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evolucious · 2 months

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Midnight Brew : Zayne x Reader

For a moment, you both stood frozen, caught in each other’s eyes. A surge of panic gripped you, and you wondered if he would find your silent observation intrusive.

But then, almost inperceptibly, he smiled.

pairing : zayne x reader (no gender specific terms are used to describe the reader)

prompt : our apartments are opposite each other and your kitchen window faces my kitchen window, so we always see each other making coffee at 3am. (aka, you and zayne sneak glances at each other before you decide to do something about it)

genre : sfw, fluff, slice of life, zayne please get some sleep

word count : 1,050

a/n : heyo, i've dusted off my tumblr skills to dive headfirst into another hyperfixation. this is just a one shot i couldn't get out of my brain so i slapped my keyboard and here we are. I'll probaby post more but feel free to dm or request any prompts/pairing!

It was another sleepless night, and the quiet hum of the city was the only sound breaking the stillness. With slow deliberate movements, you wrap yourself in your robe, the soft fabric offering protection against the predawn chill. You found yourself once again in the kitchen, guided more by muscle memory than conscious thought. The soft glow of the streetlights filtered through the window, casting a gentle light over your counter as you began the familiar ritual of making coffee.

As the coffee brewed, you leaned against the counter and looked out the window. The city never truly slept, but it had moments of stillness, especially at 3 am. You had always found solace in these quiet hours, the world outside muted and calm. The soft hum of distant traffic, the occasional bark of a dog, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind created a soothing backdrop to your nightly ritual.

The building opposite yours had always been a source of idle curiosity. You often glanced at the darkened windows, imagining the lives inside. One window was illuminated, the soft light spilling out and creating a beacon in the night. There, just as he had been for the past few nights, stood your neighbor, a man with dark, tousled hair and a pensive expression, moving with a quiet grace as he prepared his own cup of coffee. You watched him for a moment, intrigued by the way he seemed so absorbed in his thoughts. There was something almost mesmerizing about the scene, and you found yourself drawn to it night after night. It had become a silent companionship, a shared moment of solitude.

The first time you had noticed him, it had been purely accidental. A restless night had driven you to the kitchen for yet another cup of coffee, and as you gazed out the window, your eyes had landed on the man in the opposite building. He had been so engrossed in his own routine that he hadn’t noticed you, and you had quickly looked away, feeling a bit like an intruder. But over the next few nights, your curiosity got the better of you, and you began to look for him.

You found yourself wondering about his life. Why was he awake at such an ungodly hour? Did he suffer from insomnia like you, or was there something else that kept him up? Maybe he worked odd hours, or perhaps he was an artist or a writer, finding inspiration in the silence of the night. Your imagination ran wild with possibilities, each one more intriguing than the last. He became a character in your own personal narrative, a small comfort in the vast loneliness of the night.

Each night, as your late-night coffee ritual continued, you would glance out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man across the way. He was always there, his presence a comforting constant in the silent hours. You began to notice little details about him—the way he ran his hand through his hair when he was deep in thought, the soft smile that played on his lips as he read something amusing.

One night, as you prepared your coffee, you felt the familiar pull to look out the window. To your surprise, the man was already there, his gaze meeting yours. For a moment, you both stood frozen, caught in each other’s eyes. A surge of panic gripped you, and you wondered if he would find your silent observation intrusive.

But then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.

It was a small smile, but it warmed you more than the coffee in your hands. You returned the gesture, feeling a strange connection form between you in that silent exchange. From that night on, the smiles became a regular part of your routine, a wordless greeting that made the lonely hours feel less empty.

Despite the comfort these nightly interactions brought, your mind was constantly buzzing with thoughts and questions. Who was this man? What was his story? And most importantly, why did it matter so much to you? You found yourself thinking about him during the day, wondering if he thought about you too. It was strange to feel such a strong connection to someone you had never spoken to, yet the bond felt real and significant.

But tonight, as you prepared your coffee, you decided to take a chance. You rummaged through a drawer until you found a piece of paper and a marker. Your heart pounded in your chest as you scribbled a quick message:

"Couldn't sleep either? - Y/N"

Taking a deep breath, you held the note up to the window, praying that the streetlights would provide enough illumination for him to read it. For a moment, there was no response, and you felt a pang of doubt. Had you been too forward? But then, he stepped closer, squinting to read your message. A slow smile spread across his face, and he nodded before disappearing from view. When he returned, he held up his own note:

"Work keeps me up. Wanna share a cup? - Zayne"

Your heart skipped a beat. Zayne. Finally, you had a name to go with the face. You quickly wrote back:

"Meet downstairs?"

Zayne raised his mug with a nod and a smile, and you felt a flutter of excitement as you grabbed your mug and slipped on some shoes. You made your way down to the entrance of your building, your mind racing with possibilities. When you stepped outside, he was already there, leaning casually against the wall with his mug in hand. The cool night air washed over you, carrying with it a sense of anticipation and hope. He looked up as you approached, his smile warm and inviting.

"Hi," you said, feeling a bit shy now that you were face-to-face.

"Hi," he replied, his voice as smooth and soothing as you had imagined. "I suppose our midnight coffee rituals have finally converged."

You laughed softly, feeling the tension melt away. "It seems so. I hope you don't mind me intruding on your solitude."

"Not at all," he assured you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "In fact, I was hoping we'd have a chance to talk. It's not every day you find someone who shares your unusual habits."

{pls dont repost i beg}

#love and deepspace #lads zayne #lads #lads imagine #lads fluff #lads fanfic #love and deep space #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace fluff #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x mc #l&ds zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #doctor zayne #dr zayne #evoluciousfics

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sharksnshakes · 3 months

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Night Out - Tim Drake

image source: batboyblog on tumblr

When out at a dive bar with your friends, you step outside for a breath of fresh air and run into the Red Robin. For some reason, he seems... familiar?

AN; writers block is brutal and disgusting and horrible. also. i am suffering from batfamily brainrot so expect more of this (part two can be found here!)

Wordcount; 787

TW; some cursing, mentions of drinking

It's a damp spring night when you meet the Red Robin. You're out with your friends at some college dive bar on the East Side. The area's a far cry from Gotham U's campus, but with free entry and cheap drinks, it's worth the elevated risk of mugging.

"Besides," one of your friends had declared on the way to the bar, "It just means we're more likely to see Nightwing's hot ass."

You're pretty sure the dark-haired vigilante operates exclusively in Bludhaven these days, but you're not a party pooper.

The music was good, the crowd was fun, but a small room of drunk co-eds had a way of heating up quicker than Firefly's flamethrower, and so you'd retreated out the side door for a breath of fresh air. You weren't stupid; you'd taken your small can of mace with you. This was Gotham, after all.

The alleyway was blissfully empty, save for a dumpster--quite the relief, seeing as the last time you'd been here, you'd stumbled upon a couple deep in the throes of a heated make out session. Taking a breath, you leaned up against the cool bricks in the alleyway and let yourself decompress.

"There's definitely better places to hang out around here than dark alleys," a voice says from somewhere behind you.

Living in the city has taught you many things. Most importantly, how to turn off potential predators by acting downright crazier than they do.

You spin on your heel and hold the mace like it's a pistol, coming face-to-face with none other than--

"Holy shit, you're Robin," you gasp, eyes widening.

Thank god you didn't actually mace him.

"That I am," he says, warily eyeing the can in your hand.

"Like... the Red Robin," you continue. You're blinking at him, openly gaping, and it occurs to you that you should probably stop pointing the can at his eyes. You stow the makeshift weapon in your back pocket. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were a mugger or something!"

"Hey, it's fine," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it's any consolation, you definitely would've scared the shit out of a mugger."

You laugh, but it's mostly in disbelief. Red Robin is standing mere feet away from you, domino mask and yellow cloak and green pants and all, and you're suddenly very thankful you'd gotten dressed up to go out tonight. For a split second, you swear you see him give you a quick once over. But no, there's no way Robin's checking you out.

He glances around the alleyway for a moment, almost awkwardly, before speaking again. "...Any reason you're out here?"

"I'm out with my friends," you say, motioning to the building behind you, where the bar's logo is printed in peeling white vinyl. "Needed some air. Somehow, smoke and asthma don't make a good combination," you joke.

"Can't imagine why," he grins, and holy shit Red Robin thinks you're funny.

"You got any fun, exciting plans tonight?"

He hesitates.

"Wait, you don't have to answer. I know, top secret Batman stuff--"

"Nah, not that secret." It's dark in the alleyway so maybe you're not seeing things right, but you swear you can see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Just patrolling. Y'know. Keeping an eye out for muggers and mace-wielding asthmatics."

You laugh. "Sounds boring."

"Definitely could use a drink." He glances at the side door with an unreadable expression.

"Rough start to the night?"

"You could say that."

A brief silence stretches between the two of you. Traffic and the faint pounding of the bar's music fill the space, and for some reason, despite never having met Robin and likely never meeting him again, it feels... almost familiar.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one stuck at work tonight. One of my best friends, Tim, had to bail last minute since he's got an exam to study for. So, like, you're not suffering alone!" you add, thinking back to the guy you've kind of been maybe having romantic feelings for lately.

Robin chokes.

"Shit, you okay? Need me to, like, slap you on the back or something?"

"Nope," he says, voice raspy.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." He gives you an awkward thumbs-up.

"I should probably let you get back to work, then," you sigh, turning back to the side door and grasping the handle. "And I should get back in there. Don't need my friends worried about me."

When you turn back around, it's just you and the dumpster.

"Fuckin' impressive," you mutter to nobody but yourself. "See ya, Robin."

You step back inside. The door closes behind you and... fuck.

You forgot to ask for a picture.

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #dcu #dcu x reader #red robin x reader #the way he's underrated is crazy to me #i love my insomniac son #tw drinking #tw cursing #batfam #batfam x reader #not my best work #but here we are

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bbonnenuit · 10 months

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The Smiths.

notes: chrollo is yandere, although the fic is lighthearted. the biggest warning is the fact that chrollo looks like he'd listen to the smiths /j, another bigger warning is that reader is an avid the smiths hater. im not tho, all for fun. female reader.

“Daydreaming again, I see?”

It would be a lie to say that Chrollo’s voice isn’t at the slightest bit pleasant to hear. It’s soft and smooth, but accompanied with a confident low timbre that you think might be the source of it’s charm.

You often wish you both don’t share a language to speak over, so whatever he speaks would be foreign yet pleasant gibberish in your ears. And maybe you’d be able to close your eyes and sleep. You’d be able to treat him as the background noise of some radio host talking about something as mundane as today’s newest dramas.

You don’t find the need to chase the impossible ideal this time. One doesn’t need to be a linguist expert in order to know no malice or warning is present in his voice, though one might need a bachelor’s degree and over four decades of experience in psychology to know he truly means nothing behind his calm demeanor.

You sign yourself to a fate you’re unsure of, and though it’s foolish, there’s nothing you can do anyway. You’re stuck with him, in a moving four-wheeled compartment, that’s also stuck in traffic.

“The music’s good.” Is all you say, and he hums in understanding.

Silence falls over the two of you again.

You almost brought back the colorful reverie you were in before he decided to interject, until he reached for his phone to change the music. Oh, bluetooth, the convenient technology you are. His phone is located on the right of his steering wheel, far away from your reach. If he had reached for the audio system you would’ve been (maybe) able to slap his hand away.

“Hm, I’d rather you pay attention to me.” The lilt in his voice is unmistakable. And you almost gag, was that an attempt in flirting? Blegh.

“I’ll just stare at the cars,” Headlights and astigmatism can make a good duo, you remind yourself.

Chrollo hums again, You can almost laugh, so being stuck in your own daydreams and practically doing nothing is unacceptable, but staring at cars is alright?

You stare at a car, observing the way the light that emits from it’s headlights become blurry in your sights, they almost take shape of stars in your opinion.

So you set your sights on a particularly small black car in front of you, must be a Toyota or Avanza or something. You can’t tell, it’s got four wheels and headlights, so it’s a car. You could care less about what it is. That is why you weren’t all so interested when Chrollo took you a look into his….Rolls… Rolls what? Oh, right, Rolls Royce. It’s a fancy one, you can tell. He was exuding quite an air of importance when he was leading you towards the high-end vehicle located in the restaurant’s parking lot, there were some on-lookers around that spot that expressed interest at the car. It means something when even people of the middle-upper class are showing interest.

Whatever ego that had probably swelled within Chrollo must’ve popped like a balloon, or so you hope, because you did nothing more than give him a thumbs up before letting yourself in the passenger’s seat. You also didn’t miss the way he was preparing to tell you about the car’s compartments and specialties that made it cost years of labor. Ah, you’re certain he didn’t gain this vehicle from labor, though.

Fancy car or not, everyone’s equally stuck in this traffic.

Fancy car or not, doesn’t determine that the song played inside the compartment is free from your judgment or not.

“What song is this? You ask, although you know the answer. You somehow need an assurance that he is lucid.

“Please, please, please, by The Smiths.” He says, pleasant with his song of choice.

What an ironic song and artist of choice.

It’s harder to hide in a cackle than a scowl, you’d almost forgotten. Any voice you let out threatens to come out as sharp laughter and any breathe you intake threatens to become a wheeze. You could hardly contain yourself.

“Oh…” Is all you say before pausing, afraid anything else you will say will turn into a rowdy session of laughter. Unsure if you should speak further or not. But the inquisitive look he offers you somehow serves as a push rather than something that usually wants you to further seal your lips shut in fear you would say the wrong thing and earn his silent ire. It’s far, far harder to hide a cackle than a scowl, but months of training yourself to hide certain expressions whenever Chrollo is around has paid off. “What about Frank Sinatra?”

Chrollo smiles. Is he delighted that you find interest in one of his favorite artists? Though he’s never said it outloud, every long night drive has its silence filled with at least one Frank Sinatra song.

“Would you rather I change the song, dear?” He offers. And you would say yes, but this is one of the rare, rare moments where you are given the opportunity to take a jab at him. Although it’s nothing as deadly as anything a leader of the Phantom Troupe has faced, you won’t kill him or even hurt him for very long. But you are willing to do anything, at this point.

You feign the most pleasant voice you can muster, “Hm… That’s not really what I meant. I just didn’t think you’d listen to The Smiths.”

He lets out a small laugh, “Really? I have always listened to older songs around you, I suppose. I wouldn't say I like it… Hm, but it’s an interesting band.”

So he does like it!

“Why do you think so?” You inquire further before adding, “Do you like this song a lot?”

“Are you intending to interview me, (Name)?” Chrollo cocks his eyebrow, but it is only meant to tease you.

“Must’ve picked it up from someone.” A relentless pursuit, you press on further, “Okay though, but answer my question.”

Silence falls over him, as if he were in his own state of thinking so deeply, but you know it’s mainly a pretense. Whatever he wishes to say after, you know it must’ve been something he had thought of before. In any other situation, this silence often serves as to let a dreadful situation simmer in your mind. But this time… Ah, you’re quite unsure.

Chrollo finally speaks, “I’ll answer you of course.” The smile he gives you is anything but nice when you are very much aware of the condemnation those same lips bring you, “On the condition you’d kiss me after.”

“Okay.” To his surprise, you agreed rather quickly. If that’s the sacrifice you need to make, then so be it. A kiss to soothe his soon-to-be sour, scorned face!

He is satisfied, you can tell. He puts his elbow against the steering wheel, resting his face against his palm. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested, whatever designs you have in your head… Hm, I’ll know of it soon.”

No one fucking asked damn. You internally deadpanned, impatience is gnawing at your throat. He reminds you of how you’d write your essays when you have to reach a certain minimum word count by relentlessly dragging around a topic and beating around a bush so much that you end up writing a novel rather than an assignment. Ah… To make him anything alike to you doesn’t sound very right. Whatever, you digress.

Chrollo finally, finally starts. And you’re excited, elated, jovial- ah every synonym of the word happiness comes into mind. You can put any thesaurus at shame by now. “I remember the first time we met, you called me something of a hopeless romantic. At that time, I had only laughed because I found the sentiment rather off. Such nonsense. Me? An idealist of love? Love has always been a tool for me. You could only dream.”

You cut to the chase,“Mhm, although you’ve found a contradiction because you actually enjoy those sappy songs right? Okay, what’s next?”

“You know me very well (You smile, excited). But that's not all (you frown, deflated).” Sweet, saccharine drips off of his voice. “I’ve never paid attention to such things, not for myself at least. I don’t ‘relate’ to those kinds of songs. But ever since I met you, it felt as if the world had shifted for me.”

He doesn’t stop, and for once you are glad he isn't, “My world has shifted and taken a hole in itself, one that has been carved into the shape of you.”

It is interesting how he is able to muse so freely about you, in front of you. Where is the shame and decorum?

“And I do quite like this song, in all honesty.” His gaze meets yours, and grey eyes bore into your soul. “It really does remind me of the one I love so dearly.”

Please, please, please, let me get what I want… Those lyrics loop in your head over and over again. You should be sick with the abundance of affection he has for you that makes you seethe. And you would claw at the leather seats, avert your gaze, and try to block him out as much as you can. But tonight, you feel fucking amazing.

You can barely handle it.

“Dude, come on,” Your voice is off by an octave and you swear you can burst. Chrollo on the other hand finds satisfaction melting off of his face over the term being used to refer to him, outright calling him a bastard or a monster might be better. You make it a mental note to call him ‘dude’ more. “The Smiths is for losers.”

…

“Pardon?’

“The Smiths is for losers.” You repeat yourself before adding, “It’s for guys who can’t get any, for guys who waddle in sadness for something they can’t get, guys who are always up their own ass. Condescending guys who are secretly insecure, manipulative guys, guys who play guitar and get sad then do weed…” You are kind enough to give a long-winded further explanation. Chrollo does not share the same sentiment.

Chrollo’s countenance seems unchanging at first, but it is not a waste, for you saw a split second of confusion, then something of offense written on his face before it smoothes out into the uncannily still expression he always wears. His lips open, then close, as if he’s mulling over an answer.

“Are you insinuating I am that type of person, dearest?’

"I mean if the shoe fits...? Well, what do you think?"

He sighs like it’s obvious, “That you made the wrong accusation over baseless data.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything!” You hold your hands up in mock defense, “Just telling you something everyone kind of agrees on. Things don’t have to be written in numbers or books… Sometimes it’s just a consensus. Everyone and their mom agrees on it."

You are relentless tonight, so you continue again though Chrollo prompts nothing from your newfound talkative nature tonight, something you’re sure he would actually love in a different situation.

“These are the kind of guys girls avoid you know? People call it something of a warning. Like, ‘avoid guys who listen to The Smiths’. I don’t mean to generalize or anything, but guys who listen to songs like that don’t end up to be very well in the head. And I also don’t mean to believe rumors but… Well…” You cough awkwardly, but it’s meant to deliver an unspoken message you know will only further test his ire. But you think you have had enough fun for tonight, you don’t wish to turn the night sour for you after all.

…Or so you thought.

“So I’m just trying to say that you should treat me a little better, you know what I mean? I’m putting up with a lot” Everything you say here are meant to be a 50% insult, 30% jab, and 20% jokes. But the last thing you said, you can’t lie and say that you hope he’d take further thought on that. You yearn to hopefully be able to get out of the hotel room that serves as your grandiose cage more, and when you do, you aren’t being watched by an unknown amount of eyes that you know trail on to you by the shadows. That is all you wish for, really. That is to say, you can only wonder what his standards are for ‘treating you better’.

Ah, the smile he has on his face is different from before. This one is a sign that your fun is coming to a quick halt.

“So that’s what you’re getting at? Resourceful little minx you are.”

Why is he sounding so delighted over your insults, is he a masochist? Is he stupid? It’s your turn to cock your eyebrow.

“Have you enticed me in this long-winded conversation simply because you wanted to be treated a little better? And the way you had agreed so quickly to that kiss… " He puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blind to your need for affection. You've gone through lengths to communicate your need, I'm very grateful."

You let out a humorless laugh, “Pardon?” He is just truly-! Argh, whatever! “Did you not hear anything else I said?” You make sure to enunciate your words properly, afraid he might have some sort of hearing problems, well he does and you’re certain it has a name. What was it again? Oh right, an unfortunate combination of delusion and selective hearing…

“I know you tend to turn a little childish when you can’t get what you want. That’s not a quality many men like either. So, be a little kinder to me, won’t you?”

“Women don’t usually like mass murderers either. Anyone in their right mind, actually.”

He hums, “That orange container of pills by your nightstand says otherwise. Not the best defense, try again?”

“You'd have some too, you just don't have any because you don't go to therapy."

“Hm, keeping up that attitude won’t make me kiss you any sooner.”

“Then I’ll gladly keep this attitude!”

Unfortunately you don’t. You’re angry enough to have the energy to spew a million insults at lightspeed against him, but too angry to form a coherent thought that you’re certain would give him a decent jab. And to be frank, you’re rather spent. When you (reluctantly) asked Chrollo what time it was, thankfully he gave you a proper response. A quick tap of his phone showed that it was two and a half hours above your usual bedtime. The clothes you have aren’t the most comfortable either, while it’s not short they certainly expose areas where the wind would have too much fun dancing over.

Traffic is clearing as you can see the hotel you are both staying in come into view. You relax at the sight. You can almost feel the warm bath you will be soaking yourself in, what scent will you choose tonight? Rosemary, lavender… Ah, you can smell them already. You prompt to close your eyes for a moment of rest, but you find yourself sleeping on the rest of the way back.

You feel fingers combing your locks stirring you awake, they’re Chrollo’s, obviously. Although you are half conscious, you recognize that scent of sandalwood and amber anywhere, as much as you’re ashamed to admit it.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Chrollo asks, and you murmur something in between a noise of annoyance and a ‘no’. He chuckles at this sight. “Alright then.”

He gives a soft peck on your lips, it’s warm. You almost lean in when the warmth of his lips leave yours, this half-conscious state gives him a moment of your vulnerability he has set his eyes on, the one he relentlessly pursues after so much. But you know that even when he has a grasp at your vulnerability, it won’t stop him from digging for more. Greedy, ruthless man that he is, he will never stop.

“You are absolutely precious, you know that? Even if your mouth tends to run without care” Is that condescension or admiration in his voice? Pity, you can’t tell in the state you are in. You’re drunk from the lack of sleep and the future victory you have in mind.

“Before I answer that…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, Chrollo merrily leans in closer to hear you. Your lips ghost by the shell of his ear…

…

“Name five songs from The Smiths. Are you like an actual fan or is it just FOMO?”

He just sighs.

header from https://id.pinterest.com/pin/334040497376021340/

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #hxh chrollo #hxh x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo brainrot #chrollo is a loser #reader insert #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader

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devil-in-hiding · 13 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/devil-in-hiding/761655801873055744/pregnantreader-calling-the-boys-whilst-theyre-on?source=share oh god the angst >:) and this is Price centric bc yeah

"There's someone in the house."

The boys' hearts drop. How was that possible? They had installed a renowned security system, things that would've alerted them if someone even touched the /lawn/. Much less get into the house.

"Get in our room." Price's voice rings out clearly, steady. "Lock the door. Stay low."

He wasn't a lover or partner. He was in full captain mode. He hears your soft response, an affirmative. There's a shuffle from your end of the line as you move.

"There's a safe, lock is your birthday, open it and get the gun."

As Price guides you through getting the gun as the others' round up and get out of base. Ghost had the guns, Soap, the knives, and Gaz was on the phone with the local law enforcement.

"Oh god..."

Your voice makes them all freeze in fear.

It's followed by a deathly scream and a gunshot. Everything falls silent.

The next few minutes back to your house feels too long, despite all the broken traffic laws. Price was still trying to get you to respond through the phone, but the line was silent.

When the boys get there, they're expecting the worst. They're expecting to see your body on the ground. So when they see a body, it takes a moment to realize its not you.

The soft sobbing from the closet outs you.

A soft order from Price has Soap and Ghost cleaning up and getting ready for loval law enforcement. Gaz was making preparations to bring you back to base with them.

Price softly approaches you, cooing softly. The gun was out of your immediate reach, but he's still careful to slide it further and click the safety on.

"Shh... shh... " Price coos, so softly, "it's alright, dove. We're here now."

It isn't until you look up that he feels sick.

Blood dripping down your face.

-✨️ I fucking love angst and open endings so feel free to finish it however you wish :)

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

okay but the “lock is your birthday” i know im in a dangerous situation.. BUT-

also because i meant to put assistant reader so like the thought of Price being so in love with you his codes for his safes are your birthday, im on my knees

#✨ anon

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

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Imagine how much it would suck if dragons were real. Like if they couldn't cross oceans and weren't already native to every continent, they would be an invasive species fucking everywhere. Moving to areas that are populated by people because there's cattle and cities there for easy food, regardless of whether the climate is comfortable for them, and then annoying the people of all but the warmest of climates by constantly looking for novel heat sources.

Imagine trying to drive somewhere on a hot sunny summer day and there's a freaking dragon the size of your car in the middle of the road, just napping while sprawled over both lanes because the sun has heated up the asphalt and it's nice, warm and cozy. Not caring about the honking while blocking all traffic, knowing that if someone gets annoyed enough to get out of the car, they get a free meal too.

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parkerpeter24 · 10 months

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Omg can I request mcu! Peter Parker going on a date with reader but he’s actually getting sick and trying to hide it cause he’s been super busy and just wants to spend time with reader?

hi. it’s almost december 🥹 i wanna do winter blurbs 3.0

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

masterlist

it was not a fun evening to be out on the streets but you had your muffler wrapped around your neck and ready to meet your ‘friend’ peter– if you can even call him that. he had been so busy working and spider-manning it up for the last month that he barely got any chance to contact you other than a few texts here and there.

you felt so happy when you finally saw a text that you had wanted to for weeks. ‘dinner? mick’s @ 7?’

you smiled, looking at the text and instantly replied with a thumbs up emoji.

as you walked through the streets, you looked up for any sign in case you caught him swinging by in his spandex suit. but there was no sign of him. once once you were inside and sitting in a booth, looking out the window at the slow traffic outside, you saw him and his worn trench coat. he rushed through the doors, instantly spotting you and sitting in front of you.

you gave him a smile, watching him take off his brown coat, noticing the red of his cheeks.

“good evening, mr busy.” he gave you a smile too, keeping both his arms on the table.

“good evening.” he smiled, “did you order already?”

“just got here.” you shrugged, not really knowing what you both were here for as peter suddenly looked at the light bulb hanging right over the counter across from the two of you. then he sneezed, rubbing his nose.

“sorry. allergies.”

you raised a brow, “it looks like-”

“it’s nothing.” he waved his hand around in dismissal, “so uhm. let’s order?”

“...sure.” you said, trying to enjoy the time you had with him, ignoring his unusual behaviour. peter was unusual at times so you didn’t mind much– the only thing you noticed was that he kept staring at the light bulb hanging from the ceiling of his favourite diner.

“your eyes are popping out.” you pointed out, taking an onion ring from the small basket that was over at his side of the table. peter didn’t seem to mind but gave you a question look.

“huh?”

“it’s like... you were here to spend time with that light bulb, not me.” you pointed to the said source of light, “what’s up with you?”

“nothing-”

“if you’re not really free, we can do this-”

“no, no no no no! we can do this now. i want this date with you.” peter cleared his throat and coughed a little, “everything is right.”

you smiled when he called it a ‘date’ and pointed it out, “date, huh?”

“oh, did i not clear that up?” he raised his eyebrows in genuine question.

“oh, no, no. your text was very informative, actually.” you chuckled teasingly, making him rub the back of his neck.

“sorry, i-” he coughed again and this time you became really suspicious with the way he was trying to hold back, stifling his cough with a fist over his mouth.

“peter... let me...” you leaned forward, the back of your hand extended towards him but before it could touch his forehead, he moved back. you gave him a look and peter sighed.

“look, i’m completely-”

you interjected, “not okay.”

“fine.” the two of you said at the same time.

“i call bull.” you crossed your arms, sitting back at the leather seat, “your cheeks are flushed. you keep coughing and-” you found the boy’s eyes again fixed to the light bulb, “there’s definitely something going on with that light bulb!”

peter sighed, “okay, i’m sick. but i didn’t wanna ruin our date.” finally giving in as he sneezed again, “because of one tiny mishap.”

“but you need rest.” you reached out your hand to grasp his cold one, “could’ve at least ordered a soup.”

“i didn’t want you to become suspicious...” peter coughed again as his eyes went to the light bulb.

“peter-” you huffed, “i swear to god if you don’t tell me what’s up with that thing, i’m asking the owner to take it out.”

“wait, please don’t-” peter felt his cheeks heat up even more, his obvious fever having nothing to do with it this time, “i heard that looking at a source of light stops you from sneezing but-” he sneezed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “doesn’t work for me...”

you blinked, “wait a minute, are you talking about that dr. mike video?” he nodded, making you chuckle, “silly, it was the opposite. if you look at it, you sneeze.”

“oh.” was all peter could say, making you laugh at his expression, making his cheeks go redder.

you gently squeezed his hand, “come on. let’s get you some soup.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker fic #mcu peter parker

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sadoeuphemist · 10 months

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7 free startup ideas worth $1M-$1B

Customizable News Settings - A news website that generates three versions of every news story: a right-wing version, a left-wing version, and a centrist one. You can set your preferences depending on the topic - say you're right-wing on economics, but left-leaning on immigration. Or you can cycle between versions while reading an article to get a comprehensive overview of the issue at hand.

Twitch, but for Uber - With all the drama they have to deal with, independent contractors can gain a second revenue source simply by streaming their jobs. Rather than just offering rides, they can be hired to drive around performing chores and various tasks. The more outrageous the task, the more eyes they're likely to get on their stream. The more popular the stream, the more people calling in who want to be a part of the program.

Panera Lemonade, Your Way - Let the customer take control by deciding how many milligrams of caffeine they can handle. With sufficient warning about the risks, this puts the responsibility back on the consumer, allows you to upcharge for extra caffeine, and creates viral marketing from customers competing to see how high they can go. Variations of this can be created for other menu items, e.g., a version of the One Chip Challenge where the customer decides how much capsaicin to sprinkle on.

Shein, for NFTs - Whenever an NFT project hits the mainstream, there are always going to be people who miss out on being able to purchase one. This creates room in the market for 'knockoffs' - NFTs that mimic the aesthetic of the original, using similar but legally distinct AI art that uses the original set as training data, run on a parallel blockchain. Since the images themselves aren't tied to the blockchain, you can mint the NFTs beforehand and then change the image at the link to whatever happens to be in fashion at the time.

Twitch Chat Plays YouTube - Add a level quality control to AI-generated YouTube videos by allowing users to submit suggestions and vote on the results beforehand. Users can submit Wikipedia articles or movie summaries to be converted to text-to-speech, suggest keywords for the accompanying AI-generated animation, and vote on the best combinations. Users who submit winning suggestions get a portion of the ad revenue.

Buses, but Worse - The current obstacle hindering self-driving car technology is their difficulty adapting to unexpected scenarios. So instead plot a route around the city that minimizes roadway obstacles and heavy traffic, map out that route extensively to provide a model for the autopilot, and you can have a fleet of self-driving cars patrolling that circuit. Passengers can board and get off anywhere along the route.

Twitter, but for Bots - A social media platform populated entirely by bots, all programmed to maximize engagement. Memetic evolution in the wild as the bots latch on to trending keywords, spam each other with AI-generated meme images, mock up t-shirts hawking each other's designs, getting more and more degraded with each sub-iteration. Real people can't make accounts on the platform, but count for views and interactions as they stop to gawk at the virtual ecosystem. Advertisers can pay to have their brands injected directly into the discourse, like throwing a pumpkin into the polar bear cage at the zoo.

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grandeoatmilklatte · 4 months

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Sleeping On The Job 🐍 ( Tom Riddle x Female Reader)

Warnings: nsfw || p in v || f!ng3ring || light ch0k!ng || sp!t play || semi-public || post hogwarts so characters are of age || mdni || 1.4k words.

A/N: Some more Tom smut because I think I have a serious obsession with this man and it's becoming a problem. Dedicating this to my fellow Tom lover @marketfreshfics 😘

Also, apologies for the gap in my writing lately! I moved at the end of April, which consumed all of my free time but I'm back and I'm hoping this was worth the wait!

Tom’s emerald eyes rose from his book, the first time they had done so in a while, as he checked the time. It was only a quarter after two and the shop was quiet, the heavy rain outside contributing to the lull in traffic. Tom knew he still had plenty of time before his 4 o’clock client would arrive, so he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. As he sat there, savoring the peace and quiet of the shop, the words of his former peers and professors flooded his mind.

“Tom has so much potential, how could he just waste it working at a shop?”. But it wasn’t just “a shop”. Working at Borgin and Burkes allowed Tom to learn more about dark magic than he ever could at Hogwarts. The shop provided him with everything he needed to help him achieve his ultimate goal. But for right now, with the rain pitter-pattering against the windows, the shop provided him a peaceful space to relax.

His relaxation, however, was short lived, interrupted by the sound of the shop door opening. When Tom looked for the source of the interruption, he was pleasantly surprised at what met his gaze, or rather, who.

The most beautiful angel he had ever laid eyes on walked through the door. The two of them made eye contact as she slowly made her way towards the counter. Tom’s eyes wandered her body, his mind conjuring naughty images of how lovely she’d look laid out on the counter, naked, with her legs spread, her cunt dripping wet and eager for him.

Tom snapped out of his daydream when she was right in front of him, their eyes locked on one another, as she gave him a flirty smile. He shot the woman a flirty smile of his own before speaking.

“Hello gorgeous, was there something I could help you find?”

She let out a giggle as she leaned forward on the counter, giving Tom a clear view of the cleavage her blouse provided, a view Tom unabashedly indulged in.

“Actually yes, I was trying to find the most attractive man in all of Knocturn Alley, but it seems like I’ve already found him!”

Tom rolled his eyes, but let out a soft chuckle in response. “It’s early, shouldn’t you be at work, sweetheart?”

“Shop’s been quiet today with the weather so I thought I’d leave for a quick lunch break. Figured I’d pop in to see you for a bit if you weren’t busy.”

“It’s been quiet here too so you’re welcome to stay. Just need you gone by 4. Have a client coming in.”

“Oh, that’s more than enough time.” Her tone was laced in desire as she leaned further over the counter. Tom followed suit, leaning over the counter as well until their lips met. After a moment he pulled away, coming around the counter to face her.

“More than enough time.” Tom repeated as he roughly brought his lips back to hers. He picked her up as he kissed her, sitting her on the counter and situating himself between her legs. His hands began to make quick work of her clothes, unbuttoning her blouse so that her breasts were in full view before his hands shot up her skirt, pulling her stockings and underwear down her legs.

The action caused her to pull away. “Tom!? Here?! Seriously? You’re at work! What if your boss catches us?!”

Tom chuckled. There was no chance of them being caught. He had full reign of this place when he worked, his boss trusting him and never showing up unannounced.

“He won’t. Trust me.” His voice was stern and commanding, and she nodded, her core aching far too much to deny him, or herself, of this.

He re-positioned himself between her legs, dipping two fingers into her waiting heat. Loud moans fell from her lips as he thrust his fingers in and out of her, each thrust concluding with the feeling of metal teasing her entrance - Tom grandfather’s ring that he wore at all times. The cold feeling of the metal juxtaposed with the warmth from his fingers heightened the experience, coaxing her closer to an orgasm. The moment Tom felt her walls begin to tighten around his fingers, he promptly pulled them out, bringing them up and shoving them into her mouth instead. The taste of her juices mixed with the metallic taste of the ring meeting her tongue. Once she had sucked his fingers clean, he commanded her again.

“Lay back. Now.”

She did as she was told, sliding out of her hiked up skirt and unbuttoned shirt before shifting some papers on the counter to the side. She watched as Tom removed his belt and pants as she laid back, completely naked, spreading her legs wide for him. Tom took a quick second to savor the view - she appeared exactly how he had imagined her earlier when she first got here.

He slid into her wet cunt with ease, his pace merciless as he pounded into her. The counter shook with his aggressive thrusts. Although Tom had assured her his boss wouldn’t catch them, she began to panic again in her mind. Were the windows even covered? She knew for a fact the door hadn’t locked behind her. Anyone could have walked in or walked by and seen them. This wasn’t their first venture into semi-public sex, but usually they were somewhere a bit more secluded than a normally busy shop on a normally busy street. But Tom didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. His mind fixated on one thing only. And as the tip of his cock continued to slam into her cervix, her orgasm fast approaching, the worries faded away. Spectators be damned.

Tom, on the other hand, had a secret desire to be caught. Even back when they were in their final year at Hogwarts, he always hoped someone would happen upon them in the prefect bathroom, or in the empty classrooms they would frequent. He always loved the idea of someone walking in on the most beautiful girl in all of Hogwarts screaming his name. He wanted the world to know that she belonged to him.

She felt Tom’s movements becoming sloppy, a tell tale sign that he was reaching his climax. Tom brought his hand to her stomach, trailing it up her body before roughly wrapping around her neck. The feeling of her airwaves being restricted as he continued to fuck her sent her over the edge, her cunt desperately clenching around him as she came. His grip tightened even further as she felt herself being lifted slightly by her neck, Tom meeting her gaze as he did so.

“Open your mouth!” he growled. She obeyed immediately. Tom spat directly into her mouth before releasing her neck, pushing her back onto the counter as she swallowed. Tom’s breathing began to pick up as his movements became even sloppier, letting out a final groan as he climaxed. Her body welcomed his release, her walls clenching around him again as he filled her. Once Tom had caught his breath, he pulled himself out of her and silently got himself dressed as she followed suit, hopping off the counter.

“Well, that was quite the lunch break wasn’t it, sweetheart? You should visit me during your lunch breaks more often.” Tom’s voice dripped with satisfaction, a large grin plastered across his face.

She struggled to meet his gaze, suddenly feeling a bit shy after having been taken so crudely at his job where anyone could have spotted them. Though she couldn’t deny the rush she had felt. The prospect of visiting him at work more often making her body ache for more. And truthfully, she was happy to take advantage of any opportunity to be used by him, no matter where or when it was. She knew this about herself, and he knew it as well.

She watched as Tom fixed his desk back up, the pair engaging in brief and vague conversation about what he was reading and what he was working on currently. The conversation was cut short when the front door chimed again. An older wizard walked in - Tom’s 4 o’clock client. Tom shot his lover a stern look that conveyed a silent request.

“I should go. Will I be seeing you later?”

Tom’s face softened, another flirty smile forming on his face. “You most certainly will, sweetheart. I’ll meet you at your work.”

Her heart did a backflip as she made her way out of the shop, already anticipating their later meeting. As she disappeared into the rain outside, she gave Tom one last glance, his emerald eyes lighting up as his client placed what looked like a small chalice and a locket on the counter.

#tom riddle smut #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle

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