellie says simply.

“ellie, you slept over last night,” you squeak out a breathy laugh when her ice cold hands slide under the warmth of the red fleece. “we saw each other this morning.”

“so?” she replies petulantly. “wanna be with you all the time.”

you’re wearing a turtleneck underneath the sweatshirt so she’s nosing along your jaw before pressing a few soft kisses there.

“you’re so clingy recently, els,” you giggle, arms winding around her neck.

“duh.” and your belly flips when she doesn’t even deny it. “you’re so fucking cute and i just wanna keep you in my pocket all the time.”

that earns her a full-hearted laugh and you really begin to wonder why you let that girl with her stupidly perfect blown out hair and stupidly rounded ass and the most stupidly pretty face ever make you question your ellie.

you live in bliss for the duration of her forty-five minute break where she does a whole lot of eating, but not necessarily the food you made for her.

the windows are equal parts fogged and frosted by the time she’s done with you and you’re shimmying your jeans back up in the back seat of her truck as she shrugging the top half of her discard coveralls and her hoodie back on again.

“you didn’t even touch to food i made you,” you whine.

“i’ll eat it on my ten,” she assures you, and your toes curl when she wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

“liked what i had for lunch better,” she says so casually, your cheeks are on fire.

“ellie!”

“definitely need dessert when i get home,” she insinuates, leaning her weight over your blissed out body.

she plants a kiss on your mouth before climbing back into the front seat.

but, in the lobby, when she’s bidding you a farewell with another peck on the lips, promising she’ll try to come home early, you notice emma’s eyes again. they’re searing, laced with obvious annoyance.

ellie’s returning to her duties and you’re ducking into their restroom for a moment to splash your face with cool water.

ellie’s never given you a reason to doubt her, has been a perfect girlfriend since the beginning, but you can’t help yourself.

especially not when you’re ducking out and you hear it.

“so i’m not the only one surprised that her girl looks like that?” you think it’s zack, but you can’t be so sure.

“i dunno, she’s hot, but they don’t really match,” another voice sounds. “especially since her last…thing was with emma.”

and, wow, fuck, you hadn’t been expecting that.

“damn, i forgot about that,” maybe zack says. “it was at the party mel and them threw, right? when they fucked?”

you’d wanted to give the benefit of the doubt. maybe they’d been a thing once upon a time, kissed on occasion, but hearing it put so crassly makes you feel like you’re gonna throw up.

the bell’s tinkling hard against the glass when you throw the door open.

and perhaps the situation with finding out about ellie and emma goes hand-in-hand with the way ellie experiences her jealousy.

maybe the fact that ellie still works closely with a previous situationship and is obviously on friendly terms with makes you withdraw a little.

you’re spending a lot more time at your cafe, readying for spring launch and brainstorming new recipes.

you don’t want to bore ellie, especially when you’ve been so in your head about everything lately, so you’re putting in more hours, coming home late at night.

truthfully, ellie’s devastated because she misses her girl :/ why are you always so busy suddenly?

so when a familiar face comes poking into the cafe a few weeks down the line, your eyes are as wide as saucers.

“wow, alex, is that you?”

she’s an ex who’d moved abroad for work a few years back. and the break up had been amicable enough, but she’d moved on and so had you.

the only contact the two of you keep is the occasional comment on social media and a text or two during the holidays.

she’s grinning ear-to-ear.

“what are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, setting the rag down on the bartop to round the counter.

you’d been in the middle of prepping to close up shop when the bells chimed against the glass.

“visiting my parents for a few weeks,” she answers. “thought i’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

“great, i’m doing great,” you assure her with a warm smile. “what about you? how’s germany?”

“definitely miss the food here sometimes, but you know,” she shrugs and you’re letting out a laugh. “and...julia’s pregnant.”

and your brows are shooting up, arms wrapping around her middle.

“alex, that’s so exciting!” you cheer. “congratulations.”

her cheeks are red when you pull away.

“yeah,” she says softly, eyes gentle. “i’m so excited.”

and you’re glad to hear that things are working out for her, that she’s established herself well and she’s building the family she’s always dreamed of.

“and you?” she asks.

“what about me?”

“are you seeing anyone?”

it’s your turn to warm, fidgeting under her expectant gaze.

“i am,” you confirm.

her smile widens

“that’s great,” she says genuinely. “i’m glad. i hope they make you happy.”

and it really makes you draw into yourself for a moment because ellie does. she makes you so fucking happy, you don’t know what to do with yourself sometimes.

“yeah,” you hum. “she’s great.”

the two of you end up catching up a little as you close, and she even takes you up on your offer of visiting again for a tasting before she leaves!

and this is most likely what sends ellie over the edge.

at first she didn’t know why you were suddenly so distant, knew you were dedicated, but didn’t know why you were so invested as of late.

recently, it’s been her popping into your apartment, but being disappointed to find that you’re not even home.

and the days that she does catch you, you’re pecking her on the lips and rushing out the door.

makes ellie question if there’s something she should be paying closer attention to.

honestly, she’s just really worried that she did something wrong, so as she’s trekking up the sidewalk to approach your little cafe with a bundle of cute flowers around 10 in the evening, she’s feeling a weird sense of deja vu.

finds that the open sign has been flipped and that the lights are dim, but nearly trips over her steps when she peers inside and sees you behind the counter.

you’re not alone, a tall figure leaned up against the bartop, obviously deeply interested in whatever you’re animatedly talking about.

you’re still wearing your apron, hair falling from its hold and a lump is lodging its way into ellie’s throat.

tugs gently on the handle to see that it’s locked and the motion catches both you and your company’s attention.

god, whoever you’re with is an absolute stunner and ellie’s swallowing hard as you round the counter and flit through the tables to come let her in.

“els, what are you doing here?” you ask, smiling softly.

barely registers what you’re saying because the girl you’re with has straightened and there’s something so put together and elegant about the brunette that makes a pang of insecurity begin to coil in ellie’s stomach.

“wanted to see you,” she says simply.

“oh,” you reply. “we were just finishing up here, i would’ve been home in like an hour.”

and that leaves such a sour taste in her mouth because a lot can happen in an hour, in forty-five minutes even.

“great, i’ll walk you home,” ellie says, tone pinched.

your brows furrow and you’re opening your mouth to ask ellie if everything’s fine, but alex is placing a casual hand on your shoulder to remind you she’s there and ellie can’t help but zero in on the way her slender fingers curl.

“alex,” she introduces, offering her other hand.

“ellie,” your girlfriend bites back, glancing at alex’s outstretched palm before glancing back up at her.

there’s a twinkle of knowing in alex’s eye as she nods thoughtfully.

“heard a lot about you,” she says simply.

ellie merely hums.

and god, you’re mortified because you’d spent the entire night raving about ellie even though alex was supposed to be giving you feedback on launch ideas.

you’d told her how kind and great ellie was. instead, here she is, ice cold and glaring.

“well...” alex turns her attention to you. “i really appreciate tonight, everything was phenomenal.”

you preen under the praise and ellie’s rolling her eyes, fist tightening around the stems of the flowers.

“of course, anytime,” you assure her. “thank you for visiting me again.”

and seeing the two of you side-by-side, ellie feels so small. because you’ve always been so pretty, so out of her league and the two of you look like a match made in heaven.

“always,” alex replies, and ever the instigator, she adds, “text me when you get home?”

“i will,” you tell her, brushing past ellie to lock her out. “goodnight, alex, be safe!”

she says something in return that evades ellie’s hearing, but she’s far too livid to even tune in.

you’ve barely locked the door behind her when ellie’s voice cuts through the tense air.

“who the fuck was that?” she asks sharply.

you turn on your heel, brows dipping because ellie’s rarely let her anger get the best of her.

“ellie, what are—”

“i asked you a question,” she says firmly.

you roll your lips, gaze downcast because such a good moment has been obliterated by ellie’s fiery temper.

“we dated a few years ago,” you answer honestly. “she was back in town for the next few weeks and i wanted to do something nice.”

ellie lets out a humorless laugh.

“so i’ve been worried sick for weeks because you wanna ghost me when you’ve really been parading around with your ex?” ellie huffs.

and okay, wow, you hadn’t really expected that from her because your ellie is usually relatively level-headed.

“this is only the second time i’ve seen her, ellie,” you argue. “we were friends way before we even dated and it was a clean break up. we were just catching up.”

ellie’s tossing the bouquet of flowers, now crushed by her unrelenting fist, onto the nearest table top.

“just catching up, huh?” she mocks. “so a romantic set up, just the two of you, is just catching up? you said not to wait up for you because you’d be caught up with work. good to know that screwing your ex is—”

“this is work,” you bite back. “i’ve been trying to get my bearings for this upcoming launch and she was kind enough to put up with all my crazy ideas and all my rambling,” then quietly, “given ninety percent of it was about you.”

“what, you couldn’t ask me?” ellie huffs. “you know i’d help you if you wanted me to!”

“i didn’t ask because i know all this shit bores you,” you say weakly. “alex was just being nice.”

that shuts ellie up, douses her anger like a bucket of ice cold water on a fire. and now she feels like a piece of shit because she hadn’t known that you felt that way.

“and she’s engaged,” you add, pulling away from her when she takes a step towards you. instead you busy yourself with gathering your spread and all the silverware. “they’re expecting a child.”

and fuck, ellie wishes she’d slowed down. wishes that she hadn’t talked out of her ass.

“i didn't—”

“you’re one to talk, ellie,” you add coldly. “you work in close proximity with a girl you used to fuck regularly. you’re still friends with her, and it’s obvious to every single soul imaginable that i’m just an obstacle to her and that she’s still interested. but i didn’t say anything even if it fucking ate away at me because i know you. you’ve never given me a reason to doubt us.”

that knocks that wind from ellie’s lungs because she hadn’t realized that you knew. just wanted to sweep it under the rug because her and emma were never serious and she didn’t want you worrying.

“wait, angel, i’m sorry,” ellie says. “i—”

you shake your head.

“whatever, ellie,” you whisper. “i have to close up.”

“c’mon, babe, don’t—”

“i don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” you cut her off. “i’ll be home soon, but i wanna be alone right now.”

when you get home and see ellie’s sneakers by the door, you take in a deep breath and try to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable conversation, but instead, you’re met with the smell of your favorite take out and a soft murmur from your vinyl player in the living room.

when you make it to the end of the corridor to peer into the kitchen, you see ellie taking down a few plates.

she’s glancing over her shoulder, body seemingly relaxing when she finds you standing in the archway of the kitchen.

“hey,” she greets softly, and you belatedly realize that her voice is hoarse.

“hi,” you reply.

“wanna eat first?” she asks you, but you don’t answer, too busy analyzing her.

you put two and two together; figure that she’s been crying if the red bags under her eyes and the dying flush on her cheeks is anything to go by.

she takes a step towards you and you seem to snap out of it.

“wanna shower first,” you tell her.

you hear her gulp.

“okay,” she says.

and you hate this. you hate being upset and you hate that she’s upset and knowing that ellie cried makes you wanna cry, so you’re taking a step towards her.

she’s glancing at you.

“shower with me?” you offer timidly.

ellie’s pushing off the counter, nodding eagerly.

and truthfully, ellie had every intention of keeping her hands to herself, but then you were asking her to help work the soap down your back.

then you were turning to face her to rinse under the stream of the showerhead. the sudsy water’s making its way down the column of your throat and the curves of your body and ellie’s tongue is so dry, she feels like it could crack in her mouth.

her hands settle on the narrow of your waist, right over the swell of your hips as she presses open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder.

“i’m so sorry, angel,” she whispers, hands sliding to rest against the small of your back.

you give in even though you’re still in your head, arms looping around her neck as she brushes your hair to one side and starts paying a lot more attention to the spot right behind your ear.

“s’okay, els,” you assure her softly. “i’m sorry, too. i was being a brat.”

your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, breath hitching when she grabs a palmful of your ass and breaks away from your neck to catch your lips between her own.

“you don’t know how much i love you,” she murmurs between kisses, sighing brokenly when the plush of your tits presses against her sensitive nipples.

you moan when one of her hands slides down your front and gently brushes over your clit.

“ellie,” you whimper.

“let me show you?”

your head is lolling back when the pads of her calloused fingers circle your entrance to gather the slick that’s accumulating there.

you nod.

“yeah, yeah, ellie, please,” you choke.

she’s reaching behind you to turn the shower off, ducking outside of the tiled space to grab your towel.

and she’s slow, meticulous as she dries you off, mouth watering when the cool air of the bathroom makes gooseflesh ripple over your smooth skin.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” ellie whispers, standing behind you in the mirror. “so fucking perfect and all mine.”

your eyelids are drooping shut as she discards the towel, hands wandering as her teeth sink into your neck.

“oh, fuuu—”

ellie’s jostling you back into your bedroom. when she’s about to push you back against the mattress, you’re spinning so that she’s falling against the unmade duvet, taking you with her.

and ellie’s gaze is glazing over when you spread her legs to reveal a pussy slick with need and a clit so swollen, it makes you salivate.

“what are you doing?” she whispers, fingertips denting the fat of your thighs.

“wanna ride you, els,” you whimper, climbing to straddle her heat. “wanna take care of you.”

one of her legs stretches to settle over your shoulder and you’re kissing her calf as your clits bump.

“fuck,” ellie chokes when you start rolling your hips. “fuck, wait, angel, just—”

the slip is delicious, obscene sound of your combined arousal echoing through the room to mingle with ellie’s throaty moans.

ellie’s used to watching you ride her strap, used to fucking you and giving you everything because it’s one of the things that makes her the happiest, but, fuck, she could get used to this.

“you gonna cream all over my pussy, ellie?” you whine, pace relentless as you ride her.

she lets out a breathy laugh.

“you feel how wet i am?” ellie gasps, thumb coming to nestle between your heat. the friction feels so fucking good against your clit, has you throwing your head back as you fuck her. “god, you’re fucking delusional if you think i’m not a hundred and ten percent obsessed with you.”

“oh fuck, ellie, your pussy feels s’good,” you whine, eyes watering when her other hand settles on your hip to guide you.

“does it, angel?” she moans breathily. “only you can get me like this.”

“you’re so wet, els,” you marvel. “your cunt’s so soft and so...so—”

“it’s all yours,” she whispers shakily, hips jerking because she’s close. “all yours, angel.”

and she’s crying out when you slip off of her, hands grabbing for you desperately.

she’s throwing her head back against your pillows when your lips latch onto her clit.

“oh, shit,” she moans. “wait, wait.”

but you don’t wait, in fact, your ministrations quicken, tongue lapping at the slick that gushes from ellie’s cunt.

“fuck, angel, i’m gonna—”

the broken moan that leaves ellie’s lithe body has you clenching your thighs. and you think she’s gonna cum, but her palm is firm against your forehead to push you away gently.

her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head when a string of spit webs from your chin to her clit.

“m’not cumming before you do,” she swallows. “this was supposed to be about you.”

“it is,” you assure her. “all i care about right now is making you cum.”

“jesus, you’re actually something else,” ellie sighs shakily, combing a tattooed hand through her damp locks.

you’re making a move to close in on her pussy again, but she’s pushing you onto your back, settling her achey cunt over your thigh as she circles both of your wrists in one hand.

“let me take care of you and you can do whatever you want with me for the rest of the night,” ellie promises, sloppy kiss turning into her licking into your mouth.

her fingers waste no time finding your folds, pads eager against your bud before dipping lower to tease at your entrance.

“how could you think i’d want any other pussy other than yours, angel?” she whispers against your mouth as she stuffs you knuckles deep. “this is all mine, you hear me? all fuckin’ mine.”

you nod, squirming against where she’s still got you confined with a bruising grip around your wrists.

“s’all yours, els,” you whimper.

“just like this pussy’s all yours,” she husks, hips rolling over the swell of your thigh. “would never fucking dream of giving myself to anyone but you.”

and god, ellie knows all the right things to say to have you winding tight.

you’re arching into her, jaw slack and eyes crossing as she hits that spot inside you that has you feeling fucking boneless.

“c’mon, angel,” she encourages you. “just once all over my fingers, then you can do whatever you want to me.”

the squelch has ellie’s thighs shaking as she rolls her hips, knuckles curling hard inside the warm heat of your needy pussy.

“don’t stop, els,” you beg her. “i’m gonna—”

she’s freeing your wrists, climbing from your thigh to settle on her knees at the end of the bed.

“wait, els, i’m gonna—”

and the moan that leaves you can be heard by the entire apartment block, no doubt, because ellie’s sucking your clit past her lips and eating you out like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do.

the shit she’s murmuring against your folds is filthy, has you trying to squeeze your knees together because ellie’s that good.

“ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” you cry out when she adds a third finger.

it’s all it takes because a few moments later, your back’s arching all the way off the bed, thighs vibrating as she continues to toy with you through your orgasm.

“that’s it, angel,” ellie whispers. “ride it out.”

your chest heaves through the final waves, a sheen of sweat making your dewy skin look like it’s glistening under the lowlight of your bedside lamp.

“you did so fuckin’ good for me,” ellie says gently, standing naked between your parted legs as your arm drapes over your eyes in embarrassment.

“stop hiding,” she scolds, climbing to straddle you.

her hands are wandering, smoothing over every available expanse of skin as you cover your face and shy away from her.

she’s shocked when she pries your arm away and finds tears welling in your eyes.

“babe,” she calls incredulously. “why are you—”

“we wouldn’t have been in this situation if i wasn’t so immature and just talked to you about it,” you hiccup.

ellie’s face is falling, pulling you up to wrap you in her arms.

“babe, stop,” she whines softly, rocking you as a shudder rips down your spine. “i should’ve said something and i definitely shouldn’t have acted the way i did earlier. if anything i was immature.”

“you’re such a good girlfriend, ellie,” you whimper. “and i’m...i’m sorry, i—”

“hey, hey,” she stops you firmly, peeling away from you to thumb at your chin. “don’t do that.”

and you feel like such a big fucking baby as ellie repositions the two of you so that she’s leaning against your headboard and she’s pulling you against her sweaty chest.

“i’m sorry, ellie,” you choke again.

“stop apologizing,” ellie croaks, and you realize that the emotions are welling inside of her as well. “none of this was your fault, angel. i should’ve been honest and just told you, but i was scared.”

you’re still hiccuping, ear pressed over her heart.

“you’re my first real girlfriend in a really long time, and it doesn’t help that you’re so grossly out of my league, and—”

“ellie,” you chide.

“i don’t wanna mess things up with you,” she admits softly. “especially after the way we started.”

“i’d never hold that against you,” you swallow.

“and that’s what makes it worse. i know you wouldn’t even if you should,” ellie whispers. “and then today, i saw you with someone else and it made me so fucking mad because the two of you look so good together. it made me feel like i don’t deserve you.”

“els.” and you’re crying harder now, arms winding so tight around her waist, she feels like she’ll burst.

“i’m sorry,” ellie says gently. “you’ve always been so fucking good to me and—”

you’re leaning up, kissing her to shut her up before she starts crying and she’s cradling your face like you’re the most fragile thing.

“i love you so fucking much, ellie,” you tell her between kisses. “let’s just...let’s just put this behind us, okay?”

she nods, pulls from your lips to nestle her face in your neck.

“i love you more, angel,” she murmurs against your skin. “you don’t even know.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #the last of us

2K notes · View notes

imreidswifey · 2 months ago

Text

Paint-Stained Promises -Fluff-

Spencer Reid x Artist!Reader

Credit to @drowning-rabbit their head-cannons was the only thing that made this possible!Please go follow and like their posts!

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid never expected to find love amidst the chaos of profiling criminals and chasing shadows. But when he meets you, a free-spirited painter with a penchant for covering yourself—and your apartment—in splashes of color, his life begins to shift in ways he never imagined. From quiet evenings spent as your muse to secret notes tucked into his lunch bag, Spencer discovers a kind of intimacy and joy that feels as brilliant and messy as your art.

Warnings:

Fluff Overload: This story is heavy on romance, intimate moments, and playful teasing.

Mild Embarrassment: Expect Spencer to be adorably awkward and flustered in social situations.

Team Banter: Includes friendly teasing, nosy colleagues, and found-family dynamics.

Themes of Vulnerability: Emotional intimacy and personal growth are central to the story.

Mentions of Profiler Work: While the story focuses on romance, it references Spencer’s work with the BAU, which involves criminal profiling (no graphic details).

Reader Discretion: Ideal for fans of soft, romantic fanfiction and anyone who loves a good balance of humor, love, and heartwarming moments.

———————————————————————————-

The late afternoon sun slants through the blinds, casting soft, golden streaks across the room. You’re perched cross-legged on the floor in front of your easel, a brush tucked behind your ear and smudges of cerulean and ochre streaking your hands and cheeks. The smell of turpentine and acrylic paint mingles with the faint scent of lavender from the candle flickering on the windowsill.

Every piece of furniture within paint-splash radius has been meticulously wrapped in cling film. Your living room looks like a scene from a crime drama—a precautionary measure after the last time you accidentally turned the couch into a canvas.

The familiar jingle of keys in the lock pulls your attention.

“Spencer!” you call out, not looking away from your painting. “Be careful where you step! It’s chaos in here!”

“I noticed,” he says, stepping inside. His voice, soft and amused, makes your chest flutter.

You glance over your shoulder to find him standing in the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. His sweater vest is slightly askew, and his hair, as always, has that artful messiness to it that makes your fingers itch to sketch him.

He sets his bag down, tilting his head as he takes in the scene. “I assume the cling film is for… protection?”

“Exactly,” you reply, gesturing with your brush. “I’m not cleaning paint off the sofa again. And before you ask—yes, I learned my lesson last time.”

His laughter, soft and genuine, fills the space between you. He crosses the room, carefully stepping over paint tubes and discarded sketches, and leans down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Missed you,” he murmurs.

You smile, the warmth of his presence already sinking into your skin. “Missed you too. But hold that thought—I need you to sit still for me.”

Spencer raises a brow. “Sit still?”

“Yep. I’m drawing you,” you announce, dragging a chair into the light. “Here. Sit. Read. Don’t move too much.”

He hesitates for only a second before complying, pulling a book from his bag and settling into the chair. He’s used to this by now—the spontaneous bursts of inspiration that seize you at the oddest times.

You watch him as he opens the book, his long fingers flipping through the pages with practiced ease. He adjusts his glasses, and the golden light catches on the frames, making him look like something out of a Renaissance portrait.

“You’re staring,” he says, not looking up.

“You’re pretty,” you reply without missing a beat, grinning when you catch the faint blush creeping up his neck.

Your brush moves almost of its own accord, capturing the curve of his jaw, the way the light dances in his hair. You’ve drawn him a hundred times before—in little doodles on post-it notes, in margins of notebooks, on scraps of paper that find their way into his pockets and desk drawers. But there’s something about this moment, the quiet intimacy of it, that feels different.

Every now and then, Spencer’s brow furrows or his lips twitch as he reacts to whatever he’s reading.

“Stop that,” you tease, smacking his arm lightly with the handle of your brush.

“Stop what?”

“Reacting. You’re ruining the pose.”

He looks up, feigning innocence. “You want me to be an unfeeling statue?”

“Yes. Just for a little while.”

He shakes his head, but the smile on his face betrays him. “You know I can’t help it. This chapter is fascinating.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “Fine. But keep the dramatics to a minimum.”

You lose track of time, the rhythm of your brushstrokes and the sound of Spencer turning pages creating a kind of harmony. Occasionally, you catch him sneaking glances at you over the top of his book, his expression soft and adoring.

“Done,” you announce finally, stepping back to admire your work.

Spencer closes his book, setting it aside as he stands to join you. He leans over your shoulder, studying the painting.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, his voice tinged with awe. “You make me look better than I do in real life.”

“Liar,” you reply, nudging him with your elbow. “You’re perfect, and you know it.”

He laughs, pulling you into his arms. His sweater smells faintly of coffee and the library, and you sink into him, paint-stained hands be damned.

The next morning, you’re up early, packing his lunch like you always do. It’s a quiet ritual, one that’s become second nature. You slip a note into the bag—a quick sketch of a coffee cup with the words Stay caffeinated and brilliant scrawled beneath it.

When Spencer leaves for work, he’s none the wiser about the speck of glitter clinging to his sleeve or the faint smudge of yellow paint on his collar.

At the BAU, Derek Morgan squints at Spencer as he sits at his desk, pulling out a sleek new pen to sign some paperwork.

“Pretty boy,” Morgan says, leaning against the desk. “Where’d you get that pen? Looks fancy.”

Spencer freezes mid-signature, his ears immediately turning red. “It’s, uh… It’s just a pen,” he says quickly. “Not that fancy. Just—uh—a gift. From someone.”

“Someone, huh?” Morgan’s grin spreads slowly, his interest clearly piqued.

Spencer clears his throat, focusing intently on the paper in front of him. “It’s a practical pen. The ink quality is exceptional, and the dry time is virtually instantaneous. Which is important for someone who writes as much as I do. The weight and balance are also—”

“Spence.” Morgan cuts him off, laughing. “I’m not asking for a dissertation. Just tell me—who’s the someone?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Spencer stammers, the papers in his hands suddenly fascinating.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “Is there a ‘someone’ in your life we should know about? Fancy pens, glitter on your clothes… you’ve been walking in here like you’ve got a whole secret world going on.”

Before Spencer can respond, Emily Prentiss spins her chair around, joining the conversation with a smirk. “Wait, wait, wait. Did you say glitter?”

“It’s subtle,” Morgan says, crossing his arms. “But it’s there. And now I want answers.”

Spencer looks like he’s considering fleeing, his wide eyes darting between them. “It’s… not important. Really. Can we get back to work?”

“Not important?” JJ chimes in from her desk, her expression far too curious. “Spence, you’re blushing. It’s definitely important.”

Rossi walks by at that exact moment, sipping his coffee. “Sounds like our resident genius is in love,” he says casually, earning a chorus of laughter from the team.

Spencer groans, burying his face in his hands. “Can we please not do this right now?”

Morgan claps a hand on his shoulder, grinning. “Come on, pretty boy. Who is she? Or he? Or they? Give us something.”

For a moment, Spencer hesitates. Then, with a resigned sigh, he mumbles, “Her name is… Y/N.”

The room falls silent for a beat before bursting into a flurry of exclamations.

“Y/N?” JJ asks, her smile soft. “You’ve been holding out on us, Spence!”

“Okay, but the glitter makes so much sense now,” Emily says, leaning back in her chair.

“Do they pack your lunch too?” Morgan teases. “Because you’ve been looking suspiciously well-fed lately.”

“Enough,” Spencer mutters, though the corners of his mouth betray him with a faint smile. “Yes, I’m… dating someone. Her name is Y/N. She’s an artist. And that’s all you’re getting.”

Morgan snorts. “Oh, we’re getting way more than that. This is just the beginning.”

Spencer shakes his head, but his blush deepens. As much as he protests, there’s an undeniable glow to him that the team can’t help but notice.

And while they tease him mercilessly, it’s clear that they’re thrilled for him—because Spencer Reid, their brilliant, awkward, kind-hearted genius, deserves all the love in the world.

And every night, when Spencer comes home to find you covered in paint with that familiar smile on your face, he’s reminded of just how lucky he is.

That night, Spencer steps through the door, his usual quietness replaced with an air of nervous excitement. His bag is slung over one shoulder, and there’s an extra gleam in his hazel eyes as he finds you standing at the kitchen counter, a bowl of pancake batter in your hands.

“Hey, genius,” you greet, not looking up as you stir. “How was work?”

“Uh…” He hesitates, and the sound of his bag hitting the floor grabs your attention.

You glance up, catching the telltale flush creeping up his neck. “What happened?”

“They… um…” He rubs the back of his neck, his voice softening. “They know.”

Your heart skips a beat, the spoon slipping from your fingers. “They know?”

“About us.”

You freeze for a moment, staring at him, before breaking into laughter. “What gave it away? The glitter, the notes, or the fact that you’ve been using pens too nice for a government salary?”

He cracks a sheepish smile, stepping closer. “Morgan asked about the pen, and I… may have overexplained.”

You laugh even harder, clutching the counter for support. “Oh, Spencer. Of course you did.”

His hands find your waist, steadying you as you catch your breath. “It’s not funny,” he mutters, though his lips are twitching with the hint of a smile.

“It’s hilarious,” you counter, looping your arms around his neck. “What did they say?”

“They were… amused,” he admits, his gaze dropping. “Morgan gave me a hard time, and JJ said it was sweet. Rossi just smirked like he already knew, and Emily—well, she asked if you’re the reason I’ve been smelling like lavender lately.”

You snort, shaking your head. “So, basically, they love it.”

His arms tighten around you, his forehead resting against yours. “They think I’m lucky,” he says softly. “And they’re right.”

Your breath hitches, the sincerity in his voice sending a wave of warmth through you.

“You are lucky,” you tease, brushing a paint-stained thumb against his cheek. “But so am I.

Later that evening, after dinner and a shared bottle of wine, you find yourselves on the couch, your legs draped across his lap. A sketchpad rests on the coffee table, abandoned in favor of the moment.

Spencer is reading again, his brow furrowing every now and then as he flips through the pages. You’re half-watching him, half-daydreaming, your heart full to bursting.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop teasing you?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

He doesn’t look up, but a small smile plays on his lips. “Probably not. But I don’t mind. They’re happy for me—for us.”

The words hang in the air, soft and certain, and you feel a lump rise in your throat.

“Come here,” you murmur, tugging gently on his arm.

He sets the book aside and shifts closer, letting you curl into his side. His hand comes up to cradle your head, his fingers threading through your hair.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out as naturally as a breath.

He freezes for a moment, his hand stilling against your hair. Then he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

It’s the first time he’s said it, and the weight of it settles over you like a warm blanket. You can see it in his eyes, the quiet reverence with which he holds those words—holds you.

You lean up to kiss him, your lips brushing against his in a way that feels like a promise. When you pull back, he’s smiling, his cheeks flushed and his eyes alight with something that looks a lot like forever.

Over the next few weeks, life settles into a new kind of normal. The team’s teasing becomes a regular occurrence, but Spencer takes it in stride, his quick wit and encyclopedic knowledge often leaving Morgan speechless.

You keep sending him off to work with lovingly packed lunches and scribbled notes, and he keeps coming home with faint traces of glitter on his clothes and stories that make your heart ache with pride and love.

One evening, as you’re sorting through your art supplies, you find a small stack of post-it notes tucked into one of your sketchbooks. They’re all doodles of Spencer—some detailed, others hastily drawn in moments of inspiration.

You gather them up and slip them into his desk drawer, smiling to yourself as you imagine him finding them later.

And when he does—when he texts you a picture of one with the caption You’re amazing—you know you’ll never get tired of loving him.

Because with Spencer, even the quiet, everyday moments feel extraordinary. And together, you’ve created something messy, colorful, and perfect—a masterpiece all your own.

158 notes · View notes

coolindianjutebags-blog · 5 months ago

Text

Cloth bag manufacturer in hyderabad with customisation and print. for more deetails contact us on 9666829906 or search in google as "indian jute bags, Hyderabad"

0 notes

hollowed-theory-hall · 1 month ago

Note

I don't remember if Harry is a Morning person or not, I feel like he is pretty grumpy

Well, I ended up writing about Harry's sleep habits in general since it was interesting to me, so you're getting a little more than you bargained for here.

Harry is often mentioned waking up early. He is probably used to it from the Dursleys and whenever he's excited or anxious even more so:

Harry woke at five o’clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn’t want to walk into the station in his wizard’s robes — he’d change on the train.

(PS, Ch6)

Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy.

(CoS, Ch10)

Harry woke early next morning, wrapped in a sleeping bag on the drawing room floor. A chink of sky was visible between the heavy curtains: It was the cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn, and everything was quiet except for Ron and Hermione’s slow, deep breathing. Harry glanced over at the dark shapes they made on the floor beside him.

(DH, Ch10)

When he's nervous or anxious he also struggles to fall asleep to begin with, and doesn't sleep a lot at all:

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn’t sleep. He tried to empty his mind — he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours — but the expression on Snape’s face when Harry had seen his leg wasn’t easy to forget.

(PS, Ch11)

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they’d ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the House Cup. Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How could they ever make up for this? Harry didn’t sleep all night.

(PS, Ch15)

“Harry, you — you look terrible.” Harry hadn’t gotten to sleep until daybreak.

(PoA, Ch11)

He thought of the letter he had written to Sirius before leaving Privet Drive. Would Sirius have gotten it yet? When would he reply? Harry lay looking up at the canvas, but no flying fantasies came to him now to ease him to sleep, and it was a long time after Charlie’s snores filled the tent that Harry finally dozed off.

(GoF, Ch9)

Feeling disappointed, Harry threw the book back into his trunk, turned off the lamp, and rolled over, thinking of werewolves and Snape, Stan Shunpike and the Half-Blood Prince, and finally falling into an uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of bitten children. ...

(HBP, Ch16)

Harry did not sleep well that night. He lay awake for what felt like hours, wondering how Malfoy was using the Room of Requirement and what he, Harry, would see when he went in there the following day

(HBP, Ch21)

And he seems to get up and get ready immediately when he gets up, he doesn't dwindle in bed and struggles to wake up:

Harry woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. He got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where he’d have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned.

(PoA, Ch4)

Even when he is startled awake by something happening:

Harry woke as suddenly as though he’d been hit in the face. Disoriented in the total darkness, he fumbled with his hangings — he could hear movements around him, and Seamus Finnigan’s voice from the other side of the room: “What’s going on?”

(PoA, Ch13)

Early next morning, Harry woke with a plan fully formed in his mind, as though his sleeping brain had been working on it all night. He got up, dressed in the pale dawn light, left the dormitory without waking Ron, and went back down to the deserted common room.

(GoF, Ch15)

And he doesn't really sleep in late (unless he didn't sleep at all the night before, which happens a few times). At least not that I could find. The only time he seems to be sleepy and wants to stay in bed lazily I could find is when he is given a dreamless sleep potion:

Harry took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. He felt himself becoming drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a friendly way through the screen around his bed; his body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of the feather matress. Before he could finish the potion, before he could say another word, his exhaustion had carried him off to sleep. Harry woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that he didn’t open his eyes, wanting to drop off again. The room was still dimly lit; he was sure it was still nighttime and had a feeling that he couldn’t have been asleep very long.

(GoF, Ch36)

It also seems that once he's awake (even if very early) Harry struggles falling back asleep:

Harry fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It was half past four. Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was very difficult, now that he was awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours he would be out on the Quidditch field, battling through that gale. Finally, he gave up any thought of more sleep, got up, dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out of the dormitory.

(PoA, Ch9)

And all of this makes sense. Trauma and PTSD can affect sleep very negatively. Since OotP, Harry has many uneasy, nightmare-filled nights:

Harry had a troubled night’s sleep.

(OotP, Ch10)

In the meantime, he had nothing to look forward to but another restless, disturbed night, because even when he escaped nightmares about Cedric he had unsettling dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead ends and locked doors, which he supposed had something to do with the trapped feeling he had when he was awake.

(OotP, Ch1)

After two nights of little sleep, Harry’s senses seemed more alert than usual.

(DH, Ch19)

Actually, the nightmares and restless nights are there prior to OotP too, this kid is so traumatized:

Harry wished he could forget what he’d seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn’t. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

(PS, Ch13)

As I mentioned, Harry doesn't sleep well when he's anxious, stressed, or excited, and for this kid, it's basically always. So, I think Harry tends to wake up on the earlier side of things and is capable of functioning decently (if angrier) on little to no sleep.

Since I was looking for info on Harry's sleep, apparently, depending on the position he falls asleep in, he snores, loudly:

Harry Potter was snoring loudly. He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold windowpane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open.

(HBP, Ch3)

(As a general note, Ron and Neville snore too)

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #asks #musiclovingwriter #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #harry james potter

140 notes · View notes

gremlin-girly · 10 days ago

Text

Grass

Part of the Green collection

Curtis Everett x f!Roommate! Reader

Banner by me, made in Canva w/ Curtis' pic sourced on Pinterest. Dividers by @/kodaswrld and MDNI/Reblog Banners by @/saradika-graphics

WARNING: This fic not only contains smut but also consumption/use of marujuana. If that's not your bread and butter (or if you are a minor) please do not read.

Additional tags/warnings: roommates to lovers (back with this again ik), blowback, use of a bong, inexperienced reader (with the bong lmao), making out, p-in-v (wrap it), creampie, inebriated fucking/fucking while high, sex while standing, standing carry, fucking in the kitchen, mutual masterbation, post-sex cuddles, petnames (sweetheart, bunny)

Not beta'd and I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Summary: Your roomie convinces you to take a hit, leading to some fun in the kitchen.

Word count: ~3k (on mobile sorry)

A/N: sorry it took so long! I had ideas for two other fics while doing this one but there's going to (hopefully) be a double whammy of the Green Collection this weekend 👀

Green Collection | Curtis Everett Masterlist | Navigation

Coming home from a long day at work was nothing short of bliss, especially knowing your roommate was home. Curtis was a perfect roommate, an all-round great guy too, which was why you enjoyed spending time with him when you could.

Curtis worked odd hours, which meant that on your days off he could either be sleeping or at work, however, you both had a system that benefitted you both; he cleaned, you cooked and prepped lunches, both of you would take turns to do laundry. This meant that you didn't have to worry about anything pile up of dishes and Curtis didn't have to eat noodles five days a week and take out on weekends.

The times that your days off synched up, you'd usually do something together. Be it shopping, or a movie, it didn't matter. The only thing you could possibly think of that would make Curtis a bad roommate was the fact he smoked grass on his days off.

He was kind enough to light a candle or to smoke in his room if you were home, and despite the smoky smell, you didn't mind. He had a high-stress job so it was nice to see him relax at least once a week. You couldn't blame him for wanting to take the edge off.

On your way home this particular day, one of your best friends called you up, asking for you to join them for cocktails at a bar across town.

"Can't," you say, fishing in your bag for your keys. "Curtis is off and we've already agreed to watch a movie."

You can hear the groan on the other end of the line.

"You mean your boyfriend?" Your best friend sneers.

"He's not my-" You begin defensively before backing down. "We made plans last week. I can't just ditch him."

"If he's not your boyfriend, you can."

You want to snap at her that you can't; you made a commitment to Curtis first... but part of you knows she's got a point. Even it is a miniscule point. Curtis was a great roomie. Reliable. Fun to be around.... hot.

You shake your head as you pull your keys out. "I can't."

"Alright," she chuckles. "Have fun with your hot roommate. And tell me if anything juicy finally happens."

You frown at your phone as the line goes dead, cheeks warming as you open the door to the apartment. Curtis is leaning against the kitchen counter, grinder in hand, bong already set up beside him.

"Hey," He greets with a short nod.

"Hey." You reply, feeling your chest tighten. He's in his cosy clothes but, sweet mother almighty, he looks delectable. Baggy, dark wash wash jeans that hang low on his hips, tight white t-shirt with a light oversized grey patterned hoodie with a deep v-neck over it and, of course, his signature black beanie. You wished he didn't look so hot; it would give your best friend less ammunition saying he was the reason for your lack of a boyfriend.

"Leftovers were good." Curtis says watching you unload your bag and place your dirty tupperware in the sink. "Thanks."

You can hear the grinding of metal on metal as Curtis twists his grinder.

"It's no problem." You grin, turning on the sink tap and unloading an ungodly amount of dish soap into the bowl. "You need to stop thanking me for it though, Curt. I've been doing it for months."

"Yeah, I know." He grins back at you and you have to steady yourself against the sink so your legs don't give out. "But I want you to know I'm always grateful for it."

Stomach full of butterflies you turn back to the sink, dipping your hands into the hot suds and wishing whatever God was listening to throw you a boon. The flick of a lighter and the bubbling of the bong snap you from your explicit thoughts and you're lucky enough to catch Curtis blowing smoke rings before the smoke disperses.

Fuck me.

You don't know if it's a curse or a wish at this point. Curtis catches your gaze and offers you the bong, large hand over the mouth of it trapping white smoke in the chamber. You shake your head and hold up a soapy hand.

"No thanks."

"Just one drag. Try it." He wiggles the bong at you with a sweet, begging expression. "Please?"

Pursing your lips you consider your options. You'd never done it before, so the opportunity to try it in a safe environment with a 'professional' was a good start. On the other hand, you didn't know how weed would affect you. Would you be a drooling mess? Would you not remember a thing? Would you, as your best friend had described, be so fried out of you mind you would just lie on the sofa and have a minor existential crisis?

You can't lie and say you hadn't been tempted before now but Curtis made it look so easy. The thought of embarrassing yourself in front of him nagged at your brain but the want of the experience under your belt won out. You'd be safe with Curtis. Existential crisis and drooling be dammed.

"Fuck it. Fine." You sigh, taking the bong from him and holding it awkwardly; scared to drop it and unsure how to hold it correctly.

"Hold the top and the base." Curtis instructs with a smirk, watching you frown worriedly as you changed your grip. There's something phallic in the entire procedure that makes your cheeks heat and you feel entirely stupid for thinking it.

"Put your lips on it." Curtis' voice sounds low and breathy, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to steel your thoughts.

You move to do as he instructed but you're obscured by a stray piece of hair that won't move out of your way no matter how much you shake your head. Curtis chuckles and you can feel warm fingers brush along your forehead, removing the stubborn piece of hair, and tucking it behind your ear. His eyes meet yours as you peek up through your lashes, bottom lip pouting against the lip of the bong. The kitchen suddenly feels a lot hotter and you don't know if Curtis can feel it too.

"Try again." He says quietly, trailing his fingers through your hair as he pulls his hand away. You hadn't even noticed his fingers lingering against your skin but now that they were gone, you wanted them back.

Placing your lips into the mouth of the bong, holding it tight, you meet Curtis' eyes expectantly. Curtis' lighter flickers to life as he burns the ground weed on the other side and after a few seconds, instructs you to suck in as much air as you can.

You try, you really do, watching the smoke twist in the chamber and burn your lungs as you take the deepest breath you've possibly ever taken.

But it still ends with you coughing and sputtering.

"You need to take it into your lungs." He says, patting your back softly. "You don't have to do it quickly. Just like taking deep breaths."

You nod your head as he flicks his lighter again, waiting for your signal (another nod) to light it again.

"Now, inhale."

You breathe in and the bong bubbles angrily, putrid smoke invades your lungs and makes your mouth drier than a desert. Your lips break away from the bong and you cough hard, your lungs screaming at you as you try to breathe. You try to suck in as much air as possible, feeling lightheaded as you continue in your coughing fit, letting Curtis remove the bong from your grasp. Once your breathing is finally steady, Curtis is already blowing another smoke ring smirking over at you.

"You did alright for your first time." He chuckles.

"Show off." You whisper hoarsely, giving him a watery eyed glare.

Curtis clicks his tongue dismissively and lifts your chin gently with one hand, thumbing tears from your cheeks. His thumb lingers a moment, brushing the softness of your skin before he moves his hand away to light the bong for another hit.

"You'll get better with time." He says nonchalantly, sucking in smoke. You're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Maybe there was a God offering you a boon.

"I don't wanna do that again," you grumble, your voice still raspy. Curtis exhales slowly, no smoke ring this time but he looks over at you curiously, as if contemplating asking you something.

"What?"

"I could always give you secondhand smoke?" Curtis suggests, inhaling the smoke again. When he breathes out, he pushes the smoke towards you, but you srunch your face at the smell. Curtis laughs at your cute expression.

"You've got to suck in the smoke."

"But it smells gross." You whine. "Is there another way we could try?"

"Actually..." Curtis' eyebrows raise as an idea forms and he beckons you closer. You shuffle forward, an inch or so between you.

Curtis lights up the bong again, and holds the smoke but before releasing it, he takes your chin in his hands delicately and kisses you. You gasp in surprise and Curtis takes the opportunity to blow the smoke into your mouth; you cough and sputter less this time but your lips tingle from the kiss. Curtis watches you closely, waiting for your reaction.

Your mind draws a blank; fuzziness setting in and you don't know if it's him or the contact high but your smiling up at him regardless.

"Could we keep doing that?"

Curtis breaks into a radiant grin. "Yeah. Of course."

The kisses start gentle and tender; sweet pecks that make your body feel tingly and light. It works well; after every kiss you inhale the smoke he blows into your mouth, slowly getting used to the feeling of his lips against yours and having him so close.

Then one kiss lingers for longer than a moment.

You're both a little breathless, only millimetres apart when you break for air, and it takes one millisecond more for your eyes to meet before the floodgates open. Curtis' lips crash into yours, and you welcome them, his arms wrapping around you in a crushing embrace. Your hands rip his beanie from his head and toss it somewhere on the floor, raking your hands through the short, soft buzzcut. Curtis rumbles a chuckle but doesn't stop kissing you.

There's a harsh clink as Curtis sets down his bong and his hands begin to freely wander up and down your sides. Mimicking his actions, you allow your hands to feel along his chest and collarbone. It's harder than you expect; thinking there'd be a slight softness under all his jumpers, not that you care either way. Your hands slip under the layers of his jumper; mapping out every defined muscle your fingers trailed moments before. Muscles twitch under your touch and Curtis sucks in a sharp breath, hands squeezing at your hips.

"This okay?" You ask quietly, gently running your palms downwards against his hot skin, stopping above his belt. Your gaze flickers to his, waiting for confirmation to continue. Which it does - in the form of a low groan as he cranes his neck to kiss you quickly.

"It's more than okay."

Your head's already starting to feel heavy but you can't tell if it's because your being kissed senseless or if the smoke has finally hit you. A large hand knots in your hair, the other making quick work of unbuttoning your jeans, a thick finger dipping under the fabric of your panties to rub tight circles against your clit. You gasp in surprise, your own hands fumbling with his belt as you try to concentrate, but that's all that Curtis needs to push his tongue further into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Curtis' tongue is hot and tastes like the smoke that made you gag not five minutes ago but you don't care; taking a hit of him is better than any bong.

"Already wet for me, huh?" He murmurs against your lips, index finger swirling your clit with your own slick. A moan hitches in your throat making him chuckle, peppering more kisses along your cheek. You can feel your pussy squeeze around nothing, a familiar sensation building between your legs.

His kisses are sloppy but no less passionate. Curtis chases your mouth with his at every pathetic whimper you make in an attempt to keep yourself quiet. You, on the other hand, are a breathless mess as you manage to undo his belt and jeans. Palming over his cock teasingly gets you a firm press against your clit that makes your thighs squeeze around his fingers.

"Don't tease, bunny." Curtis murmurs, nipping along your jawline, making you shiver. "That's not fair."

"Eager?" You tease softly but Curtis pulls back slightly, looking down at you. His pressure and swirling against your clit pause and you grind your hips slowly for some relief.

"Maybe. Is... Is that a problem?"

"You know damn well it's not." You huff impatiently.

Curtis' nostrils flare and he curses, tugging his hand from your jeans and removing his jumper and white tee in one movement, discarding them to the floor before moving to shove his jeans down. You quickly follow suit, adding your shirt to the pile as you wiggle out of your jeans. You don't have time to react when Curtis' mouth finds yours again, more feverent and desperate than before. His fingers tug your panties down your legs and you shyly step out of them, allowing his fingers to slip between your folds and caress your now-aching clit.

You inhale sharply when his thumb grazes your clit, two thick fingers teasing and your cunt's entrance. Curtis' other hand grips the back of your neck, holding you steady when your legs start to tremble and you mewl his name so breathlessly.

Your hands tug his boxers freeing his cock; eager to touch him - finally - and eager to please him. One hand pumps in rhythm to his stroking fingers, the other gently cupping at his heavy balls while your own thighs clench like a vice around Curtis' fingers; struggling to stay standing at the attention he's giving your clit.

"Look at me," He says firmly, voice strained, blue eyes locking with yours. "Look at me when you cum."

"Fuck fuck fuck." Each curse becomes higher in pitch before you let out an airy sigh as your first orgasm ripples through your body. Your eyelids are heavy but you keep your eyes fixed on Curtis' face, a smirk of satisfaction on his swollen lips. His thumb swipes your clit slowly as your body comes back from the orgasm-high. You feel extra elated. Your body feels like every nerve is alert but your muscles are entirely relaxed.

There's a kiss to your forehead that leaves tingling ripples across your skin. Then another to your cheek. Then to your neck...

Your skin prickles to gooseflesh, breath hitching again, dragging your thumb over the tip of Curtis' cock to coat it in his own precum. Curtis' moan is so close to your ear and it's lewd. You'd never have guessed he'd be loud during sex. Curling your head into his neck, you nip along the prominent vein, illiciting more and more filthy noises from Curtis until he slips two fingers into your dripping pussy.

"Oh shit," you whine as your walls clench around his fingers. The stretch isn't painful by any means, but the fullness as his fingers move and curl is euphoric. But any further moans are smothered by his mouth on yours, his fingers spreading you open easily to explore your pussy.

"Curtis," You pant when you're finally granted a gasp for air, trying to focus on pumping his cock and holding off your orgasm. "Bedroom?"

"No." Curtis growls. "'M too impatient. Here will do."

Before you can ask him what he means, he squats down and wraps his muscular arms under your knees. He peeks up at you, placing a gentle kiss to your stomach that makes you shiver and your heart thud violently.

"Hold on to me, sweetheart."

That's the only warning you get before your feet leave the ground. With a yelp, you fling your arms around his neck, holding on until Curtis is back at full height and supporting you in his arms like it's no big deal. You can feel another rush of arousal as you watch the veins in his arms twitch under the strain and the brush of his leaking cock against the backs of your thighs.

Your knees are bent, legs dangling over Curtis' thick arms helplessly, with his large hands groping your ass as he repositions you over his cock. You've never been fucked like this before and you know damn well that gravity is about to work wonders with skewering you onto Curtis' cock and let out a shaky sigh of contentment.

"You ready bunny?" Curtis asks, the fat head of his cock pushing against your dripping cunt ever so slightly. "Because once I start fucking you, I'm not stopping."

"Yes," you nod, biting at your lips to contain a whorish moan. "Fuck, Curtis, please."

Curtis lowers you onto his cock slowly, watching your lips part is ecstacy as his cock slides into your cunt with welcomed ease. Your moans of need are sweet and sultry as he splits you open in the middle of your shared kitchen, toes curling as gravity helps his twitching cock nestle deep inside you.

Once buried to the hilt, Curtis sighs in delight, your walls fluttering around his cock like he'd always imagined. His large hands grope at the flesh of your ass, kneading the muscles as he flashes you a panted grin. You shift in his grip with a shy smile and squeeze his hips with your legs.

"You feel like heaven, bunny." Curtis murmurs, canting his hips upwards into you. Your ass bounces against his thighs, your arms straining as you try to hold onto his neck. Your maneuvered quickly in his grip, your body moving upwards so you can pretzel your arms behind his neck, fingernails clawing at his shoulders, his cock never leaving the warmth of your cunt. Once anchored to him properly, Curtis begins to cant his hips frantically, fucking you into oblivion while you whimper and moan as you cling to him.

"Look at me, sweetheart." Curtis pants and through your fucked-out haze you manage it. There's the satisfied smirk again, his eyes red-rimmed and blown wide but sparkling nonetheless. Your lips are wet and swollen from the kissing, from biting back moans, and Curtis loves to see it. To be the cause of it.

Wet slaps echo against the kitchen walls and your starting to lose control, moaning his name louder, your pussy constricting tighter and tighter, splashing your delicious cum over his legs, balls and cock.

"You look so good getting pounded like this." He muses, watching you hiccup another moan. His eyes trail to your tits, watching them bounce in time to thrusts, loving how you milk his cock so eagerly. He wished you'd smoked sooner or at least wished he'd made a move sooner, had he known that you'd be just as eager for him as he was for you. His eyes flit back to your face. Every part of your face is contorted in pleasure; eyes red, glazed and half-lidded, lips slightly parted and your eyebrows that in-between of surprise-frown as you try to withhold coming again.

"C-Curtis - I - I'm-" you breathing is heavy, you can't even form a thought as he bounces you on his cock and it makes Curtis' balls tighten.

"So am I bunny." He grunts out quickly, fucking your tight pussy harder. More slapping sounds coupled with your half-scream of pleasure echo through the apartment. "You just hold tight okay? Don't think of anything else but this cock."

You hum and nod - barely - you're already too lost to pleasure to even care. Curtis curses when your nails dig into his shoulders. He can feel your cunt convulse desperately as your orgasm begins to rip through you and you shout his name almost in a panic.

"I got you," He coos, his thrusts slowing only slightly as he tries in vain to postpone his release for a few moments longer. Soaking his cock again sends him over the edge and he cums hard when you softly whisper his name repeatedly as you go limp in his grip. His cum is warm and sticky as it slowly drips from your pussy but you're too busy drowning in post-orgasmic bliss to care.

Your head rests against Curtis' shoulder as you catch your breath, the kitchen now quiet apart from your breathing. Your legs wobble when Curtis sets you down gently, wrapping those strong arms around your waist once more, fending off the chill of the kitchen for a few moments longer and placing tender kisses to your neck and shoulders. The silence is comfortable and you push away thoughts that could potentially ruin your night; what did this mean for you both? Was it a one time thing? Did you want it to be a one time thing?

"You were..." Curtis begins but trails as his head buries itself into your neck. "Fuck, that was amazing."

"Speak for yourself." You breathe out, arms still wrapped around his neck as you lean into him, desperate to stay as close as possible before reality kicked in.

You liked Curtis. You knew Curtis. And clearly, your little crush wasn't one-sided otherwise you wouldn't be standing in the kitchen naked right now. However, from the depths of your mind, slow worries began to rear their ugly heads; telling you a relationship with Curtis could still blow up in your face, especially since you already lived together. That seemed like speed-running the dating process just a tad.

Curtis' snort startles you from your thoughts and you glare up at him.

"You're thinking too loud, bunny." He smirks and then, as if it were second nature, lifts his head to capture your lips in a quick peck.

You'd only just regained your breath and it had been stolen all over again. You lean into him more, letting the kiss linger like the one that had kick-start this whole thing. His lips are warm now, not searing like they had been, and you're drawn into him, chasing his lips as he retreats his head.

"Sleep in my bed tonight." He murmurs, giving you a squeeze. His eyes twinkle in the light and the faint smirk he still wears makes your pussy throb all over again. "I'd like to wake up next to you at least once before we decide on what to do next."

"If my legs work." You joke half heartedly, your heart fluttering wildly against your ribs. You're not happy at the squeak that escapes you as Curtis lifts you easily again, half over his shoulder as he pads to his room before throwing you onto the bed. You bounce along the mattress with a laugh, wrapping yourself around Curtis when he crawls over you to pepper kisses over your face again. His eyes are still glassy, but there's a sweet look that sends shivers of desire throughout your body.

"I was doing all the heavy lifting," Curtis teases into the crease of your neck. "My legs are all achy."

"Aw, want me to kiss 'em better?" You tease back, squealing when he rolls you on top of him, gasping when you feel his cock twitch between your thighs.

"Nope. I want to watch you do all the work this time, bunny." Curtis grins up at you with a squeeze of your hips.

Despite your brain swirling lazily with questions, your high brain was far more interested in round two.

At least you'd have some very juicy updates for your best friend tomorrow after all.

End

Taglist

Tag yourself here

@stargazingfangirl18 | @bridgetina | @irishhappiness | @looking1016 | @awkwardgiraffe726

#gremlin girly #gremlin girly writes #curtis everett fanfic #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett snowpiercer #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #curtis everett smut #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x female reader #chris evans characters x reader

61 notes · View notes

myerssimp21 · 1 year ago

Text

Knife's Canvas (Pt. 1)

Yandere Poly!Ghostface x Reader

warnings: mention of torture (not reader), planned stalking.

prompt inspired by @jadedstarlight03 's prompt to @creepyyanderegirl on yandere stu with artistic reader. I liked it and took my own spin with it since I simp for Billy too.

"I admired your sketch!"

The cursive note, adorned with a smiley face, stared back at you, earning an A+ grade on your inaugural in-class creative writing assignment at Woodsboro High. As a newcomer, you had hoped your depictions of characters like Garfield and Scooby Doo would endear you to the teachers, and it appeared they did. Sketched in red pen and colored with pastel pink highlighter, your drawings grinned up at you, surrounded by tiny glitter hearts.

"Oh, those are wicked!"

The cute blonde girl seated behind you leaned over your shoulder, her minty breath fanning into your face as she praised, "Do you draw a lot? Did you do those in class? It's pretty fast if you did."

"Yeah! I started doing art last year, but you get better and faster with practice," you replied with a warm smile, eager to make your first friend. "I think these took about 3-4 minutes each."

Your face warmed as she leaned closer, her chest lightly pressing against your back as she inspected your paper. She pointed to the little hearts, "Those are so cute!" Her approving face turned toward you as she introduced herself, "I'm Tatum."

"I'm ____," you replied, pleased to make introductions effortlessly. The teacher's allowance for 5 minutes of free time before class's end was a welcome opportunity for socializing.

"You should join my friends and me after our next class for lunch; maybe some of us will be in your classes!"

"That would be so nice," you said, relief evident in your voice. "I'm honestly pretty shy, so making friends can be intimidating."

Her dazzling smile accompanied her words, "Perfect! If you have Chemistry next with Mr. Scott, I'll show you where it is if you don't already know."

"Um," you leaned down to your backpack, sifting through your new student documents to find your schedule. "Oh, it's actually history with Ms. Johnson."

"Hmm," Tatum leaned back, crossing her legs as she thought. "I think Billy has that class. Maybe if you leave a little early, you can catch him. He's the guy with the, uh," she seemed to struggle for words, "grunge hairstyle? I think he's wearing a dark red t-shirt today if that helps. He's a little grumpy sometimes, though, so if you're too nervous or he's mean, we'll look for you at lunch."

The bell rang, and students not already congregating by the door got up to leave. You neatly tucked your graded paper into its designated folder and stood, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as Tatum rose in tandem.

"I'll try!" you said with a giggle, even though meeting Billy made you nervous. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too," Tatum said, pulling a pack of gum from her bag and offering you a piece before you left. "I think your next class should be in that building, right? I’m not sure if you had it yesterday or if it’s a Tuesday-Thursday class."

Thanking her again, you made sure your Discman had the CD you liked the most before connecting your headphones and heading off in that direction. You'd only have a few minutes of music, but it was worth it!

After finding your next class, you lingered around the door since you were early, hoping to at least place who Billy was from Tatum's description. After a moment of trying to not look awkward as you stood around, you spotted him.

He did have a grungier hair style, reminding you of a movie star you'd seen on TV recently. It threatened to fall in his eyes as he stalked towards the door, a bored look on his face. Now that you noticed him more, it was hard to ignore that he had a pretty face. Trying to not overthink it now that you realized you thought he was kind of cute, you pulled your headphones down from your ears until they hung around your neck as he came closer to the class.

When he noticed you looking at him as he drew closer, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, the scowl on his face deepening and making you feel even more nervous.

"Hi," you said somewhat sheepishly, "I'm ___. I'm new and met Tatum in my last class. You must be Billy."

His eyebrow raises and his eyes soften, but the scowl remains, “Oh?”

“Yeah…” you trail off a little, unsure of what to say since his response was sort of dry, “I’m from the more southern part of the state and we moved up here for my dad’s new job. I hear you guys experience the seasons up here so I’m excited to see them! The leaves never change in the fall where I’m from.”

His dark brown eyes have been boring into yours as you speak, making your face feel warm for the second time today. They dart down to the folder in your hands and he smirks as he says, “That’s cool.”

For your history folder, you’d tried to paint torsos and busts like the ancient historic statues from Greece and Rome you’d seen in a National Geographic magazine on the cover. They were naked torsos, but you had tried to make the nipples on the women look less prominent to avoid getting into trouble. If you had any sense, you’d have depicted something else to entirely avoid the possibility of getting into trouble, but you’d gotten irritated at the idea of censoring art.

“Oh, thank you! I hope I don’t get shit for the nudity, but I guess I could probably give them all clothes if I need to.”

He nods towards the classroom and you notice the hallways are getting quieter, “We should head in. There’s a couple empty seats near me.”

Ms. Johnson's strategy to get the kids interested in history was to start with the brutality of the medieval age, it seemed; with diagrams of the torture methods they created being the highlight of her second class after syllabus day.

The history class, guided by Ms. Johnson's unwavering enthusiasm, delved into the unsettling corners of medieval history. As the lesson progressed, she took a moment to present an image of a haunting artifact, projecting it onto the screen for the entire class to see.

"Now, can anyone tell me what this is?" Ms. Johnson asked, gesturing to the screen. It was a grotesque device, an iron contraption with a cold, heartless design. Sharp spikes protruded inward, forming a cage around the wearer's head. The unsettling silence lingered as the class peered at the image, growing discomfort palpable.

To everyone's surprise, ____ confidently raised her hand, her eyes betraying an unexpected depth of knowledge.

"It's called the Scold's Bridle," she answered, her voice steady. "An oppressive device designed to silence women who dared to speak their minds. The spikes prevented any speaking, ensuring their voices remained stifled."

Billy arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "How do you know about that?"

____ shrugged, a nonchalant smile playing on her lips. "I read a lot. History isn't just about dates and battles; it's about the struggles people faced, especially women, and respecting the challenges they went through."

Billy's skepticism softened as he nodded slightly. "Guess history is more twisted than we think."

____ leaned towards him slightly, a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes and made his spine tingle slightly, "Oh, you have no idea."

"Ah, ____," Ms. Johnson said with genuine admiration and ____'s attention snapped back to her, "Impressive knowledge there. I'm eager to see your thoughts on this in more detail, perhaps in an essay. It's always refreshing when students connect with the material on a deeper level."

"Now, let's delve further into the complexities of medieval society. How these devices were not only instruments of physical torment but also symbolic of the societal norms of the time."

The lesson continued, and ____ slowly flipped through her sketchbook to find a fresh page, seemingly reviewing her previous art briefly as she did so. Billy faced the board, but his eyes were turned downward, toward ____'s hands. He caught a glimpse of previous drawings – a mix of cartoon characters and a few creepier depictions.

Angry faces splattered with red marks resembling blood and figures wearing intimidating masks (or just freaks with the scariest faces ever) caught his eye. Intrigued, he discreetly watched as she began absentmindedly sketching the torture devices described in class as she listened, switching out her pens to smear red ink on them. He caught his scoff before he uttered it when he realized she was drawing the devices in glitter pens, her eyes flickering from the images on the screen to back down at her paper.

He must have been too obvious, leaning in too closely or being too pointed with his staring now because she had flipped to a fresh page and locked eyes, an unreadable expression across her face. There was a pause before she tucked her sketchbook into her bag and turned her attention back towards the board.

Billy felt a mischievous idea forming in his head as he let his eyes linger on her, knowing she could probably see him staring in her peripheral. If she wasn't thrilled about him seeing her portfolio, perhaps there was more hiding in that sketchbook than just cutesy cartoons. It could be amusing for him and Stu to explore her place once they found out where she lived, hunting for more art she wasn't ready to showcase while they scoped out their new potential victim. If the glimpses of what he saw when she had flipped through it implied there was anything more beneath her vanilla exterior, Billy was confident that he and Stu could uncover it.

As the bell rang, she turned to him with what he'd call friendly eyes, the strange demeanor now gone, "Are you hungry or what? Is the cafeteria food at Woodsboro High edible or would I be better off hunting a bird?"

He huffed, "You'd be better off starving." Nodding towards the door, he started towards it, hardly waiting for ____ to collect her bag, "Maybe Randy will be enough of a simp to offer you whatever his mommy made for him."

Noticing the disdain Billy seemed to have for Randy's mother but feeling too tentative about the potential for conflict to ask more about it, ____ decided to leave it alone and hurry after him into the now bustling hallway.

587 notes · View notes