#how could you cancel chemistry like this

[mariasont]

valentines day with hotch & bimbo reader!!!?

Cuddle Retention Program - A.H

summary: it’s valentine’s day and all bimbo!assistant!reader wants is for hotch to stay in bed a litttttleeee longer pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: just fluffity fluff, v day fic, established relationship, bimbo!assistant being clingy, morning cuddles & kisses wc: 1.1k

Aaron smelled good in the mornings. Stupidly good. The kind of good that turned your brain into sugar-spun fluff, like slipping into freshly dried sheets or a golden kiss on frostbitten skin. Maybe it was his soap. Maybe it was his skin. Science might have some sort of explanation (Spencer would have pages of them), something about pheromones and chemistry and attraction.

Or maybe it was just him, just the way he existed in the world, the way loving him had rewired your brain to decide that he was your favorite scent, your favorite feeling, your favorite everything. Either way, you were obsessed with it, shameless in the way you pressed yourself closer, nuzzling into his chest like you could evaporate him into your skin, breathing him in as if you could store the feeling somewhere deep inside you.

And really, who could blame you? You were half awake (mind still sleep-soft) and it was Valentine's Day, which meant self-restraint was officially cancelled.

Your only job today was to love Aaron Hotchner with every fiber of your being, to the fullest capacity, and you planned to be relentless about it. You'd smother him in it, drown him in every ridiculous ounce of affection you could muster. You had a pile of silly, heartfelt gifts, things chosen with obscene amounts of thought, things that would earn you that signature Hotchner sigh, half exasperated with how much you had spent, half-somewhere-deep-down-amused. 

And if the universe were feeling generous, if the stars were truly aligned, you'd get the look. That tiny, secret almost-smirk, the one he thought you never noticed, the one that melted you down to nothing but pink, love-struck goo.

You sigh, wriggling a little just to get that much closer. Legs tangled, noses nearly brushing, lips tickling his throat as you exhale, voice sleep-rough and overtly greedy.

"Not letting you go," you murmur with full intent, pressing a semi-conscious kiss to his skin. "Ever, ever, ever."

Aaron exhales slowly, the sound rumbling low in his chest and transferring to yours. His hold on you hardens, not much, but just enough that your stomach does that stupid little flip, the one it always does when he pulls you closer without thinking. When he was somewhere between a dream and waking, but instinctively still reaching for you.

He doesn’t even open his eyes, just tucks his face into your hair and sighs, "Wasn't planning on going anywhere."

Your lips curve into a love-drunk smile as you steal another breath of him. "Better not."

Aaron groans, rolling just enough to squint at the clock before flopping back onto the pillow. His arm stays draped over you, pulling you closer like he's trying to trap you back in sleep with him. 

"Sweet girl," he sighs, "why must you insist on waking up at an ungodly hour?"

"Because I missed you while you were sleeping."

He exhales a quiet laugh, his hands roaming up your back in sleepy strokes. "I was right here."

"Not consciously," you countered, nudging your nose against his throat before pressing an exaggerated bite to his jaw. "You weren't actively showering me in love and affection, and I found that extremely rude."

Aaron huffs out a laugh, barely cracking one eye open as his lips quirk. "That so? Didn't realize I was neglecting my duties"

"Mhm," you sigh, tracing a finger over the firm plane of his chest. "Fortunately for you, I'm very forgiving. You can make it up to me by loving me right now."

"I always love you. Even in my sleep. Some of us don't need to be conscious to be devoted."

His fingers continue to skim idly under your pajama shirt, like touching you wasn't even a decision, just something ingrained, something automatic. A habit. A necessity. (Which it is now, but still, the thought stuns you every time.) Then, as if to personally disintegrate you, he presses a kiss to your forehead, careless in the way only deeply familiar love can be.

Your heart squeezes, affection swelling inside you, spreading like sunlight from the inside out. You want to savor in it, to bask in it, but then you feel the slow stretch of his legs, the unconscious twitch of his fingers, the tense of his body like he was preparing to push himself upright. Because Aaron does not know how to just relax in bed. Once he’s awake, he has to be moving, and that was not okay with you.

You don't mean to whine, it just slips out, an undeniably needy sound that always makes him pause. And predictably, he does. His body hesitates, giving you the perfect opening to wrap yourself around him, draping yourself across his lap. One leg hooks over his thigh, your arms lock around his torso. 

"Sweetheart, I need to—,"

"No," you plead, lower lip jutting out as you tilt up, blinking up at him so sweetly. "Don't leave me. It's warm. You're warm. Just five more minutes?"

Your eyes flicker up just in time to catch the exact moment he scrubs a tired hand down an equally tired face, and your heart trips, stumbles, falls face-first like it has no sense of self-preservation.

Because you love that. Borderline worship it. The way his fingers drag along his jaw, the brief scratch of his knuckles, the way his palm catches on the small stubble that always grows in overnight. You used to watch him do this at work, back when he was still just your boss.

You'd time it, find the right moment to drop off files or refill his coffee just for the purpose of being closer. Just so you could steal a few extra seconds of him, to soak in all the details you weren't supposed to love yet.

Now, you don't have to steal anything. He's yours, and he's not getting out of bed.

He laughs, letting himself sink deeper into the pillows. "You do realize I'm not supposed to negotiate with terrorists, right?"

"That's okay," you sigh, wiggling until you're sprawled completely on top of him, face pressed against his chest. "I don't negotiate either. I take prisoners."

Aaron exhales, shaking his head, but he’s already wrapping an arm around you, tucking you closer like he has no intention of actually getting up. "Of course."

You let out an exaggerated, dreamy sigh. "Ah, yes. A man who knows when to admit defeat. A rare breed. An endangered species."

"Is that so?"

"Mmmhmm. And do you know what happens to rare, precious things, Aaron?"

His fingers twitched. "Dare I ask?"

"They get worshiped." 

You laugh, breathless and helpless, giddy with the sheer force of how much you adore him. And then you're everywhere, littering his face with kisses, pressing your lips to his cheek, his jaw, his absurdly perfect nose, like you can't stand to leave a single inch untouched.

Between kisses, the words spill out, certain, bubbling up in the space of each press of your lips.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

Like the words belong to him. Like you belong to him. Like you could spend forever saying them and it still wouldn’t scratch the surface of how much.

Aaron sighs, as if he's been personally victimized by your love and affection, but then his fingers press into your ribs, and suddenly you are the victim.

"Aaron!" you shriek, laughter bursting from your chest as you try, and fail, to wriggle away. "You're—ah!—so unfair!"

Before you even register his movement, he flips you onto your back, pinning you down with a ridiculous, infuriatingly smug amount of control.

He smirks, his fingers trailing lazily over your temple as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Oh, I thought we were showing love and affection?"

Your hands fist into his shirt, tugging slightly, refusing to let him tease you with the closeness he’s clearly drawing out on purpose. His lips hover above yours, his breath fanning over your skin.

"Happy Valentine's Day sweetheart," he whispers, before his lips find yours.

"My beautiful," another kiss. "Happy," another, slower this time. "Perfect girl." His lips linger just a second longer. "My girl. My love. Always."

And then he kisses you again, fully, completely, endlessly like he wanted to live in you, in your pulse, in the gaps between every heartbeat, like he wanted to leave traces of himself in every breath you took, every sigh, every second between now and forever.

Yeah. That’ll do it.

You blink up at him, lips still tingling, brain definitely not working. "Oh my god. You should kiss me like that every morning. And every night. And also right now. Just to be safe."

"You'd really let me get away with that?"

His voice is quiet but so sure of you, because he already knows the answer. And then he kisses you again, like he's claiming the privilege anyway.

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, smut mndi, chronic pain mention, I always feel like my confessions are awk so sorry if you think this one is too

note for minors: a lot of this chapter is smut, but you can read up until the red line without worrying about it. There's no summary this time because it really is just smut for smut's sake and all the character development happens before it starts, so you won't need it for the plot. There is one vague mention of boners before the red line (sorry it's just for a laugh), but that's it

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

You catch on quickly to what’s happened between Sirius and Remus. What you don’t understand is why they’ve interrupted it to come talk to you. And how you could be wrong twice—do they cancel out if you were truly right the first time? 

Clearly, the chemistry you’d felt between Remus and Sirius wasn’t imagined. You’d convinced yourself you must’ve gotten your wires crossed—otherwise why would Remus have kissed you?—but evidently they’ve come to some sort of agreement. Are they here to ask for your permission? Intra-team fornicating: approved. 

You’re not sure if you wish they’d waited until they were less hard to pop by. 

“Um.” You keep your eyes very intentionally on the boys’ faces. “What’s up?” 

Sirius looks almost nervous, skittish even, but Remus’ hand wraps around his to pull him closer to your doorway. Your heart does something funny in your chest. 

“Could we talk?” Sirius asks. 

“Er…yeah. Of course.” You step aside, letting them into your small room. Remus sits politely on the edge of your bed, giving you deja vu from the night before, while Sirius makes himself comfortable further back. He leans his side into your pillow where it’s propped up on the wall. 

“We were talking,” starts Remus, “and I told Sirius about what happened between us.” 

Your next breath seems to come slower. Unwillingly, your gaze flits to Sirius, but he looks impassive, only like he might be scrutinizing you in turn. You look back at Remus. “You did?” 

“I did,” he says gently. “But it wasn’t—” 

“Babe,” Sirius interrupts, “don’t look so freaked. What’s the matter? And why are you still standing there?” 

You realize you’re hugging yourself around your middle, standing awkwardly in front of the bed. “I’m not sure it’s meant to hold three people,” you say weakly. 

Sirius snorts, whatever nervousness he’d arrived with vanishing. Sirius has always been good this way; he can only ever panic when no one else is, but the second you’re panicking too he’s all ease. 

“Don’t be silly.” He pats the space between himself and Remus. It’s as ample as the bed allows, which isn’t saying much. “It’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s your bed.” 

You can’t think of a good reason to argue. Something in you calms as you settle in between them, Sirius’ hip touching yours and the warmth of Remus’ body on your other side. It’s familiar, safe. 

“Are you upset?” you ask Sirius. 

His brows pinch. “Why would I be?” 

“Because…” You cringe. “Aren’t you two…?”

“There’s been a lot of confusion, I think,” Remus says kindly. “But when we were talking, we both sort of came to the realization that we fancy each other…and you.” 

There’s a dense pause. 

“And me?” you echo. 

Remus’ lips tilt slightly. “Yes.” 

“As in…” You rub your eyes, dumbfounded. “Sorry, I did just wake up.” 

Sirius laughs. Remus too, reaching over to rub your knee like he can’t help himself. 

“For the record, I didn’t plan any of this,” says Sirius, “but if I had, I’d have done it exactly this way. It’s very gratifying to finally disturb your sleep schedules the way you pricks have been doing to me all these weeks.” 

“Oi,” Remus chides teasingly, reaching over you to push at Sirius’ thigh. You marvel at this new easiness between them, now given even newer context. “Anyway, we thought we’d come see if you might be interested.” 

“In…you.” You rub your lips together, looking between them and noticing Sirius’ gaze has fallen to your mouth. Unless you’re terribly mistaken and you’ve got it all wrong, this means he fancies you as well. Your partner, your best friend. 

The idea isn’t as upsetting as it ought to be. 

Do you fancy him too? You’ve never thought about Sirius in that way. You love him, of course, but you’ve never taken the time to parse out if it might be a different sort of love than the kind between friends. And as for the rest—well, who wouldn’t be attracted to Sirius? You’re only human. 

“In both of us, yes,” Remus confirms patiently. 

“Is that something you’d be into?” Sirius asks. 

Your answer leaves you on a breath, thoughtless but true. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius grins. 

You nod. You’re suddenly fixated by the way his cupid’s bow flattens out when he smiles like that. It’s something you’ve noticed a thousand times before, but now…

“Yeah,” you say again. “Um…what do we do?” 

Remus chuckles. “I don’t really know. I’ve not been with two people before.” 

“Believe it or not, this is a first for me as well,” Sirius says lightly. 

“Right,” you laugh. It breaks up some of the apprehension in your chest. 

“If you want to,” Remus’ voice softens, “I suppose you could start by kissing him.” 

You look at him, then at Sirius. For the first time, something like insecurity flashes across his face. 

“You don’t have to,” he says quietly. No longer the brazen flirt, but the kind, considerate boy you know. “It’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply. 

It’s like he’s afraid to touch you until you get to him. You steady yourself with a hand on his jaw, your other pressing into the mattress as you lean towards where he’s reclined against your pillow and bring your lips to his. 

You know all the ways that Sirius moves, and even this new, completely uncharted part of him is consistent. Sirius’ kisses start out slow, probing, feeling out what you like and what he can do, but then he gives himself over to it. His hands find first your hips, urging you closer to him before one slides to the small of your back. Greedy fingers curl in the fabric of your pajama top. 

You make a small, accidental sound in the back of your throat when his teeth tease your bottom lip, and Sirius pulls away. You’re both breathing hard. 

Sirius stares at you for a weighted moment before his eyes drift behind you and he huffs out a laugh. “Enjoyed that, did you?” 

You look over your shoulder, and Remus is watching you both with a low flame burning in his gaze. He flushes a tad at the question but his expression doesn’t change. He leans forward, kissing you, tasting Sirius on your lips. 

───────────────────────────────────────────

The three of you don’t need to speak much to communicate. Remus pulls you back into him, his length hardening against your ass, and Sirius follows. He kisses Remus over your shoulder with a relieved sort of sigh. All the while, his hands are roving your thighs, pushing up your pajama shorts until they crease and pinch at your crotch. 

You exhale and tilt your head to the side when Remus drops his lips to your neck. “We have a competition tomorrow,” you remind them both. “We ought to be resting up.” 

You feel Sirius’ grin as he brings his mouth to yours again. “Yup.” He nips your bottom lip. “I’m aware this is a bad idea.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t condone it,” Remus agrees, one hand covering your ribs while the other sneaks down to tease the waist of your pajama shorts.Your poor shorts are being attacked from both sides. “How far do you want to go?” 

Sirius pulls his lips from yours to watch you think. They still tingle, and you rub them together unconsciously. His eyes darken. 

“You drive me mad when you do that,” he says. 

“Do what?” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. He brings his thumb to your lower lip, pressing down on it gently. His own lips are swollen and gleaming prettily with spit, eyes nearly all pupil. Remus’ hand strokes lazily at your side. 

“I want to go as far as you guys want to,” you say without breaking Sirius’ gaze. 

His grin widens, and he looks at Remus, shrugging. “We could just go until somebody says stop.” 

“Alright,” says Remus. One of his hands leaves you, finger hooking in the waist of Sirius’ trousers. “Can we take these off, then?” 

Sirius isn’t shy, but you didn’t think he would be. He sits up on his knees and pulls them down, letting Remus help them over his ankles before they’re discarded in a heap on the floor. Remus gets rid of his too, and then you’re staring at the outlines of both boys through the far thinner material of their underwear. 

Remus ghosts a touch over Sirius’ cock, making the other boy’s expression pinch with want, before pulling down the waistband. Lithe, graceful muscles and hip bones curving inwards. Sirius curses as Remus’ long fingers wrap around him. 

Remus pumps slowly, his own arousal an insistent heat at your hip. You find your attention torn between the feeling of his body against your backside and the sultry droop of Sirius’ eyelids as he watches Remus work his cock. 

“Doesn’t he look pretty?” Remus murmurs. 

It takes you a second to realize he’s speaking to you. “Yeah.” Your mouth feels dry. You swallow, and watch as Sirius’ eyes flit up to the motion. “He always does.” 

Remus hums in agreement, pressing a light kiss to an exposed bit of skin beside the neckline of your top. “Do you want to try, lovely?” 

You turn your head to look at him. Remus’ eyes are glued to Sirius. “What about you?” 

A chuckle, and another soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll be alright.” 

Remus waits until your hand is around Sirius’ shaft, pumping a couple times against his own fist, before letting go. You choose a slightly less languid pace than Remus had. Sirius twitches in your grasp, taking your face in his hands and setting his lips to yours with a muffled groan. 

Behind you, Remus moves closer until his length is pressed against your ass. One of his hands steadies you by the hip while the other dips below the waistband of your shorts, palming you through your underwear. You shift, and he hisses when you move against him. 

You turn your head on instinct, Sirius’ lips smudging across your cheek. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is breathy, amused. “You just surprised me.” 

“What’d she do?” Sirius is never one to be left out of the loop. 

“Just backed into me.” 

“Oh. Gorgeous,” he smiles, turning you by the chin to capture your lips again, “who wouldn’t want that?” 

Their praise soon has you devolving into a thoughtless, sensory creature. Sirius’ hands caress your face and neck and Remus’ fingers brush your panties aside to toy with your cunt. Every movement of your hips makes him push more insistently against you. Your shirt comes off, Remus dotting your shoulders with sweet kisses. Your grip tightens on Sirius’ cock, and a low, needy sound tears out of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Just like that.” 

Your heart flutters at the endearment, but you don’t let your movements stall. Soon he’s pushing his hips into your hand, kisses turning messy and desperate, your own sounds harder to suppress as Remus bullies your clit with two fingers. You’re glad to know at least Sirius’ room is empty on your other side, because you’re beginning to wonder how thick these walls are. Remus pushes his length into the crease between your asscheeks through your shorts, Sirius’ cock beginning to twitch in your hand, and you press your lips together to contain a sound that promises to be both loud and mortifying—and the bed collapses. 

You fall backwards onto Remus as the cardboard on his end gives out, sending all three of you to the floor. Sirius’ teeth knock into yours and Remus catches you around the waist with both hands, keeping you from fully sitting on his hard cock. 

“Fuck.” Sirius brings a hand to his mouth. “What the fuck?” 

“Oh, shit.” You scramble away from Remus, onto the floor. Both boys look at you in alarm. You’re looking to where Remus’ leg is bent underneath him, not at a terribly cruel angle, but still— “Your hip. Is your hip okay?” 

“Oh.” Remus glances down as though he’s forgotten it himself, realization dawning over his features. 

“Fuck,” Sirius breaths, remembering as well. His hand moves toward Remus but lingers in the air, afraid of hurting him. 

“It’s…yeah, it’s okay,” says Remus. His eyes meet yours. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.” 

Sirius’ brows pinch, but his hand makes it the rest of the way, rubbing tentatively over Remus’ hip joint. “Are you sure?” 

Remus shifts slowly, sitting up off his knees to move closer to Sirius. “I’m sure.” A little smile graces his lips. “You worried about me, Pads?” 

Sirius’ face splits in the sort of grin you can only ever surprise out of him. “Fuck off,” he laughs, pushing Remus away when he tries to kiss him. Remus catches Sirius’ hands, his own smile unfurling slowly, almost unwillingly. It makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How sweet,” he hums, smug. 

You find yourself smiling at them both, your heart a balloon in your chest. 

“Okay.” You give the mattress a little tug. “In that case, could you guys get off?”

“What’re you doing?” Remus asks. Both he and Sirius move. 

“Having this on a slant doesn’t seem like a good idea, so I’m moving it.” 

It should be awkward, this break in the tension, but maybe it’s because you’re so used to working as a team that it isn’t. You all get the mattress situated on the floor, and then you’re dragging Remus’ underwear off, his hands moving kind and doting over the lengths of your arms. He inhales a small breath as Sirius takes his cock into his mouth. 

You watch Sirius’ lips move up and down his shaft, his eyes dark and growing shiny as he takes Remus as far as he can. You aren’t quite sure how to contribute, but when you rub the inside of Sirius’ thigh tentatively both boys moan. You take that to mean you’re on the right track. 

The muscles in Sirius’ back flex as he raises and lowers his head between Remus’ legs, mouth growing wet with spit and slick, and it’s not long before Remus’ fingers are curling in Sirius’ hair, curses spewing from between his lips in a Welsh accent you’ve not heard before. You can’t help but follow them back to the source, kissing Remus just before he cums down Sirius’ throat. He grips you by the arms with something like desperation. You’re happy to stay as the tension unwinds from his body, until his hands are moving down you, smoothing across the skin just above the waistband of your shorts. 

“Are you planning on keeping those on all night?” 

It’s Sirius who asks, his gaze sultry as he watches Remus’ finger skim just underneath the fabric covering your ass. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a thumb. 

“How’s this?” Remus suggests. He pulls you gently into his lap, situating you between his legs with your back against his chest. Again, you can feel the impression of him pressed against your backside. 

Your voice comes out weak. “This is good.” 

He chuckles, soothing a hand down your side while Sirius grins. Sirius’ fingers grasp the elastics of both your shorts and your underwear. “Okay?” he asks you. 

You nod. 

He takes his time working them down your legs and off your ankles, his eyes locking on your exposed cunt and the arousal Remus has coaxed out of you already. Remus, too, is watching over your shoulder. His fingers gravitate back to it, dragging slick up through your folds idly, almost worshipfully. He kisses behind your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re lovely,” says Sirius. 

Both boys’ gazes stay glued to your cunt as Sirius positions himself over you, pushing into your warmth. You bite down on a small sound. Remus tuts at you, his hand spreading reassuringly over your navel. 

“You can do better than that,” he chides. “Don’t think we don’t want to hear you.” 

Sirius holds your hips as he sinks into you. His fingers dent your flesh, and you marvel at the fact that you’ve wasted so much time not doing this. That you’ve ever been in a room with either Remus or Sirius and managed not to kiss them dizzy. You’re not sure you’ll be able to manage it again. 

Remus draws slow, tight circles around your clit with his finger. You arch your neck back onto his shoulder, and Sirius groans as you tighten on him. 

“God—you’re so perfect,” he says hoarsely. “You feel so good.” 

Your reply gets lost on a lewd sound as he drags his cock along your walls. Remus kisses you rewardingly in the soft skin underneath your ear. “There you are,” he says. “Good girl.” 

Warmth unfurls through your gut. 

Sirius grins whatever reaction must show up on your face, his hands migrating to your ass as he thrusts into you. As he gets rougher, so do Remus’ ministrations to your clit, his slow circles turning quick and jagged. You feel yourself tighten on Sirius in little flutters that have him gripping you tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises. 

“Fuck, like that, yeah. Just like that, baby.” 

Your lips part at the pet name and Sirius’ eyes flick up to yours like he’s surprised too, like he’s let slip something he didn’t mean to. But you say, “come here,” and he goes, leaning over you to let you take his face in your hands and kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

Remus feels your high approaching before you do. His free hand smooths over the inside of your twitching thigh. 

“Are you close?” he asks you. 

Sirius parts his lips from yours, looking down to see the confirmation on your face. You give it.

“Good,” he says, picking up his pace, “good, sweetheart, that’s it. Cum for me, yeah? I’ve got you.” 

You nearly bite your lip in half when you do, Remus tsking amusedly and kissing your neck while the tightening of your cunt threatens to send Sirius over the edge as well. He starts to pull out of you, but you grab his hand. 

“It’s okay,” you manage. “In me.” 

“Really?” he asks in a strangled voice. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna feel it.” 

That’s all it takes. Sirius’ expression pinches like you’ve said something cruel as he thrusts into you one last time, a shock that reverberates through you as he warms you from the inside out. He’s rigid for a few seconds before tipping forward, his head to your shoulder and to Remus' chest, which you’ve slipped down without noticing. His breath fans softly over your skin. 

Remus rubs your thigh comfortingly and with his other hand pets down Sirius’ hair, cupping his flushed cheek. “Alright, love?” he asks. 

Sirius’ blush seems to worsen. “Yeah. You?” 

“More than.” Remus kisses his head. 

It’s only after a few seconds of silence that you realize Remus’ question was posed to the both of you. 

“That was…” you shake your head, at a loss “...fantastic.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius nudges his nose into your skin. “I thought so.” 

Remus’ chuckle rumbles through all three of you. “Cocky,” he says fondly. 

“And decent enough with it, by all reports.” 

It starts up a round of sweet, half teasing kisses Sirius pretends to want to escape despite making no real efforts to do so. You give and receive plenty of your own, until not just your lips and shoulders but many other parts of you are wet with spit and slick. You fall asleep all three on a twin mattress on the floor, your head on Remus’ chest and Sirius’ arms wound around your middle. It might be the best sleep you’ve ever had.

[vietcrepes]

◡ ✶ SCHOLARS IN SESSION!

study date headcanons with the sbg kids

◡ ✶ notice board: gn!reader as always, not proof read, established relationship, food mentioned in taylor's part, might be ooc

୨୧ ASHLYN BANNER

she doesn't really care for studying, between phantoms and ballet, studies are one of her last priorities. she'll do the very bare minimum to pass and make good score, but making time out of the day to study more? she'll respectfully pass. there are other ways she'd rather spend time with you, like curled up in bed, or teaching you how to dance.

it's not until it gets to exams that she decides a study date won't be bad, and if it's just the two of you it'll be peaceful. now, studying might not be her favorite thing, but when she studies she's focused, just as she would be in anything else.

you were in ashlyn's living room, her parents providing with plenty of snacks as she listened to music through her headphones. you? absolutely bored out of your mind. you had to analyze this poem and it was your least favorite thing to do in the world. ashlyn felt eyes boring into her head, and met eyes with you. with a sigh, ashlyn moved over to be closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and continuing with her work. "you're the one who wanted to study, at least focus for a bit"

◡ ☆ click to read the rest!

୨୧ AIDEN CLARK

the one time you manage to sit him down to have one of those cute pinterest study dates is the day society reaches its peak

he'll probably be pacing around, playing on his phone, and maybe doing a problem here or there. he's struggling on a problem? he was simply destined to not know the answer. don't take this the wrong way though, he's a brilliant student, really!! once he sees you struggling he'll be explaining the problem flawlessly, like he was the teacher of the class himself

"babe" aiden dragged out, on his phone as he draped his body on top of yours, "we've been here forever, let's go to the arcade" your features softened at the sight of aiden, but you had to stay stubborn. "no, it's only been 15 minutes hun, I need to finish this assignment." you were stuck on the math behind this particular chemistry problem, and it was driving you insane. "oh, you just have to convert the units to moles so you can cancel out the units in the next step" he said, looking up from his phone. "wait what-" you said, realizing he was right. he only beamed, once again asking if you two could go to the arcade. with a sigh, you gave in. after all, who could deny what aiden clark wanted?

୨୧ BEN CLARK

he tries his best to focus, but ultimately he ends up taking a nap halfway through the study date. the combination of schoolwork, classical/lofi music, and the soft sun worked in harmony to have ben doze off. if you play with his hands or hair it'll be the final thing that sends him to sleep. no matter how many times it happens you just can't bring yourself to wake him up

you scribbled in your notebook, listening intently to the history video playing on your laptop. after all, you had a written paper coming up that you needed to study for. your hand was intertwined with Ben's, the both of you sitting at the Clark's kitchen island as you could hear aiden playing video games upstairs. your fingers were intertwined with his, rubbing circles on his hand absentmindedly as your brows furrowed in focus. feeling ben's hand go limp in yours, you glanced over. he was fast asleep, blissfully undisturbed by your upcoming exams. you smiled, and tangled your hand in his hair as you decided against waking him up.

୨୧ TYLER HERNANDEZ

no matter how exhausted he is, he'll always find time for studying. he's driven and knows what he needs to do to achieve his goals, but his priorities can skew, especially after the savannah trip. he unfortunately has other worries, namely you, taylor, and whatever the hell goes on at midnight

it's you who reminds him to refocus on baseball and his studies, and once he does it's like he never lost his focus in the first place. he doesn't like studying for more than 4 hours a day, and usually only studies for around 3. no matter how long he's studying though, one things for certain, he'll always be touching you, whether it be a hand on a thigh or holding hands

tyler stifled a yawn, finishing up his annotations for this english passage as he got ready to write an analysis on the language use. the two of you were on his bunk, you researching for a presentation for another class. your head was rested on his shoulder, rambling on about how one of your group mates simply refused to do their part for the project. he listened intently, chiming in with the occasional "what an asshole" or even a "snitch on them." when your tangent was done, you went back to a comfortable silence with you typing away and tyler slouched over, writing away.

୨୧ TAYLOR HERNANDEZ

taylor is the perfect study date, point blank period. she's just as driven and zoned in as her brother but she's light hearted and doesn't make studying feel like a chore. she'll bring plenty of snacks and ask plenty of questions

while her questions are greatly appreciated, they can tend to stray off topic from your studies. in fact, most of the time they result in you two talking about issues entirely unrelated. before you knew it, piles of unfinished homework was before you and two hours had been spent talking.

taylor spun her pencil around, doodling on her science worksheet as she laid down on her stomach, swinging her feet in the air. she had finished a good portion of her work, but she had kept the hardest subjects for last. you were taking a break, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as a much-needed refresher. taylor, now uninterested in working, propped her chin up with her hand as she asked, "want to look at my welding projects?" upon hearing your laughter, she quickly sat up, "it'll be a nice break! we'll still study afterwards!" she defended, steadfast in her beliefs. you gave in, and an hour later you weren't even focused on welding, but rather something else entirely.

୨୧ LOGAN FIELDS

i feel like logan prefers studying the subjects he's good at on his own — he'll get into the flow of the equations and rules of the world that he'll be in his own little bubble.

of course, you are the exception to this. he loves doing anything if it's with you. he's willing to help you but you try not to rely on him too much, you won't be able to retain the information if you don't struggle through yourself after all. despite this, he'll go out of his way and help you if he sees you stuck on the same problem after too much time

logan glanced over at you, chewing on your bottom lip as you furrowed your eyebrows at the paper. he smiled, placing a hand on your back as he leaned in. he smelled flowery, an obvious side effect of working at the flower shop. you leaned on his shoulder, complaining about the problem and the class. "it's simple, you just need to look at it from another angle." he said, picking up your pencil before explaining in detail

writers note: it's my biggest fear... headcanons. this is just something indulgent and short n sweet 🙂‍↕️ ashlyns feels so ooc and poorly written I am so sorry ashlyn lovers.

[kazuhahalol]

▹ Kurapika general headcanons! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

my general headcanons for everyone’s favorite blonde haired chain bastard (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

trigger warnings: None

Disclaimer: Everyone is welcome on my page and I will not turn you away. However, it is your fault if you’re uncomfortable or peeved with my writing because I give multiple warnings prior to my content. thanks!

❥ Kurapika would NOT wear a dress. Have you seen the 1999 promotional art? This man was in khakis, jeans, and button up flannels 80% of the time. I feel like if you were to ever ask him to wear one, he would get annoyed or offended. He’s already been misgendered before and shows distaste about it in Jump Force, so I doubt he would ever willingly wear a dress.

❥ Touch starved. This one is pretty obvious since he’s been alone for years, all alone with no one to turn to.

❥ Struggles to speak English. In the manga, he states it’s hard to pronounce some English words and I could only guess it’s hard for him to have adapted on the black whale.

❥ If Kurapika were to be any sexuality, IMO, he would be asexual. I get he and Leorio have chemistry somewhat, but he seems more asexual than anything else. “He would have a breeding kink!” This man debuted at 17 years old and has shown severe signs of depression. I think that would be the last thing he’s thinking about.

❥ He would NEVER place his chains on you. He would never use the chains on you in any way, sexual or not. You, his lover, getting wrapped up in the same chains he’s used to kill the people that slaughtered his entire clan? I think not.

❥ He loves you, but revenge will always come first whether you like it or not. Oh, your date the two of you scheduled a week prior? Cancelled because he found a lick of information on where the scarlet eyes or phantom troupe is posted. Your anniversary? He would remember, but wouldn’t bother coming out to see you if he was in the middle of tracking down where the troupe lays. He’d send you a text if you’re lucky.

❥ Romance lover. He was reading a romance novel on the train in 1999, and I once saw someone say he likes reading the romance genre because he knows he’s going to die before he ever gets to find the love of his life, and I agreed.

❥ Isolates himself from you and the others because he doesn’t want to feel even worse if he loses you guys as well.

❥ Blames himself for not being there when his clan needed him the most.

❥ Listener, never the yapper; although unless it’s about his plans for revenge. You’re talking about the deadliest insect spiders in the world and all of a sudden he spirals into how he’s going to capture the entire troupe and slaughter them.

❥ Slowly forgetting his native language.

❥ Hates when his job lets him go on holiday. “Spend time with your loved ones” and he goes to the basement or wtv where the scarlet eyes are.

❥ Cat person.

[jarofstyles]

Teenage Dirtbag 5

Here we go again! I decided to bring back Fratrry in the rotation. For those of you who didn’t read them yet (or forgot) check out the series masterlist. These updates are shorter so I can get them out somewhat frequently instead of making you wait hehe.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings

Teenage Dirtbag Masterlist

WC- 1.5k

Warnings- asshole H, angst, Y/N putting him in his place as usual

----

Harry knew he should be a bit more cautious when it came to Y/N but… god, how could he not try and push the envelope if it meant her maybe giving into it again? 

The reality of it was that Y/N, a girl who hated his guys most likely, had been the best fuck he’d ever had. She had blown his mind in the literal and metaphorical sense, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fate had a funny way of working, sure, but he couldn’t be too mad considering he knew their chemistry was too good to push away completely. 

H: what do ya want from the cafe, baby doll? 

Y/N: nothing that you’ve touched. 

Harry smirked at his phone. So predictable, already back with the snarky responses. It worked him up a bit, thinking about how this snarky girl had pleaded for more, kissed him sloppily as his balls smacked against her ass and dragged her nails down his scalp. Such a sweet thing for him that night had gone right to being sour as soon as she left. 

H: ok, so you want me to lick your cake pop. Got it. 

H: it isn’t like we haven’t shared saliva before ;) 

Y/N: yeah, lick on it and then choke . Let me know how that goes so I can cancel our session this afternoon. 

The hope was to bring the sessions here one day. As much as Y/N had disdain towards him, the sparks had flown during sex. She had loved it just as much as he did- he’ll, during their last round she had pushed him on the bed and rode his cock until he was sensitive, her nail marks left on his chest for days. 

H: I’ve got something else you can choke on, baby

Y/N: I will quite literally not show up today, your grades be damned. 

His lips puffed in a pout. He was pushing it, but it was so fun to rile her up. Eventually, he hoped she would give in and like him. See the fun parts of him like other people did- but for now, he would play this game. Cat and mouse… though he wasn’t quite sure which one he was. 

H: fineeee. I’ll be good. 

For now. 

Y/N: please do. It was a mistake and we don’t need to keep bringing it up. 

It was a mistake he very much wanted to repeat, over and over again. 

H: yes, maam. I’ll see you at 2 🫡

Y/N: don’t be late, I’m serious. I have something afterwards and I can’t be late 

H: oooo, a hot date? 

Y/N: yes, actually. So don’t fuck this up or you aren’t getting your full hour. 

His smirk quickly fell. 

She was going on a date? With fucking who? 

That wasn’t in his plans. For some reason, guiltily, he hadn’t anticipated the idea of someone else making a move on the girl he wanted to fuck. Let alone her accepting. She seemed like such an ice queen with him that it led him to forget just how sweet she was to literally everyone else.

It was slightly infuriating, how everyone had nothing but good things to say about her. She was nice and she helped out this person when they moved, she helped plan this persons birthday party, she spotted this person 5 when they went to get coffee… there was no denying everyone else got the sweet parts while all the sourness was reserved for him. 

And yet, he still pushed her. Still played this game and taunted her because how the fuck else was he supposed to get her attention? He was going to have to kick it up a notch.  

——

“Who’s the date with?” He asked in the middle of their session, ignoring the paper in front of him as he looked at her. She was way more dressed up than he’d seen her at a tutoring meet before, a little skirt that brushed her thighs and a little button up tucked into it giving it a sweet but sexy combination that made him a little twitchy. 

In all honesty it had been hard to focus since he seen her today. All he could think about was how those pretty lips had been bitten and swollen from his kisses, how they’d curled around his name so fucking sweetly that it had his cock stirring at the memory. Her perfume was seemingly freshly applied and it was interfering with his brain chemistry or something, because all he wanted to do was throw the books to the side and pull her up to straddle his lap. 

He imagined her hands knocking off his SnapBack, tangling in his hair as she rode his cock right in the secluded part of the library. His hands under her skirt and gripping her plush ass yet again, unbuttoning that little shirt and leaving more marks on her skin. 

Marks he caught a glimpse of as she suddenly looked up at him. 

“His name is Derek.” She cleared her throat. “He asked me out on Monday so I decided to say yes. He’s really nice.” For some reason she looked embarrassed by the information she had divulged, like she hadn’t meant to say all of that. 

That sneaky little minx. 

“Uh huh…” he let his eyes linger on the bruising that was fading but not quite covered by the collar of her shirt. “And what is Derek going to think of this pretty little thing?” 

It was gentle, his knuckle lightly brushing over the mark he remembered sucking during the first round. He knew he had caused some nice little lovebites but that one was still healing, so it was probably a dark one. Fuck, it probably looked hot as fuck when it was first developing. “Suits you, y’know. My marks on your skin. I could put some more there, If you want.” 

He was pushing it and he knew it, getting closer to her as his nose brushed her cheek. She wasn’t pushing him away, so he counted that as a good sign. “I could take you back to my place and I could give you quite a few more. A refresher course because… I highly doubt this guy is gonna be able to make you squirt all over his dick. Which you did with me, twice.” He hummed, letting his fingers fall a bit deeper down the collar of her shirt. “I don’t think he’s going to give you what you need, princess. We already did it once and so we’ll… it would just make sense to do it again. I think we have gotten well enough acquainted that I could do the job.”

He hadn’t seen the cold drink coming. Poured all over his lap and seeping through his shorts, he yelped as the icy liquid  hit his skin. “Oi! What the fuck?” 

“I told you, last time was a one and done for this particular reason, Styles.” She snarled, grabbing her books and hurrying to shove them into her bag. “Because you’d be a fucking pig and see me as a sex object instead of a human being. I’m not some fucking challenge, I’m a girl with feelings and I- I told you, I wasn’t doing it again and it meant it!” 

“Babe- no, I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I’d never say that shit.” He tried to fight, unsure how it had gone south so fast. Apparently, he was shit at reading her cues. Worse than he originally thought. 

“You don’t have to say it. You suggest it. You don’t respect what I say. This is why I was never going to go and do anything with you. Who gives a fuck how hot you are if you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t get his head out of his own ass to see exactly why people don’t like you.” Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she scowled at him. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll find you another tutor. I can deal with your stupid flirting, but throwing what we did in my face? Absolutely the fuck not.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to defend himself, feeling incredibly confused as she ran off. Any call of her name went ignored, the librarian hushing him as he made his way out of the doors but it was too late. She was god knows where. 

Who knew those legs could run so fast?

He was a little pissed that she was assuming he thought of her as some sort of object. He didn’t mean to make her feel any sort of way about it all, not thinking he was throwing it in her face, but apparently she thought so. 

H: Y/N can you please come back???

H: I didn’t mean to upset you 

H: I know I can be a dick and that’s part of our thing but I never thought of you as a sex object and I never would 

H: I didn’t think I was throwing it in your face 

H: can you answer me please????

H: I don’t want a new tutor, I want you :( 

H: y/n, cmon 

H: alright, I’ll try again tomorrow. But we need to talk. Please.

[joeliz99]

MET GALA- Joe Keery

Description: (Y/N) navigates her first MET Gala with Joe by her side. After the glamorous event, they both share a tender moment alone.

Warnings: None, Fluff, Established relationship

Word count: 1314

_____________________________________________

For the first time ever, (Y/N) was invited to the Met Gala, donning an exquisite creation by Gaurav Gupta. It was the most elaborate and breathtaking outfit she had ever worn.

Relatively new to the public eye and experiencing this level of recognition, (Y/N) was both thrilled and petrified about what the night would bring. After all, being one of the few Latinxs at this exclusive event only added to the significance of the evening.

Joe, who had been on the verge of canceling due to a Heineken promo deal for the F1 races, managed to make it work. She had also been there as his plus one, so they both traveled from Miami to New York on separate days to beat the tight schedule.

While (Y/N) and Joe prepared in different rooms—given the numerous people involved in perfecting (Y/N)’s look—the moment of transformation was nothing short of magical. When she finally saw her reflection, she was left speechless, her heart racing at the sight of her stunning appearance. This transformative moment was captured for later promotional content on social media.

After expressing heartfelt thanks to the designer, Joe knocked on the door. His reaction was probably the highlight of her evening. Overwhelmed with awe, he struggled to find the right words, simply gazing in wonder at all the details of (Y/N)’s look. He hesitated to touch (Y/N), as if afraid to disturb the perfection before him.

“I’m absolutely floored,” Joe finally said, his smile lighting up the room. He took (Y/N)’s hand, his eyes never leaving theirs. “You’re going to be the star of the night, baby. You guys nailed it!”

They shared a few more quiet moments together, savoring the intimacy before heading out. As they approached the Met Gala, the swarm of paparazzi was already buzzing with anticipation.

In the quiet of the car before arriving, (Y/N) leaned in close to Joe. “I feel like I’m going to burst from nerves. Can you feel my heartbeat?” (Y/N) whispered, guiding Joe’s hand to her chest.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing,” Joe replied softly, pressing a reassuring kiss to (Y/N)’s cheek. “Just be yourself and enjoy every moment. Remember, this is your night. I’m right here behind you if you need me. You’ve got this.” (Y/N) nodded, sighing in relief, and gave him a tender peck on the lips. He returned the kiss as the car came to a stop. “Let’s do this,” he said with a grin.

The initial moments at the gala were as overwhelming as expected. With a team directing (Y/N) on where to go, who to talk to, and when to pose, she began to feel more at ease. The girl's charisma started to shine through as she smiled, waved, posed, and engaged in conversations about her projects, taking every opportunity to express gratitude for the chance to be part of such a special night.

Joe, as promised, stayed a few steps behind, allowing (Y/N) to bask in the spotlight while enjoying the evening himself. They did, however, carve out a few moments for themselves amidst the festivities.

In one particularly charming moment, Joe pulled (Y/N) close for a photo. With his arm wrapped securely around (Y/N)’s waist, he leaned in and whispered, “I could spend the entire night just admiring you.” The chemistry between them was palpable in every photo, their connection evident to everyone present. As they approached the final interviews, reporters turned their attention to the couple.

“Let me start by saying, Joeliz, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” (Y/N) replied, her face lighting up with a genuine smile. “I really appreciate that.”

“So, this is your first time attending the gala together, right? How are you feeling?”

“It’s honestly surreal,” Joe said, his hand resting gently on (Y/N)’s waist. “We’re beyond excited to be here and surrounded by such incredible people.”

“Let’s talk about you two,” a reporter said with a grin. “We’re all thrilled to see you together tonight. Is this your first event as a couple?”

“It is, sort of,” (Y/N) chuckled softly. “There’s no one else I’d rather share this moment with than my husband.”

The reporters' eyes widened in surprise at this revelation. The fact that (Y/N) and Joe had been married for two years and had kept their relationship a secret until now was unexpected to many.

After a few more questions, they bid their farewells and headed to the official dinner. The dinner was pleasant but lacked excitement, so after it they decided to make a quick detour to their hotel for a change into more comfortable after-party outfits.

The after-party was in full swing, with upbeat music and lively chatter filling the room. The venue was beautifully decorated, and the crowd was a mix of high-profile artists and industry insiders.

Joe and (Y/N) were on the dance floor, surrounded by a sea of people. Joe, ever the social butterfly, was effortlessly moving through the crowd, introducing (Y/N) to various guests. The atmosphere was electric, but Joe kept glancing over to ensure (Y/N) was comfortable and enjoying herself.

With a mischievous grin, he gently tugged her away from a particularly enthusiastic conversation. “Come dance with me. I think it’s time for a little break from the mingling.”

(Y/N) smiled, allowing Joe to lead her to a quieter corner of the dance floor where the music was softer and more intimate. As they began to sway to the rhythm, (Y/N) rested her head on Joe’s shoulder, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

After a few songs, Joe excused himself to fetch some drinks. He soon returned and, having heard from others that the rooftop area was also available, decided it was the perfect place for a more private escape.

He guided (Y/N) through the bustling party and toward a discreet stairway. They climbed up to the rooftop, where the city lights stretched out below them, and the night sky was clear and serene. The rooftop was a tranquil haven, adorned with cozy seating areas lit by soft, twinkling string lights.

“Welcome to our little escape,” Joe said as he led (Y/N) to a comfortable couch set against the backdrop of the shimmering cityscape. He gestured to the inviting seating area. “I thought we could use a moment away from all the chaos.”

As they settled onto the couch, (Y/N) lay back against Joe’s chest, feeling the strength of his embrace. The quietude of the rooftop was a stark contrast to the party’s energetic buzz, allowing them to fully enjoy the serenity of their private retreat.

“I know it’s been a whirlwind tonight,” Joe murmured, his lips brushing against (Y/N)’s ear. “But I just wanted to say how proud I am of you. You’ve been incredible.”

(Y/N) sighed contentedly, resting her head on Joe’s shoulder. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you. Tonight has been magical.”

Turning slightly, (Y/N) faced Joe, their hearts beating faster as their lips met. The kiss was both sweet and passionate, a perfect blend of tenderness and desire. After a moment, Joe pulled back, looking into (Y/N)’s eyes with a warm smile. He reached for the champagne glasses they had brought up, handing one to her. They clinked glasses, enjoying the bubbles and the calm atmosphere.

“Here’s to many more nights like this,” Joe said softly, his gaze warm and loving.

Smiling, (Y/N) snuggled closer. “Here’s to us.”

As the night wore on, they reluctantly left their rooftop retreat, their hearts full and their spirits high. They returned to their hotel, eager to unwind and reflect on the unforgettable evening before heading home the next day.

[mulderscully]

i've seen people talking about how drastic the change between cooper and audrey's relationship in s2 is and realize people don't know the lore.

regardless of how you feel about their relationship, the intention that the writers had in s2 was for cooper to fall in love with audrey. eventually this was going to lead to an affair. they have said this multiple times. aside from who killed laura palmer, their most popular storyline was cooper/audrey and when abc pressured lynch and frost to reveal the killer early (which lead to the show's cancellation) they planned to lean on anticipation of the storyline to get them viewership. mark frost has said that they planned on five seasons for twin peaks.

in 1990 kyle maclachlan was dating lara flynn boyle who plays donna hayward, lara became upset that kyle had so much chemistry with sherilyn fenn (who was 25 in real life) so their entire relationship is axed. not only any romantic scenes, but ALL their scenes. after 2x12 kyle and sherilyn never share any direct scenes together. kyle did share that he felt cooper would not have a relationship with 18 year old audrey which i agree with but then they come in and essentially recast heather graham to play a 20 NUN, barely older than audrey herself, to be his love interest in audrey's place. everything that happened with annie at the end of s2 is a placeholder for audrey. and i'm certain it's why we do not see annie in the return but come to find that audrey has been in a somewhat similar situation to cooper for 25 years. it's fascinating to say people say they don't ship cooper and audrey because of the age gap - a very valid squick - but still like their relationship and miss it when it's gone. it shows how their dynamic was embedded into the show and it does say something about dale cooper as a character that this was the original storyline.

it shows how much a network like abc cut what david lynch and mark frost were trying to say at the knees and how cutting off two strong storylines bc of behind the scenes stuff and what execs think audiences want really harms a show as popular as twin peaks can be it's demise. if they hadn't pressured david lynch to reveal the killer early, then they could have carried that on to at least season 3 and do the timejump they planned and who knows how differently we would remember twin peaks now.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Today, on OFMD's birthday, I'm just so grateful again that the people involved in making our show gave a shit.

It would've been so, SO easy for OFMD to just be another bland historical comedy. They didn't have to tackle the big ideas they did about toxic masculinity. They didn't have to make it explicitly, joyfully queer. They didn't have to give a shit.

Hell, if OFMD had been another forgettable historical show, it probably would've done just fine. Honestly, considering everything, that version of the show might very well have coasted right by two easy renewals and be preparing for a season 3 release right now. And a few people on the team might've cared; the episodes might have been shot in interesting ways or there might have been cool costumes or a few actors might've been standouts.

But no. Everyone involved in the making of OFMD on every single level poured their heart and soul into it, and you can fucking tell. Every costume is well-thought-through and gorgeous. The set design is so fucking phenomenal I can hardly believe it; there are new background details I'm noticing after probably hundreds of rewatches. The choice for the songs included is the best I've ever seen in a TV show, they put so much thought into making the music feel like extensions of the script. The writing is tight and clever. Every actor is giving it all they've got, and Rhys Darby and Taika Waititi as our leads do an incredible job, their real-life friendship bringing a very natural chemistry and both of them saying that being able to be there for each other helped them during vulnerable scenes. And no one had to go this hard, but everyone cared about making this show the best it could possibly be.

That's not even to mention how we, the fandom, give a shit! Three years since our show aired and almost one year since the final cancelation, and we just raised over 85k for charity. We're not as active as we were while the show was airing, sure, but we're steady and consistent, with so much fanfic and fanart to see every day. I've made friends who I'm so grateful for through this fandom. We all care so much, about our show and each other.

I'm so glad everyone involved with OFMD, from the writers and cast and crew to us, gives a shit. Happy birthday, OFMD.

[simonisferal]

not you again "scaramouche x male reader"

episode two — a man can't punch another man without it seeming homosexual nowadays, can he? 📖

warnings: violence, vulgar language, threats, homophobia?, food play if you think about it, (some) sexual tension/implications

notes: your hand slipped :( 1.3k words

The courtyard was often crowded with students, some eating lunch or studying during their breaks or some skipping their classes and horsing around.

You were waiting on Tartaglia who said he'd be there and cancelled his afternoon wrestling practice to be there. It was terrifying how he managed to remember everything but chemistry-related things. Your food was also getting cold with every passing minute you didn't see a ginger.

Your phone lit up multiple times and you chose to ignore it. No way someone was actually talking about you behind your back, right? Maybe after you tweeted that but no way, right? You sigh, maybe you shouldn't do irrational things now that you're a senior...

Your chin meets your palm as your elbow presses against the wooden bench's warm table.

Ajax wasn't coming any time soon so why not eat? You lift up a spoonful of food to your lips, opening your mouth slightly to eat it.

But, it never happened. Instead it fell onto the grass. And you felt a slap to your face.

(Scaramouche wasn't one for violence. He'd rather mentally or psychologically torture his opponents as they either move away with their parents or just grovel under his feet to get away from his constant degrading. But that never happened with you.

You didn't beg for his any of his attention like his usual fans and admirers, you could barely admit he was attractive! Not like he cared but seeing someone's eyes not on him... it kinda hurt.

But, it's fine! Nothing a little rivalry couldn't fix, right?)

You freeze, feeling the hot sting on your cheek burn by the second. That shadow that managed to hover over you was unfortunately familiar. He can't seem to leave you alone huh?

Your fingers carefully glaze against your cheek, brushing against and past the red mark Scaramouche had clearly left on your face. Your day was going so well too... You look up at him from sitting on the bench as he leaned on the table, as if looking for your reaction. He had a smirk painted on his lips that you couldn't wait to wipe off his face.

You only realized that yes, he did just slap you purposefully, and yes, other people are watching. I'm rational, you tell yourself.

"And who are you?"

His smirk widened and you swore he was actually a bitch. You noticed the little crowd forming around you two, students standing up from their seats to watch, others coming close to you to hear the conversation, and even some of them began filming. You didn't ignore Scaramouche's quick glance to the crowd, like he was waiting to act out a little performance.

He looked back at you, confidently. "You know who I am. Don't be dumb Y/N." He was somewhat joking. He already thought you were dumb. You loathed him.

"Yeah, sure, anyways! To what do I owe the pleasure? You know, besides already being subjected to your little torture methods?" You glare. Your food had begin to lose its warmth as you ignored it, sitting like a holy grail right in front of you.

You weren't cracking like he thought would happen. You always manage to be a few steps ahead, not any long stride but tiny, small tip-toes around his theories and plans. But not this time. Not under his watch.

"No, I'm actually starving!" He pouts like a child and leans even closer. He eyes your food carefully, a bowl of spaghetti with some red 40 as tomato sauce. "Do you think you'd give me some?"

Before you can even respond to his ridiculous request, Scaramouche is already a step ahead of you. Gripping his hands around the pasta, he smears it on your face, leaving a big stain on your shirt and tomato sauce everywhere.

The people watching let out laughs and silent gasps as they watch everything unfold. To say you were pissed was an understatement. To add fuel to the fire, you watch as he drags his finger across your face to get some sauce on his finger and lick it off clean right in front of you. The smirk on his face said it all.

"Not bad. Not bad at all." You weren't really sure what the fuck he was talking about but it seemed like someone else didn't either as you heard students watching move aside to let someone pass. Tartaglia.

"Scara, what the fuck are you doing?! Get your nasty hands off him." Ajax pushed him away from you, his bigger frame protecting you from Scaramouche's. Yanfei comes up from behind you, handing you napkins to clean the sauce off your face.

Even teachers began watching but it's not like they were gonna do anything. One reason you hated Scaramouche so badly was because his mother managed to scare anyone who got into her son's way, including adults. It was unfair, especially to the people who work hard!

Scaramouche smirked, standing up straight from the bench to see Tartaglia eye to eye. "Aww, is the little fa—"

Ajax stops him before he finishes that word. It wasn't necessarily a secret, most people already knew he had a boyfriend but using it as a insult is just fucking rude. "Don't you fucking dare."

"And why not, Ajax? Scared your little boyfriend'll hide his tail in between his legs and scurry? I sure would." Scaramouche crossed his arms. Tartaglia paused, attempting to calm himself down but to no avail. His fist ball up and Yanfei tries rubbing his shoulder in sympathy.

It was scary honestly. Seeing someone so happy and easy-going as Tartaglia so mad and anxious. You didn't ignore the way his hands trembled nor the way his eyes had began teary. If Yanfei had taught you anything about this school was that playing fair never works. You have to get your hands dirty.

You stand up from the bench, gently rubbing Tartaglia's shoulder. You lean into his ear and whisper, "Let me handle this, okay? I got it from here." He didn't bother looking up at you when you signaled Yanfei to take him away carefully.

She did so, glancing back at you as she and Ajax walked further into the crowd and away from Scaramouche.

You still had some sauce on your face, wiping it off of your face with your thumb and balling your fist. He noticed this. "What's wrong? Cat got yo—"

As usual, being interrupted for the plot! You don't hesitate to just fucking punch his ugly ass face before he finished whatever metaphor, idiom, onomatopoeia thing he had going on.

The crowd surrounds you two as they start chanting to fight. Scaramouche recoils back, holding his nose in his hand as velvet blood ran down his hand and dripped down on to the grass. "Bitch," he muttered, wiping his nose and ignoring the pain.

"You're gonna pay for that."

Like he mentioned previously, you are indeed not paying for that. Some blue-haired girl, Xingqui, and some teachers had to pull you off of Scaramouche as you pinned him to the ground. "Fucking asshole!" You attempt to land another punch but miss as you get dragged away from the bastard you were plotting to kill.

Everyone groaned as you got dragged away (probably to the principal's office for causing a ruckus), sad that there wasn't anything entertaining to watch anymore.

Mona and Kazuha ran up to Scaramouche who was lying on the grass, nose broken and maybe some ribs and his throat bruised. "You idiot! What were you thinking?!"

Scaramouche closes his eyes and sighs. "Shut it. I need a favor." As the crowd disperse back to their original duties, Kazuha raises an eyebrow. "What for?"

"I... need new pants."

masterlist — prev — next

taglist: open! bold means i can't tag you

beginning with... @mizumetamorphosis , @wawanluvr , @shutingstar , @pookiemax , @chemiru , @scaradooche , @swivy123 , @yangbbokari , @academiq , @thystarsshine , @zoropookie , @notrsz , @justyoureader , @mercy-not-merci , @kiekole , @kazumiku

(@simonisferal 2024)

[shegatsby]

Hi I'm not sure if you're taking requests if not then please completely ignore this

If you are I was wondering how you think Hannibal Lecter might propose to his female s/o?

No Warnings!

A/N;Hi guys, hope you're having a great day. Enjoy this short imagine. Love you all.

Hannibal planned this trip  a year ago and  he scheduled everything  according to it. His patients, his work with the FBI. He seemed extra prepared for this trip which made you question him. You knew his character, he was always ready for anything but this time was different.

Analyzing people rubbed off on you from him, you’ve been together for 3 years now and living together for 2 years and obviously some of his personality traits made their way to you. You weren’t sure whether  you had affected him the way he did but this last year he was more settled and sometimes carefree. Of course those occasions were pretty rare, but it was fun to see him opening another bottle of wine after being tipsy or cancelling his work just for a get away with you.

When he made the last phone call about his work he was free. ‘’We won’t be bothered anymore, my love.’’ He kissed your temple and together you left your shared home to catch the flight.

Weather in Italy, Portofino was something you needed. Baltimore was too cold for you. He rented a villa up the hills, overlooking the entire town, sea, forests, buildings. The view made you feel you belong to Portofino, maybe one day you’ll live here with him.

You were on the balcony, being in awe of the sight before you while Hannibal was being in awe of you, he hugged you from behind, kissed the tip of your ear. You giggled like a child, he loved that about you, admired your nurturing, yet, carefree spirit. He was aware that together you were in the perfect balance.

Hi hands went to your stomach, he imagined you carrying his child. Before you, he never imagined having someone in his life, of course he had some people that he saw time to time bur being in a committed relationship was something he never dared to dream. The sun was setting, he made you turned and looked at his deep maroon eyes.

He planned everything and it was time,

‘’My dearest, 3 years ago today was the first time that I saw you. You were drinking your coffee, just the way you like, and reading your book.’’

You smiled, you were reading ‘’A Philosophy of Walking’’ by Frédéric Gros, he made a comment about it, thus, you started talking about great philosophers for 2 maybe 3 hours.

‘’But we were so caught off guard by our instant chemistry that you left without bestowing me nothing but your elegant name. Thanks to my connections with the FBI, I found you.’’

You remembered the big bouquet of flowers on your work desk after a day, how scared you were…

Soon you’ve come to realize that Hannibal Lecter, even though he was the epitome of the modern gentlemen, deep down he was a hunter. He lived to chase and catch, you gave him a chase which was worth the ride.

‘’I never want to let you go, what we have is real.’’ He let go of your hands to get a ring from his pocket. You could feel the tears of happiness forming, ‘’Be mine. Forever.’’ You kissed his lips, ‘’Yes,’’ you whispered, ‘’forever.’’

Thank you for reading. :)

[thepetitepiper]

For anyone who think that Garak x Bashir in Lower Decks is "fan-service," "sickening," or "ruining Star Trek", have you been paying attention?

Note this is not for those who aren't a fan of the couple or never saw it in DS9. This is for those who are actively complaining or find it "problematic".

To the complaints about fan service, have you SEEN Lower Decks? Lower Decks is filled with Easter eggs and fan service, but not just to appease or cater to the fans. It is evident that the show is made with love and understanding of Star Trek. Sure, it has a different tone and style, but the adoration of all things Star Trek is palpable. The amount of references made to various forms of Star Trek media, even lesser-known or less popular versions, is extensive and weaved humorously yet beautifully through the show.

"Fissure Quest" is another excellent example with Jolene's return as T'Pol, Alfre Woodard as Lily Sloane, more Curzon Dax, another EMH with a mobile emitter, promoted Harry Kim (Garrett Wang), etc. Also note that some of these actors had negative or frustrating experiences with aspects of their Star Trek journey (due to a previous show-runner) and I have such an appreciation for Lower Decks giving them, hopefully, a positive experience (similar to Jerry Ryan getting another opportunity to play 7 of 9 in Picard without Kate).

As for the complaint of making a fan favorite ship canon for the shippers. Did you not watch DS9? The actors have specifically stated they were playing up the flirtations and chemistry between the characters. Andrew J. Robinson played Garrat's first meeting with Bashir as "he was sexually attracted to this good-looking young Starfleet doctor." This ship was not just fans "seeing something that wasn't there." It was 100% there and intentional from both of the actors. Even one of the writers admitted that the character or Garak specifically should have come out of the closet after the episode "The Wire" but the writers never asked if they could (the assumption being that it would have been quickly shot down so they didn't try).

Rumor has it that the questionable relationships that both characters end up in were to distract from the obvious homoerotic subtext. Garak and Ziyal not only had little chemistry, the age gap was also rather wide and disconcerting for many fans along with Robinson himself. As for Bashir and Ezri, they were put together in the final season after Ezri's character was created to replace Jadzia. This relationship would never had happened if Terry Farrell (Jadzia Dax) hadn't left the show after season 6. She wanted to reduce her role on the show but Rick Berman denied her request leading to her letting the contract expire.

If you think this is "ruining Star Trek" or is Star Trek becoming "woke," you don't know Star Trek. It featured the first interracial kiss on television. Gene Roddenberry wanted to include gay characters but couldn't in TOS because he feared the series would be canceled. He intended for there to be representation in TNG but passed away. Berman took over and any form of LGBT representation became minimal or easily written off by those who would oppose it (non-binary but played by a woman, previously a heterosexual couple but now in female bodies, thematically queer episode, etc).

If you find it "sickening", I don't need to tell you why. You know why and so do we.

You don't have to like Star Trek: Lower Decks and its depiction of Garak x Bashir (from alternate universes, mind you). Not everyone likes the characters together and some prefer a friendship dynamic, there's nothing wrong with that. However, if you think that it is somehow catering to shippers or demonstrates how Star Trek has "become woke", you are simply wrong.

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 29 - Music

John woke, alone, in Sherlock’s bed, momentarily confused by the situation and then the memory of last night came back in a flurry. They had kissed, and then kissed some more and… well, one thing had led to some more very nice things and Sherlock had demanded John stay close. And John had no problem obliging, now that he knew he wasn’t imagining things. Now that he knew Sherlock felt the same. 

He could hear Sherlock playing his violin out in the lounge. Music filled the apartment. It sounded much happier than his usual mournful music. Hopefully, it was good thinking music, and not regret-filled music. Or “I wish John would go back to his own bed” music.

John got up and pulled his T-shirt on with his boxers, wandering down the hall to find out. Sherlock turned and smiled, a beautiful, content smile at John and stopped playing. John sighed with relief and moved closer to place a kiss to those lips again and Sherlock was very happy to receive it. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be heading to the train?” John asked.

“I cancelled.”

“Oh, Sherlock. No—“

“It’s fine John, it’s already done,” Sherlock said, with a little wave of his hand. 

“But you should—“

“It’s done,” Sherlock said firmly.

“I’ve come along before. And they did invite me. Did you want me to—“

Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head. “Mycroft would know the second he saw us and there is no way I’m giving him a shot at spoiling this in the first twenty-four hours,” he sighed.

John had to admit he agreed with the assessment, although he felt terrible that Sherlock now wouldn’t go and see his family at Christmas, as originally planned. He opened his mouth to argue.

“Nope. You’re stuck with me today, I’m afraid,” Sherlock said, with a twinkle in his eye. He put his violin down and pulled John in closer.

John smiled back at him. “Oh dear whatever shall we do?” he asked, suggestively. 

Sherlock couldn’t help chuckling, deep in his chest. “I can think of a few things.”

God, that sound was incredible.

“If any of them involve dead bodies, I’m going to your parents’ house without you,” John scoffed.

“Not a chance,” Sherlock said, pulling John close to kiss him. 

The very best surprise of this whole thing, had been that, aside from having an incredible chemistry with each other, and experiencing the excitement of realising they felt the same way about each other, the reality was that Sherlock was still very much Sherlock. And John could just be John. It was like this physical addition to their relationship was simply an extension of what they had already built together. Sherlock Holmes kissed like a bloody expert, and John had the confidence and swagger required to lead someone as head strong as Sherlock, who simultaneously lacked some experience, sexually. But all in all, when they were together, it was as if they had been a couple all along and this was just simply an extension of things. John could finally understand what everyone had seen between them, because it was absolutely there, and had always been there. They had just finally lifted a curtain that had hidden some information. Sherlock and John were still very much Sherlock and John, just a little friskier. And that, was a huge relief to John. 

“I’m going to make some tea,” he sighed happily, reluctantly removing himself from Sherlock’s arms to walk to the kitchen.

“Yoo-hoo!”

“Hudders!” Sherlock cried out, enthusiastically. 

“I thought I’d just invite you both down for a spot of Christmas lunch this afternoon. I know we’d spoken about it briefly, John, but I thought I’d formally invite you. We can celebrate the good news,” she said.

“Good news?” John asked, walking out of the kitchen to see her.

“You two finally getting yourselves sorted,” she said with a wink.

“Mrs Hudson how…?” John asked.

“How soundproof do you think these apartments are, dear?” she simply stated, with a look that made John blush profusely. “No need to be embarrassed. I’ve lived. It doesn't bother me. I’m just pleased. And if I know this one he will want to avoid the family and hole up here with you alone now,” she said, of Sherlock. “But you’ll need your sustenance too, and I have a roast beef that is too big for me.”

John closed his eyes, trying to adjust to the idea of Mrs Hudson listening in. “Well... thank you,” he managed to say.

“One P.M., don’t be late,” she said, and already started walking out of the apartment.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sherlock said, from the side of the room.

“Well that was embarrassing,” John said, planted to the spot with humiliation. 

Sherlock smiled and moved over to him to kiss him again, to reassure him. “I think it’s perfect. Everything feels just right.”

John looked up at his detective and smiled back. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Sherlock agreed.

“Right then. Tea?” John asked brightly.

“Please,” Sherlock replied, giving him one more kiss before he let go.

“Done. Now go back to your music. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I hope it was happy thoughts inspiring your playing?” he asked a little nervously. 

“The very best, John,” he simply said. He returned to his violin and this time he played the Bach that John liked while their tea was being made.

As John stood in the kitchen he smiled to himself, remembering last night. He felt sure that this thing with Sherlock was all he needed. All he wanted. But he had felt that way once before and been very wrong and suddenly his stomach started to churn. What if they did this thing and it went sour? What if they weren’t actually suited to one another and then he would have spectacularly miscalculated and not only lost a partner but lost his best friend and a roof over his head. Was he being reckless by jumping into this with Sherlock?

The thoughts plagued him as he brought the tea out and settled onto the sofa. Sherlock put down his violin and came to sit beside John. They drank their tea in silence for a while, John thinking he was doing an excellent job of hiding his thoughts by staying silent. 

“I’m not him,” Sherlock finally said. “I’m not going to—“

“It’s ok.” John cut him off uncomfortably.

Sherlock grabbed John’s tea from his hand and put both cups on the coffee table. “No, John, listen,” he said firmly. "You really are terrible at just listening." He turned to face John, popping a leg up onto the sofa to face John properly and grab John’s hands in his.  “When I said all the things I said about love in the past, it was because a great many people proved to me what a weakness it can be. Just as they have done to you. But then I met you.” He smiled.  “And for a while there, I hated love, but only because I knew I loved you and you weren’t going to return it. Or so I thought. It was a protective layer I placed upon myself. Just like when you announced repeatedly that you were not gay. Protection, John. And I don’t need to know… as a matter of fact I don’t want to know what Alex did or didn’t do. It’s irrelevant to me. But I can promise you, whatever he did that made you think people would just hurt you… I promise you I won’t be that. I’m not him, John. I am going to make a great many mistakes because I’m me, but you’ve seen me at my worst already. So you know that. But I won’t be him.  And we can just be... us. And you can stop hiding and second guessing and running. I’m right here as I’ve always been for as long as you’ve known me. And I won’t be going anywhere.”

John sighed and pulled Sherlock in for the most tender of kisses. 

“Now come back to bed. I wasn't actually done with you yet,” Sherlock said and they both laughed at him being flirtatious. 

“The tea…”

“Really John?” Sherlock asked.

“No, you’re right. You’re right. The tea can wait. I’m all yours,” John said.

“Yes, yes you are,” Sherlock sighed, the sound full of contentment, and he took John’s hand to lead him back to the bedroom.

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun 

@sillygirlsmindpalace @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn  

@therealalexisamess-blog @e-b1838 @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter 

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me @sherlocke3d

@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

[aliaology]

FRIENDS DONT

summary: it takes a night at home with your friends to realize you have feelings for your best friend, and hopefully you will find out if he reciprocates them.

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warning: just fluff lol maybe sum jealousy. the names lena, alisha, kaya and raine are used! if one of them is your name, change it as you please.

based on ‘friends dont’ by maddie and tae!

they dont cancel other plans. have conversations with nothing but their eyes. they dont hear each others names, and forget to concentrate. hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite.

your friend scoffed, “there is no way you and quinn are just strictly best friends. no way.” she spoke.

you raised a brow as you leaned back onto your couch, the soft fabric rubbing slightly on your neck, sending chills down your spine. you look at all of your friends, seeing they all had agreed with her.

“lena, me and quinn are just friends. i mean come on, i’ve known him my entire life!” you spoke.

“babe, he cancels all of his plans just for you. literally he drops them.” alisha spoke. “remember when he had a date and left midway through because you told him you needed to talk to him after it?”

you sighed. “that was one time.”

“no, no it wasn’t.”

quinn picked his phone up, leaning against the bars counter, in the corner. a girl was all up on his side. “hello?” he spoke.

“quinny?” your voice broke through the phone. worry surged through the brunette. “are you busy?” you sniffled.

“no— no of course not, whats wrong?” he asked.

you let out a small sob, “he broke up with me.”

quinn’s jaw clenched. “ill be there soon.” he hung up the phone and walked away, immediately forgetting about the girl who clearly wanted to hook up.

his mind was on you and only you.

“that was one time and it wasn’t like he planned a date or anything. jesus.” you rolled your eyes.

“oh please— lets add how you two can so easily talk, but instead its with your eyes and not your words!”

you could admit that that was true. in every room, your gaze found quinn’s and it was almost as if you two knew what the other was thinking.

‘save me.’ ‘save you? save ME.’

no matter where you were, you and quinn were always linked in some sort of way.

you huffed and crossed your arms, “okay yeah, but we’ve known each other our entire lives, it’s normal!”

kaya looked at you with raised eyebrows. “so its normal to gaze into his eyes and forget the rest of the world around you..?”

“i do not do that!”

that hit a nerve.

friends dont call you in the middle of the night, couldn’t even tell you why, they just felt like saying ‘hi.’ friends dont stand around playing with their keys, finding reasons not to leave, tryin’ to hide the chemistry.

“there has to be something going on, girl. he literally will randomly call you in the middle of the night!” raine exclaimed.

“yeah— and he is currently doing it now.” alisha pointed at your phone.

your eyes widened and you grabbed your phone, quickly going to the kitchen. “hello?” you spoke into the phone.

“hi..” quinn said, softly.

“hey” you smile. “everything okay?” you asked.

quinn stumbled, head spinning as he heard your voice. he fumbled with his keys. “yeah yeah— sorry i uhm, i was gonna tell you something but it.. slipped.” he spoke, slowly.

lielielielielie

“its okay” you laugh slightly. “are you just getting home?” you ask.

he nods before remembering you couldn’t see him, “uh yeah— yeah. practice ran late today” he told. you could hear his keys jingle and then a door open.

“tired i assume?” you spoke.

he let out a breathy laugh. “a little.”

you smile. “ill let you go then, quinny. i think you need rest. ill call in the morning, okay?”

“okay” he spoke.

“bye quinn.”

“bye”

you walked back into the living room and sat down. “sorry” you smiled awkwardly.

“this is exactly what we mean, babe! plus he will stall for as long as he can just to stay here with you!” lena exclaimed.

drive a little too slow, take the long way home, get a little too close.

you yawned as quinn drove slowly through the rural side of michigan. his hand lied dangerously close to your thigh as his eyes focused on the road.

zach bryan softly played in the back as quinn took a small turn.

you looked over at him with furrowed brows. “where are we going?” you asked.

quinn stutters, “uhm— uh the uh— long way. i find it more pretty.” he got out.

you nodded and leaned against the center console. “better be pretty or you owe me, hughes” you grin.

they dont almost say ‘i love you’ when they’re downtown somewhere, just a little drunk. they dont talk about the future, and put each other in it. and get chills with every accidental touch.

“we can’t forget that one weekend when us girls went out” kaya stated.

raine groaned, “worst one of them all.”

you furrowed your brows. alisha looked at you, “do you not remember?” she asked.

you shook your head. lena sighs, “you got a little drunk, and called quinn, this was when we were all in the uber back. you called quinn to let him know you were on your way home because he asked you too.”

“you almost told him you loved him.” she finished.

you shrug, “i dont see the big deal, we say ‘love you’ all the time.

“babe, you almost said you were in love with him.” alisha clarified.

“then— all you did was tell us about how in the future, you only saw quinn. it was quinn this, quinn that.” raine explained.

“plus— we all see how you react when he touches you.” she added.

i keep telling myself this might be nothing, but one look in your eyes and god, there’s something. you can lie to me and say you dont..

there was no way. you let their words sink in. this was nothing, right? but then again, which pair of best friends acts like this? none of your girlfriends have mentioned stuff like this about their boy best friend.

imagining yourself with quinn was actively frequent and now you were starting to realize why.

“babes you can lie to us and say you dont love him, but honey we know you do.”

yeah, you do.

“i do. bu—but that doesn’t mean anything, guys. he has feelings too.”

then your phone went off.

‘can we meet in the morning?’

“i have a feeling he reciprocates them.”

lowkey love but lowkey HATE.

[hellfirecvnt]

Hard to Get

Prewar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader

Warnings: ****This is a COMPLETE fic. This post is LONG!! Unprotected sex, oral, lying, slight fluff ending, Idk what else.

Summary: It's been a new experience being cast in the lead of the latest Hollywood movie. What's even more nerve-wracking is your far-more-famous-than-you co-star. After you can't seem to sell the chemistry between you to the director, you're pushed to spend more quality time with your cohort.

Notes: Barb doesn't exist. Cooper has never been married. I know she's the "bad guy" but I love and support Barb just bc she's a beautiful woman. Thank you.

"Quiet on the set!" A stout, demanding man's voice cuts through the dull rumble of idle conversation across the set of the movie you're starring in. It's your first lead role in a Hollywood blockbuster. You're nearly a month into filming, much more comfortable than you were in those early days. The veteran actors used to give you the hardest time. Some in jest, others in spite or envy. That's just showbiz.

Not a day goes by that nearly every man on the set makes at least two inappropriate remarks to a woman co-star or doe-eyed extra. Nearly, because one man, the other lead, has yet to make your stomach churn with unsafe discomfort. Cooper Howard. He's a world-renowned actor, known best for his westerns, but just as popular in other genres. Of course, he did ask you out for drinks in your first two weeks on set. He said it was to get to know each other, seeing as the two of you will be spending so much time together while filming, but your 10-foot-high walls wouldn't waver. You turned him down. Since then, he's been nothing but a gentleman.

The movie you're making is about a burnt-out detective on his last case. Cooper plays Detective John Silvers and you play the villainous minx, Monae Lark. The plot is that Monae will give John the run around of his life, accumulating mutual respect for each other's skills and eventually, accumulating romantic tension. The only issue with that storyline is... You are seemingly terrible at faking chemistry. SO much so, in fact, that they canceled all your scenes for the day and sent you back to your trailer. You are horrified as you step through the door, having held a perfectly calm face until then.

"Whoa, what's wrong with you?" Your agent, a short, frail, older woman with silver hair and a smoker's voice perks up on your couch when she sees your distressed face. Her name is Verna, and she's represented you throughout your entire career.

"They've canceled my scenes for today..." You slump in the seat nearest to you.

"What? Why?"

"Apparently, Cooper Howard and I don't have any chemistry." You make a mocking gesture with your hands. "The director is pissed."

"Well, duh. That's people's livelihoods we're wasting with every reshoot." Her bluntness hits you like a kick in the gut. "How do you two not have chemistry? You've been spending time together, right?"

"Of course! We read lines for almost two hours every day!"

"No, honey. That's working. Do you two spend time together? Like, get dinner and get to know each other?" The nonchalant nature of your agent's question perplexes you.

"Well, no," you admit.

"So you've just been coming in here and greeting him like a fuckin' grocery clerk before barking prewritten lines at him for a few hours?"

"I- Well... Yeah. He asked to get drinks back when filming first started, but I didn't want to look like the woman who got one big break and started fucking any man in Hollywood I could get my hands on!" The desperation in your voice is becoming more and more apparent.

"Relax, babe. The PR training we're gonna put you through to promote this film is gonna kill you if you can't have a little dinner and survive a few baseless rumors. I'm about to call his agent right now." The silver-haired woman reaches for the mint telephone and dials a number into the rotary.

"He still has scenes to shoot today, he's gonna be busy-" Your sentence is cut off when Verna holds a finger up, signaling you to give her a moment of silence. As she chats away on the phone, talking as if she's known the guy for years, you step over to the window of your trailer. Hesitantly, you peek outside, and there he is. Your intimidatingly famous and peculiarly handsome co-star.

"Fabulous! Talk soon, darling," your agent chimes from across the trailer. Just then, you see a man in a suit approach Cooper and tell him something. Context clues tell you all you need to know about their conversation. He's merely alerting his client of a scheduled meeting with his horrifically embarrassed cohort. You nearly squeeze your eyes shut to avoid the humiliation of any sigh or eye-roll he expresses in response, but that's not the case. You can hear him through the thin walls of your tin sanctuary.

"Tonight? Perfect. Send her something nice from me." He gives his agent a friendly pat on the back, sending him off. You can't help but notice Cooper's lingering smile, a new pep in his step. You can't help but chuckle at the display, it's monumentally relieving.

Filming wraps up for the day and even though your workday was cut short, you remained on set for various screen tests and voice-over work. A sudden knock on your trailer door causes you to jump. You pull your robe over your silk slip dress and open the door to an intern holding a luxurious flower arrangement in a crystal vase. Coincidentally, your favorite flowers.

"Oh! Thank you." You take the gift with a smile and the young man announces that it's from Cooper Howard, though you'd already gathered that much. "I'll be sure to thank him properly, then." You smile as the intern nods and takes off to his next task. You can't help but grin as you proudly place your new bouquet front and center on the counter. The large studio lights finally cut on and you step onto the large, open floor. It's much busier and louder now that the director has left.

"Glad to hear you changed your mind," a smooth, deep voice captures your attention. You turn to see Cooper approaching you, adjusting the buttons of his sleeves.

"You must forgive my ignorance, Mr. Howard. I'm a Broadway girl. I didn't realize how different our worlds are until I got here," you laugh. "Being seen out with a costar on that side of the circuit will get you dubbed something tasteless if you're not careful."

"Ah, well. Seems like the tabloids should spend less time worrying about what women do with their free time. I promise not to give them anything to talk about." He smiles a bright, friendly smile, winking.

"I appreciate that," you say, walking beside him as you head toward the exit. If you were leaving the theatre with your co-star in this way, all eyes would be prying into you with jealousy and hoping for the opportunity to knock you off your pedestal once and for all.

"You do have to do me one little favor though." He stops walking as if his request will be heavy. A lump grows in your chest as you assume this is it, this is where he proves he's just like the others.

"You've gotta knock that 'Mr. Howard' shit out," he chuckles. "Cooper." He extends a hand as if to redo your meeting all those weeks ago.

"Y/N," you grin, shaking his hand firmly. He repeats you as if your name tastes sweet on his tongue. With that, the two of you make your way to his car. He opens the door for you and you can't help but chuckle at his chivalrous actions. Cooper takes you to the nicest restaurant in town. Pricey, even for your recently fattened wallet.

"So, what should I know about classy, mysterious Y/N?" The refined, older man grins at you from across the fine wood table.

"Classy and mysterious? You give me far too much credit." You make a dismissive motion with your hand. "I'm an open book once you get to know me."

"And how easy of a feat is that, exactly?" He intentionally tilts his chin up, looking down at you through his eyelashes. You're taken aback by the effect it has on you. Unwilling to be an easily swooned newbie on the scene, you regain control of your train of thought.

"Not at all." You smile wickedly. "I hope you're patient."

"Of course I am, I've hardly noticed it's taken 20 minutes for our wine to get here." The two of you share a quiet laugh in the dimly lit restaurant.

"What about you, Cooper Howard? What should I know about you that the tabloids haven't already covered?"

"I'm an open book, no effort necessary." He shrugs. You burst into a hard-to-stifle laugh.

"I hardly believe that. What do you do in your free time?" You ask, staring off small.

"I drink inside a big, empty home and I reminisce." He sighs.

"What on Earth are you on about?"

"Before I was The Cooper Howard, I was just a man with a farm in the middle of sunshine and fresh air: nowhere."

"I never would've guessed," you shrug, taking in the new information. The waiter continuously fills your glasses and you take small sips as you listen.

"What about you, Broadway? What were your early days like?"

"I've been training and performing since I can remember. But I know I used to love drawing when I was a kid. I still do it sometimes, when I have time."

"Are you any good?" He asks bluntly.

"I'll have you know I was better than kids three and four grades above me in the arts program," you brag unseriously.

"You'll have to draw me something someday."

"I'd love to," you grin. The two of you continue talking, sharing funny stories from your childhoods and early days in your careers. After a while, this man whose status and essence alone used to intimidate you somehow feels like a peer.

"What brings a star of the stage over here to the film industry?" Cooper asks smoothly.

"They sought me out, actually. Must've been my look or the way I sound like honey with a transatlantic accent," you wink. Cooper chuckles, enchanted by you. He reaches a sly hand across the table and watches you notice it. You glance at his awaiting palm, but you don't meet his touch. He raises an eyebrow as he slowly closes his hand, drawing his arm back in.

"This place is nice, but-"

"I'm not going to your place, Mr. Howard."

"I was going to say we should order another bottle of this wine." He laughs, drawing you in with his brilliant smile.

"Forgive me, Cooper. One of these days I'll let my guard down," you jest. The evening rolls on smoothly. Your table is a quiet haven of laughter and camaraderie. For the first time in your career, onstage or in front of the camera, you feel a genuine sense of friendship with your co-star. When you performed Chicago as Roxy Hart, your male cohorts made the air thick with discomfort, while the women did everything in their power to drag you down. It's not their fault, of course. The industry forced them to be that way.

As the hours pass like minutes, the night comes to an end. Cooper pays the bill and tips the waiter a generous amount, not unnoticed by you. He walks you to the car, opening the door for you to slip inside.

"And they say 'Chivalry is dead,'" you wink as Cooper closes the door. In the few seconds it takes for him to round the vehicle and open the driver's door, he lowers his guard. Truly taken aback by your suave nature compared to the nervous mess he's known you as. It must be the wine, though neither of you is drunk.

Undecided whether or not he's met his match, Cooper finally opens his door and takes his position in the driver's seat. He seems almost nervous, not moving as gracefully or speaking as cool as he's known for.

"Just right around this corner, here," you say, pointing to the turn that leads to the road you live on. Cooper can't help but steal curious glances at the enigma next to him. What was meant to be a business dinner/ PR move has turned into a challenge to him, and doesn't every cowboy love a challenge? Of course, he had no plans of overstepping any of your many firm boundaries, but he planned to melt you the same way he melts for you right now.

You arrive at your home and he unfastens his buckle as well, leaving the car on. You glance at him, assessing his intentions. He's quick to notice your ocular pat-down and volunteers to put your mind at ease.

"I'm walking you to your door, sweetheart."

"That's very kind of you, Cooper. Thank you," you smirk, entertained by his ability to read you so keenly. He escorts you safely to the large oak door of your humble, yet still high-end abode. The two of you stand in silence for a moment until you speak. "If you try to come inside, I'll have to sic my very large dog on you."

"A very large dog?" Cooper asks, feigning mild fear.

"She doesn't like men," you smile warmly, bantering playfully.

"Maybe one day, she can try warming up to me."

"Until then, Cooper Howard," you nod, disappearing inside your house. He's nearly shocked, but mostly he's giddy.

What a woman, he internally monologues. His walk back to the car packs that same pep as when he found out about their dinner in the first place. Maybe even more.

After just a couple weeks of running lines together and the occasional after-work bar hop, your days on set become a comfortable routine, rather than a journey into the lion's den. You can't help but feel like you have Cooper to thank for that. The scenes between you two are now known to make the interns blush.

"Action!" The director's firm voice slices through the air. You and Cooper are positioned at opposite sides of the "room," a set made to look like Detective Silvers's office. It's dark, and a dim street lamp's glow reaches through the barely opened blinds. You run a delicate finger along the windowpane before speaking your first line.

"You've impressed me, Detective Silvers. That's not an easy feat." You take two steps to the left, placing your foot perfectly on your mark.

"You're not so easy to fool, Ms. Lark. Not like they said, anyway." The tone in Cooper's voice when he plays this character sends a wave of involuntary goosebumps down your flesh.

"You can call me Monae, honey. Don't we know each other well enough by now?" You strut gracefully across the room, leaning teasingly over his desk, where he sits. "They always say I'm a fool, because I play it so well, don't I?" Slowly, Cooper straightens up in his seat, bringing his face closer to yours as you drape across the desk.

"You keep a hell of a poker face, darling," he whispers. Something in his eyes tells you it's Cooper speaking, not Detective Silvers.

"Cut! That's a wrap!" The director dismisses the crew. Everyone's shoulders relax in unison. It's undoubtedly been smooth sailing ever since you and Cooper started spending more time together.

"Hey, Y/N," Cooper calls out to you as you head back to wardrobe. You turn and meet his gaze with a smile. "You're not busy tonight, are you?"

"Of course not. I'm waiting for my coworker to tell me what our plans are," you chuckle.

"Coworker? Ice cold. We're friends." His grin is diabolically attractive. You thank the stars above for the layers and layers of makeup concealing the darkening blush on your cheeks.

"Of course we're friends, Cooper. What are we getting into tonight?" You ask with an excited grin.

"There's a new lounge opening downtown. I know the owner pretty well. And not to brag or anything, but it's a pretty nice place to get a table on opening night." He smiles, holding his arms out as if he's waiting for a yes or no from you.

"Your friend's club is opening?"

"Well, don't make it sound too exciting now," his sarcastic tone draws a laugh from your lips.

"I'm pulling your leg, Cooper. I'd love to go." The two of you split off to get out of costume and makeup. Once you're back in your own attire, you begin to feel a sense of panic.

"You gotta stop making that face, babe. You're gonna get a worry line." Verna appears in the common area of your dressing room.

"Verna, what do you know about the new lounge opening downtown?" You turn to her with narrow eyes.

"It's a pretty big deal. Bonnie Lewis was complaining about not getting a table until next weekend," Verna laughs. You begin to wonder what kind of strings Cooper had to pull or if his story about knowing the owner was true. Not that you think him a liar, it just seemed like banter at the time.

"I need to go home." You snatch your keys from the hook next to the trailer door and bolt to your car. Verna stands in confusion, hair blowing in the breeze of your speedy exit.

"No, no, no!" You groan as you tear through your closet. Nothing seems to fit the idea you've made up in your head of what a woman should wear to something like this. You can't decide which would be more horrifying, being overdressed or underdressed. You start thinking up excuses to give Cooper why you can't come out tonight when suddenly, there's a knock at the door.

"Delivery for a Ms. Y/L/N?" The bright-eyed delivery girl hands you a large, flatter box. You thank her and nod goodbye, taking the package inside to your room. You scan the outside for any indication of what it could be or who it's from. You get fan mail all the time, so it's nothing new.

You take a blade to the taped seams and uncover a note atop a few layers of tissue paper.

"For tonight, if you want. -C.H."

You furrow your brow as you reread the note a few more times. Curiously, you place the note aside and reach for the tissue paper, unfolding it to reveal a stunning mass of glistening fabric. With widened eyes, you reach into the box and lift the garment to see it's a long, crystal-stoned dress with a high slit up the side. It reminds you of something your character, Monae Lark, would wear. It's gorgeous and looks like it costs as much as your Hollywood home.

You hold the dress up to your body in the mirror next to your bed and it's perfect. You certainly didn't own anything of this caliber until now. You get dressed and ready, hoping your finest jewelry does the dress its due justice. For just a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You take in this heavenly view, you can hardly believe it's you staring back at all.

A ring of the doorbell snaps you from your thoughts and you make your way to the door. Standing on the other side is Cooper. The moment his eyes meet yours, his face becomes illuminated with a big, marveling smile. He glances at you, up and down, taking in the way the dress drapes over you like water down a stream.

"You look magnificent," he speaks in awe.

"Thank you for the dress, Cooper. It's beautiful." Your eyes sparkle as you thank him for your gift.

"You're discrediting yourself. It just looked like a sparkly piece of fabric before I saw it like-" he places his hands daringly on your hips. "This." You gasp at his invasive action, taken aback by his boldness.

"Shall we get going, then?" You smirk, undeniably excited by his touch. He leads you to the car and opens the door for you like a gentleman. His chivalrous displays only make you yearn more and more. He's always like that, even on set. He prioritizes your comfort, especially in the sex scenes, which you've been reshooting a lot lately.

Cooper escorts you inside the lounge. They don't even check the list, everyone knows who you two are. Eyes and camera flashes all focus on you as any and every media outlet tries to get their hands on the latest spot to be seen in downtown Hollywood. You feel glamorous on his arm as he leads you to the table. Cocktails are promptly ordered and arrive at your table in impressive time.

You take in your foreign surroundings. It all looks so high above you, yet you're here. It's humbling. The ceilings are tall and dark while the rest of the room is dimly lit. A band plays smooth music to a crowd busy with multiple conversations. You're both sat in a large booth with seating that wraps all the way around. The low light bouncing off the crystals on your dress draws any and all attention to your table. To you. To Cooper sitting with you.

The night is fun and exciting, you nearly lose track of your drinks, but as always, you manage to remain only slightly buzzed. Careful not to sully your own name with drunken hijinks. And while you're not drunk per se, you are feeling much bolder than usual. You can't seem to pry your eyes off of your arm candy. Cooper is quick to notice, playing into your flirtatious behavior.

"Do I have something on my face?" He chuckles, brushing his hand against his cheek, tracing his jawline. You know right then that you've been caught gawking and your face turns bright red, hidden thankfully under the dim lighting.

"No, Cooper. I just happen to like what I'm looking at, is all." You bite your lip, surprised by your own words. You even think you can see him blushing.

"If I'm being honest, I really like what I'm lookin' at as well." His eyes burn into yours.

"Everyone's looking at us," you whisper, drawing closer and closer to him in the round booth.

"Let them watch," he mumbles, closing the gap between you two and drawing you into a passionate kiss. Your heart begins to race as his hands roughly grip onto you, pulling you closer to him in the booth. "Can we get out of here, darlin'?"

"Take me home, Cooper," you sigh as your eyes travel back and forth between his eyes and his lips. You don't know if it's the drinks or the rush of being the main attraction in this swanky club, but it's taking you over and you have no objections.

"Whatever you say," Cooper says with a sly smile, extending a hand to you to guide you out of the booth. The walk to the door seems endless, as you find yourself ravenous to get him alone again. It's no secret for either of you that tensions have only been growing ever since your first dinner together. He clings to you, not so much possessively, but protectively. Almost as if he doesn't keep you latched to his side as you make your exit, you might fall away and break like the delicate crystals adorning your flowing dress.

The brisk night air coats your flesh in a cloak of goosebumps. Anticipation accelerates your pulse to an unknowable pace. When you reach his car, you pull his collar to your chest, cueing him to pin your hips against his vehicle and kiss you deeply, ignoring the paparazzi flash. But only for a second, as the second blazing flash snaps you back into reality and you hastily make your way into the car, giggling. Cooper shoots a knowing look at the flashing cameras, smirking with pride as he struts to the driver-side door.

When he gets inside the car, you're both laughing at the prying cameras. A part of you feels worried about how the tabloids will make you look, and Cooper can see that fear on your face. He furrows his brow.

"Hey, you know it's all..." He trails off, staring at you intently. You can nearly see his gears turning behind his eyes.

"Are you okay?" You ask, confused by his mid-sentence shutdown.

"Forget about it, I gotta get you somewhere a little more private." He winks, pulling out of the lot and past the ever-flashing journalists. You've fantasized plenty of time about this moment, how it'd play out. It's your current favorite dream to have, no doubt. His hand on your thigh lightly digs his fingers into your flesh, growing more and more desperate the closer you two get to your home in the hills.

You emerge from the car after he parks haphazardly in your driveway. The two of you are apart for mere seconds before he's upon you, locking your lips with his, wrapping the full lengths of his arms around you. You're nearly, quite literally swept off your feet. You lead him to the door and he follows your every step, beguiled. You open the door and spring inside.

"Surely I get to come inside just this once?" Cooper leans in your doorway as the distance between you grows. You stare at him, scanning your eyes up and down teasingly. He looks like he's ready to fall on his knees and beg.

"You're quite the gentleman, Cooper Howard." You shift your weight to your hip.

"My mama didn't raise me to barge into a lady's home uninvited."

"What part of our trip to the door makes you think you're uninvited?" You tilt your head. The conversation seems almost reminiscent of the characters you both play.

"The part where you didn't invite me in," he grins.

"My God, are you a Vampire?" You jest. "Please come inside. Make yourself at home," you say sarcastically. "Do I need to tell you what I expect you to do next?" Your words are rushed, as he speeds toward you once he's received his invite. He wraps you in another firm embrace and plants kisses and light bites along the slope of your neck.

"I think I can take it from here, darlin'." He plants another kiss. "Unless you're feeling like bossing someone around." He winks, allowing his hands to wander freely up and down your body, grasping at your breasts and thighs.

"Keep kissing me," you demand, to your own surprise more than his. He does as he's told, only hesitant for a second to register what you said. You break the kiss momentarily to make another demand. "Take my dress off, carefully." You instruct. Cooper happily obliges, doing exactly as you ask, carefully. Once your dress is carefully placed aside, he takes in the breathtaking sight of you, nearly bare before him, just a room's length away.

Your undergarments suggest you had this plan in mind long before getting in the car this evening. Lace and silk with garters and corsetry. You're unreal, even to a Hollywood Star like Cooper. His mouth hangs agape as he drinks in the image laid out in front of him.

"Well?" He awaits his next instruction.

"Oh, please," you scoff. "Lose the jacket, loosen the tie." He does as he's told, taking your commands and unfastening a few of the top buttons of his shirt. As he draws closer to you, crossing the room from where he'd sat your dress out of harm's way, he rolls his unbuttoned sleeves up his arms. There's something primal and animalistic about him as he towers over you where you lie on the bed.

"Now, you tell me what to do." Your voice is almost shaking as you say this, excited and anxious to shift the power dynamic. Cooper's face spreads into a soft smile. It's almost eerie.

"Come here." He snaps his fingers softly, pointing to the edge of the bed in front of him. You giddily comply, taking your seat with a pretty posture. You're perfectly positioned at his waist. "Belt."

You waste no time, wrapping your hands delicately around the buckle of his belt, unfastening it and moving on to the button and zipper. Cooper's erection strains against his underwear, hard and throbbing against your palm. He sighs at your touch, eyes rolling back in his head as you toy with him through his boxers.

"Touch yourself," he commands with a quiet rumble of a voice. You do as you're told, locking eyes with him as you slip a hand past your panties. You moan under your own knowing hand, pouting your lips in an 'o' shape. Truly putting on a show for someone so deadset on maintaining a "pure" reputation.

"Cooper," you moan his name, earning a surprised smirk from him. He shakes his head in disbelief.

"So careful, so reserved, so... Mysterious," he chuckles, caressing your cheek in his palm as you continue to play with yourself. "I knew you must've had secrets, but my God, you filthy little thing." His words are like sugar and honey as he showers you with praise. "I'm going to make you feel so good, babydoll."

Cooper gently tugs your arm away from your drenched panties and replaces your hand with his own. He carefully pumps his middle finger in and out of you, earning sensual moans from deep in your chest.

"Oh, my God!" You chant to the heavens, riding an indescribable high. Cooper is far more skilled with his hands than you could've anticipated. After a few moments, you realize he was paying attention to the way you touch yourself, and is now attempting to mirror that. And he's doing well. The attention to detail is enough to bring you ecstasy all on its own.

He tugs his undergarments down, freeing his tumescent cock from its restraints, still fingering you all the while. His large size is jarring, but you've never been the type to turn away from a challenge. You take his shaft in your hand and pump up and down as you wrap your lips around his tip. His hand is quick to find the back of your head, carefully working you further and further down his length with each bob of your head.

"Jesus Christ, baby. Look at you," he groans, tugging your hair to make you go faster. You keep at it as long as possible, long after your neck is good and sore. Finally, he takes a sharp inhale and pulls your face away from his waist.

"Lay back on the bed, darlin'. I can't wait for this anymore." Cooper withdraws his hand and slides your panties down your legs, careful to leave the rest of your scandalous outfit in place. You're certain he's going to place himself in front of you and fuck the daylights out of you, but instead, he lowers his head to your dripping cunt and begins licking broad stripes up and down your slit.

You melt into his technique as his tongue explores every corner of you. The knot in your stomach tightens as you arch your back, desperate for more contact. A daring hand makes its way to his pushed-back hair, encouraging him. You can feel his lips curl into a grin against your delicate skin. In your pleasure-induced haze, you begin to wonder how you found yourself in your own bed, getting eaten out by Cooper Howard.

Suddenly, he pulls away. His actions are rushed now, almost desperate as he reaches for his waist, taking the base of his cock in his hand and positioning himself over you. You're anxious but excited. There's a fire in your blood as he slips inside of you. Both of you emit guttural moans, filling the room with the vulgar sounds of huffing breaths and wetness as he thrusts in and out.

"You look so pretty when you're getting fucked," he whispers in your ear before jerking you up from where you lie. He positions you on your hands and knees and you take it upon yourself to arch your back like a cat, dipping as far down as you can. The sight of it is enough to make Cooper faint. You're the prettiest putty he's ever had in his hands. He trails his soft, open palms down your sides, resting his hands on your ass.

Cooper gropes and smacks the supple flesh, earning coos of approval from you with each strike. He basks in your beauty for a while, taking the moment in. He bites down on his index knuckle, looking away from you for a moment. You glance over your shoulder to investigate the sudden hold-up, and he looks preoccupied.

"Cooper," you gain his attention back to you. "Now is a terrible time to have second thoughts..."

"I'm afraid all I'm thinking about right this second is this." Abruptly, you feel him slip back into you. A gasp invades your lungs as you push yourself backward, allowing him deeper inside. His pace is quick and steady, guiding you like an expert to your orgasm. He's at it for so long, your arms threaten to buckle. When he notices the slightest waver in your elbows, he shoves your face into the mattress. Your arms are instantly relieved and he picks up his vigorous pace.

"Oh, god!" Your wails echo off the walls of your large bedroom, stroking his ego with every moan.

"Come on, baby... Cum for me..." He huffs, talking you through the growing knot in your stomach. He withdraws for mere seconds to shift your positions. He plants his feet on the floor and returns you to your back, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder as he picks up where he left off. His thrusts become sloppy, though they still maintain that toe-curling speed.

"Oh, wait!" You cry out, but his hips refuse to relent. He shushes you sweetly, fucking you until your climax renders you breathless. You moan loudly and sensually, it's like music to Cooper's ears. You're well and fucked out as he continues chasing his own high. After only a few more moments of overstimulation, he pulls out and pumps his cock until he finishes on your lace-clad chest. You watch him through fluttering eyelashes as he throws his head back in ecstasy.

"You're... Something else," he huffs between heavy breaths. You create room for him to collapse next to you on the bed and he happily obliges. The two of you, sweaty and breathless, lie in comfortable silence for a short while. "Hey, when do I get to meet your big, dangerous dog? She's awfully quiet."

"I don't have a dog." You state flatly, admitting your lie.

"I had a feeling that threat wasn't so serious."

"Oh, it's plenty serious. It's just not true. You can stay the night if you want," you offer with a smile as you rise from the bed and make your way to the bathroom to shower.

"Stay the night, huh?" He repeats you.

"Yes. I'd like it if you did," you wink, disappearing to clean yourself up before bed. Just as you're about to reach for the handle to turn the water off, you're joined in the shower.

Cooper buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close to his naked body from behind. You share a passionate kiss under the warm running water before you step out and let him take over. The two of you sleep in each other's arms, completely naked, bundled in your expensive bedclothes.

In the following days, news breaks of your visit to the lounge with Cooper. The photo of the kiss by the car is plastered on every magazine faster than you can blink. At first, you're terrified of what this could mean for your stage career, should you never get another role in film, but Cooper continuously reassures you. Weeks go by and you can't remember the last time you left the set without him by your side. He makes you feel safe and beautiful. You trust him in ways you didn't think you could trust men in the industry. You don't care if the two of you never label what you have, you're just happy to have it.

It all seems to be a little too perfect until the day the film debuts. You and Cooper are a sight to behold on the red carpet at the premiere. The cameras can't seem to keep their blinding flashes off the two of you. Cooper seems in high spirits, wrapping you in tight hugs and kissing your forehead sweetly. You're a sap for his PDA ways.

The movie receives a standing ovation and you've never felt more pride in your life. For yourself, your co-stars, and the crew. Riding a high so strong it feels like glitter in your blood, you can't wait to get your man back home and show him how proud you really are.

"Cooper, hey!" You call out to him at the exclusive after-party. When he turns to face you, he smiles wide, pulling you in for a kiss while damn near dipping you like a dance partner. "Whoa, I need to call your name more often."

"Screaming it works for me too," he winks, eliciting a red-faced chuckle from you.

"Are you coming back to my place, or do I have to beg?" You ask, staring up at him with large, sparkling eyes.

"Well," he looks at you and then glances around the room, seemingly lost in thought for only a moment once again. "Of course, darlin'."

After arriving at your home and promptly tearing each other's clothes off, you lie leisurely on the bed next to Cooper. All of a sudden, he's sitting up and getting out of your bed. You're hardly aware of what he's doing until you realize he's getting dressed.

"Where are you off to?" You sit up, perplexed by his out-of-character quickness to leave.

"Unfortunately, I'm a busy man after a film premieres." He's staring at his cuffs, fastening the button as he talks to you.

"Of course, of course. It's just... So late."

"You're telling me, honey," he quips, planting a quick kiss on your lips and disappearing out the door. You hear him exit out the front and start up his car, pulling off into the night. You sit in silent shock. Surely that didn't just happen. Cooper Howard didn't just come over, fuck you, and leave after your film premiere after weeks and weeks of an ongoing intensely sexual relationship.

You decide to remain calm, after all, what else can you do? He's not yours to worry about, but worry, you do. You climb out of bed and shower as usual after a night with the beautiful man you thought you trusted until moments ago. What reason did he have to lie to you? To leave? You're a white-hot ball of smoke and fire when you emerge from the bathroom.

A lot of things can be used to describe you, most of them, very good. One thing, for you, stands out. Anger. You're slow to anger in nearly any situation, but when it happens, it happens. You're someone else entirely when you're angry. You get dressed, somewhat casual, somewhat flashy. Something to blend in wherever you may find him because that's where you're going.

After perfecting your hair and makeup- not one to get caught slacking- you slip into your car and make your way to the first few places you can assume he'd be. You check the restaurant where you had your first outing, in case he'd already romanced another co-star on another set. Not there. You check the lounge his friend owns. Not there.

"Hey there, handsome. The owner in?" You ask the bouncer.

"He's in the back, you're welcome to come in, Ms. Y/L/N."

"Thank you, darling. You're my favorite part of this place, you know that?" Your praise causes him to blush slightly and you make your way to the back office.

"Whoa! You can't just waltz in here!" A man wails angrily behind a shabby desk.

"I can. I definitely can. Where is Cooper tonight?" You tilt your head, scanning the man's face for any inconsistencies in his expression.

"Oh, shit! Y/N, we don't really get a lot of customers before we open," the man jokes, hoping to avoid the question. Not because he knows anything, but simply because he's not a snitch. You respect him for it... or not.

"Where is Cooper?" You repeat.

"I don't know. Wouldn't tell ya if I did." The man shrugs shamelessly.

"I'll be seeing you, Vince." You smile warmly and depart. From behind you, you can hear him yelling after you, asking how you know his real name. You're a different person when you're angry, an observant person.

You leave the lounge and check a few more places with no success. Finally, you drive toward his house. The car is completely silent save for the sound of your angry, shuddered breaths. What it all comes down to is you never expected Cooper to owe you anything, but he was going to call it quits to your face like a man or you'll do it for him. When you pull down the long, private driveway, you're shocked and appalled by what you see.

There's a party going on. A real classy rager, it would seem. Your perfectly lined and lipsticked upper lip is pulled into a disgusted sneer as you exit the vehicle and calmly strut toward the door. You don't bother knocking, who'd hear it? You walk right in the door and resume the endless search for Cooper. You circle like a vulture to a carrion, eyes narrow with anticipation.

"My God, Y/N, is that you?" A familiar voice booms behind you. Sebastian. He plays a part in the movie that just dropped.

"Sebastian, you look stunning in yellow," you gush, latching onto his arm. This outgoing, charismatic behavior is foreign on you, but he's too drunk to notice your near-blind rage.

"Does Cooper know you're here? Come with me, darling." Sebastian guides you to the backdoor down several sets of porch and deck stairs. You can already see Cooper before he sees you. He looks drained.

"Sebastian, is he okay?"

"You ought to know, shouldn't you?" He winks, nudging you with the arm you're clinging to.

"What does that-" your question is cut off.

"Cooper! You won't believe who I've found," Sebastian announces, stepping out of the way to reveal you. Cooper's eyes widen.

"Ohh... Sea Bass, you gotta get out of here..." Cooper whispers, not breaking eye contact with you.

"What? Why? I thought you-"

"Go inside, Sebastian." You intrude, staring tangible daggers into Cooper. Sebastian finally vacates the premises and you wait for Cooper to start talking. The two of you share a long moment of staring before he finally stands from the patio chair.

"Y/N, I can-"

"Explain? You can explain. This is incredibly hurtful and confusing, but thank God you can explain." You hiss. He's taken aback by your venomous tone, but he knows he has it coming. "You don't owe me anything, I get that. But I was so clear that I didn't want to be treated like this." Your words sound heartbroken, but your tone is steady and harsh.

"I would've told you- I wanted to tell you, but your agent-"

"About the party? I don't care about the party, Cooper! I'm talking about all this fucking time we've spent together. You really put on a show for those paps, I remember that. Why go public when we won't even put a name on it?"

"Y/N, are you talking about the PR stunt? By the car? I thought that you..." He motions vaguely with his hands to symbolize his confusion.

"A- A PR stunt?" You repeat, mouth hanging open.

"Wasn't that why you kissed me?" Cooper asks, clearly as confused as you are.

"No, Cooper." You nearly laugh in disbelief. "That's not why. Why did you come to my house and do all that in front of no cameras? Huh? Was that a PR stunt? Did that feel like I knew it was a PR stunt?"

"I hesitated! I was wondering the same when you-"

"Well, thank God you hesitated. Hallelujah, amen, I'm going home. Sorry if I messed up your ruse. I hope I didn't ruin the illusion of nothing." You grit your teeth to stop you from speaking anymore. The walk back up all those steps and past everyone inside feels a thousand miles long. Cooper just stands there, silent, watching you walk away. Your emphasis on your last word holds all the hurt you were trying to hold back.

"What just happened?" Sebastian appears behind you like the busybody he is.

"Exactly what everyone thought: nothing." Your words are meant to sound hateful and angry, but they just sound sad now. You speed out the front door, away from the party and everything it entails. Once you're in the car, tears pour down your face. Your worst fear comes true. Humiliation, heartbreak, hubris. You begin to understand what they mean when they say "too good to be true."

At your agent's request, you're staying at home for now. Minimizing going out unless it's for press. And God, there is so much press. So many large rooms that feel hopelessly cramped as you find yourself shoved into Cooper at every turn. You maintain perfect composure for the cameras, even Verna is impressed as she watches from the sidelines. She's heard your woes time and time again, but even she sympathizes with you this time. You worked so hard to avoid this situation for so long in your career.

"Do you think we could talk later?" He mumbles in your ear with a big, fake smile and you giggle as if he's whispered sweet nothings.

"Fuck you." You reply with a playful faux grin. He sighs, but neither of you let up from the act.

"You really are Monae Lark, huh?" Cooper chuckles nervously.

"Please let me just get through this in peace." Your voice carries hurt. So much so, that he can feel it in his chest when you speak.

"Alright, I'm sorry." It's the last words shared between you two for the entire rest of the evening. You're ice cold, surrounding yourself with walls much, much higher than before. Cooper notices, but no one else, save for Verna and maybe even Sebastian, can tell a difference. Your ability to mask this pain only adds to his endless guilt.

You're being interviewed with another actress, finally tied up in a conversation you want to be in. You're glowing in comparison to your moments next to Cooper. Meanwhile, he and Sebastian sit off to the side, having just finished their interview with the same host.

"I think you should just accept your loss. Maybe you two can rekindle something in ten years," Sebastian shrugs. Cooper looks at him in disbelief of what he's just suggested.

"I don't want to 'rekindle something in ten years,' I want her now. I want her back." He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, stressed.

"I thought you weren't putting a label on it," Sebastian chuckles.

"That was before I found out that she had no idea we were doing PR, fucker."

"Oh, calm down. It was a misunderstanding," he looks at Cooper. "So make it understood."

In the days following that event, Cooper tries his hardest to take Sebastian's advice, but you won't let him speak when you answer your house phone and realize it's him. Weeks go by and you demand Verna find a way to schedule you and Cooper at opposing time windows for every press event here on out. You appease the crowd with a lot of "We just missed each other, but I'll see him at home," with a stupid wink. Everything feels so fake. It feels like you're constantly acting now, it's exhausting.

"Look doll, I can't help you out of seeing him at the award show in a few weeks," Verna warns. It's now been a month since you and Cooper last saw each other, longer than that since you've spoken. You're both so busy, your minds haven't had time to ruminate on each other like when you had to see each other all the time. The pain has softened and even the paps stopped asking about where the other one is when you go out.

"It's fine, Verna. But I want you to hire the stylist from my press tour in Italy last year. When I was in Aida."

"On it, boss," she salutes, already holding a phone to her ear.

Verna gets you some face time with the stylist and you discuss what you're looking for in the look. You describe something sparkling and demanding attention, something Monae Lark would wear. As you watch the designer sketch, you realize you've described the dress Cooper gifted you. You're just now piecing together that it was meant to look like your character, it wasn't meant to be a sentimental gesture. You become furious all over again, demanding that the woman scrap that sketch.

"I want it form-fitting, black, silk." You begin listing adjectives that feel right.

"Tulle gloves? Fingerless?" The designer introjects.

"Yes, I love it. Not fingerless. Past the elbow. I want villainess, I want revenge."

"A revenge dress on the red carpet? I love my job." The artist begins sketching like mad and you watch your vision come to life on paper. It's perfect.

"You have two and a half weeks to get me fitted for this dress, is that okay? I'm sorry for the short notice." Your kindness goes a long way with this woman. She ensures you'll see your dress long before the deadline and you do, having a fitting only a few days over one and a half weeks later. The dress is everything you could've hoped for and after the alterations you're dressed to kill.

The night of the award show, your dress is perfectly fitted and your hair is styled intricately to match. A makeup artist finishes off your look and you stand to check yourself in the mirror. You look like your character stepped right out of the screen. A cold, heartless, murderous vixen, scorned too many times.

"Have you decided who you're walking with?" Your agent asks, concerned.

"I can't show up alone?"

"I'm afraid only the men can get away with that one unless you want prying eyes," she shrugs. You opt for calling Sebastian. You don't want to look like you're attempting to make Cooper jealous or hurt his feelings and you know all your actress co-stars already have dates and escorts. He graciously agrees, happy to know his two pals have opted for the high road.

"Well, let's get you on that carpet," Verna escorts you to your limo where Sebastian waits. The ride to the event makes you nauseous with anxiety, but you're not sure why. It's not like this is new to you anymore.

You make a grand entrance, on your co-star's arm, causing you to be bombarded with inaudible questions and blinding camera flashes. Sebastian separates from you for his own photo op. You give them various sultry poses, looking over your shoulder, and placing your hands on your hips. Your face remains stone, emotionless. Your sharp makeup and flat expression make you look like a piece of art. You're melting into your character for the cameras when you hear someone yell that Cooper Howard just walked in.

A decent amount of the cameras that were shoved in your face migrate over to him. Time seems to slow down for one whole minute as the two of you lock eyes. Every emotion neither of you had any time to feel has come rushing back. You reach out to Sebastian for some sort of grounding. Cooper notices that you're on his best friend's arm and he knows it's to show no malice. He sees it for what it is, an olive branch.

"Wow, you really mastered that empty, yearning, hopeless, doomed-love expression!" A man behind a camera shouts at you. You'd thank him, only you weren't trying to make that expression, regardless of how on theme it is for Monae.

"Let's see Cooper and Y/N together again!" Another pap yells, prompting Cooper to join you where you stand against the backdrop. Sebastian reminds you that the show must go on, leaving your side so your ex-fling can replace him. Cooper pulls you into his embrace, keeping his eyes on the audience. After several flashes, they demand to "see the love." You pull Cooper into a tight hug, smooching him on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick mark. He's smart enough to know that while you didn't show up with intentional arm candy, this isn't his real welcome. It's all for the cameras.

Without much thought, Cooper, to keep up the charade, catches you off guard by planting an unsuspecting kiss on your lips. It shouldn't have affected you the way it did, but the moment he pulls away, you two finally get a look at each other. Sebastian and Verna seem to be locked into the slow motion of the moment as well as their eyes bulge out of their heads while they watch your face shift through emotions.

"You're the meanest man I know," you whisper, heartbroken, before running off the red carpet and into the nearest empty area. You do your best to find privacy before you let your tears ruin your makeup.

Back in the carpet, Cooper and Sebastian stare at each other in horror before Sebas finally speaks up.

"Oh, no! A wardrobe malfunction at an event like this is dreadful. I'm glad she was able to catch that," he announces, patting Cooper on the back. That story seems to sell just fine as the cameras move on to the next arriving star.

"What the fuck were you thinking, kid?" Verna appears before Cooper the second he gets inside the building.

"I wasn't! I thought a kiss would shut them up, I was trying to speed this whole thing up for her," he sighs.

"Where did she go?" Sebastian asks the raspy old woman.

"We don't know. She took off so quickly, I couldn't see where she went." The old woman mumbles something angry under her breath and returns to looking for you.

You're in a room not intended to be accessed during this event, but it wasn't locked, so who cares? You find the nearest seat and allow yourself to cry quietly into your gloves.

"What did I do to deserve this? My career is so fucked when this gets out, and what is he?" You rant aloud to no one.

"He's looking for you," Cooper answers your rhetorical question.

"No, he's fine. His career is fine. Everything for him is fine."

"What makes you think that? That I'm fine?" He sounds offended, frustrated.

"Well it was all just an act to you, wasn't it? I fell hard and it was just overtime for you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he makes a sharp motion with his hand, angry and precise.

"I thought you felt the same and I'm utterly embarrassed now. I'm so embarrassed, I can only be angry. And I'm so heartbroken, I can only cry. It's unproductive." You pull a compact mirror from your clutch purse and begin fixing your makeup to the best of your ability. "I didn't want to be your on-set floozy."

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't communicate what that night at the lounge was. I'm sorry I let you invite me inside your house. I swear, I thought you knew what we were doing. I thought the self-preservation thing was a shtick you were just really good at." Cooper takes a few steps closer to you. "I thought it was just fooling around, so I didn't want to get attached, but-"

"But what? Because this is all just kind of hurting my feelings again."

"But I did get attached. I did catch feelings. The night of that party, I was outside spilling my guts to Sebastian because he was the only person who would hear it."

"Cooper..."

"I'm not done." He puts a hand up. "I miss you. I've been pissed off every single day just because I can't talk to you. The minute I forget about you, it's like the wind blows a different way and I'm reminded of the way your hair catches in the breeze when you're in my car with the windows down."

"Cooper."

"I think about you every single day and I'm fucking livid with you for making me wait this long to get to say this to you." He inhales deeply. "I think I- I'm in love with you."

"That's... A little sappy, Cooper."

"Oh, come on." He drops his shoulders, defeated until he hears you start to chuckle.

"I guess I'm in love with you too," you admit.

"You guess?" He raises a brow, feigning offense.

"Would it have hurt this bad if I wasn't?" By now, Cooper's crossed the room. He answers your question by closing the gap between you and locking his lips with yours. It feels like breathing for the first time in months. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. You both missed this.

When you both finally rejoin the party, you're inseparable. Nothing in the world can knock the cheesy grins off your faces. Sebastian looks on proudly, standing next to Verna.

"Well, looks like I've lost my date," Sebastian laughs. "Shall we?" He offers Verna his arm and she laughs loudly before accepting.

You and Cooper quickly find yourselves in the position of Hollywood's favorite couple. It not only skyrockets your career, but his as well, seeing as your fan base from the theatre followed you over to film, and eventually, they found and adored Cooper. The next time either of you comes to a misunderstanding, you take Sebastian's advice. Make it understood.

[a-forbidden-detective]

‘It’s between lovers’

RonToto shippers, we have our own version of Gojo-Geto off JJK0 or the Whisper scene from “Lost in Translation.”

I admit that plot-based voice cancellation is the least favorite trope of mine. But, what is it exactly?

Sometimes, one line can change everything — for the characters as well as the audience. So, often, if that line has to come up early on, it will be cancelled out by some other noise, such as a truck passing or a plane taking off, or, in the case of dream worlds and other special cases, for no obvious reason whatsoever.

After being annoyed trying to find out from the mouth of Sofia Coppola what actually could Bob mean when he whispered something to Charlotte , she had this to say on the film’s 15th anniversary,

Just acknowledging that week meant something to both of them and it affects them going back to their lives. People always ask me what’s said. I always like Bill’s answer: that it’s between lovers – so I’ll leave it at that.”

Or Gojo’s words that made Geto say “You should at least curse me at the end.”

The only thing that was definite and official is that Ron says“thank you” to Toto, courtesy of Crunchyroll.

But Ron’s speech was long and if you look at Toto’s reaction it would be a life-altering moment. This isn’t the simple declaration of comradeship. This is something more intimate thinking that the anime crew knows the implications of these scenes to the viewers. They understand what are we going to say after we watch the scenes unfold. The effects, the way the story will evolve after this arc.

Toto’s pupils are dilated for one. His mouth is a complete O. These appearances are not part of the manga. These are anime exclusive.

What did Sherlock say about dilated pupils?

Irene Adler: Oh, dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?

Sherlock Holmes: No... because I took your pulse: elevated; your pupils: dilated. I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive. When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait; how true of you. The combination to your safe: your measurements - but this… [taking her cell phone] ... this is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head.

How about the scientific side of it :

Why Eyes Dilate: Increased Oxytocin

Oxytocin is the warm and fuzzy love hormone released after intimate connection. In empathic, healthy people (i.e. not psychopaths), oxytocin gets released after a hug, a sweet conversation, seeing a baby, or connecting strongly with someone. When oxytocin releases, pupils often dilate too.

The censored dialogue might irritate me along with the non-announcement of season 3. But, I still keep optimistic bc for the meantime we have these chapters animated. It is in our power to reinterpret it through fan fiction and fan arts. I just hope that this is not the end of interpreting Akira Amano’s work to our TV or handy screens.

[not-magdi]

Period

Summary: Well it‘s that time of the month again 😑 Luckily this time you‘re not alone 😁

Warnings: None

Words: 1.1k

A/N

As someone who currently is experiencing the same thing I would like to say that I also want to be babied at some point, but who is there for me? Nobody 😑

(A short moment to appreciate how frigging cute that boy looks!❤️)

Since Y/N woke up today she knew something was off, everything in her body ached and her head hurt like crazy. She had no clue what was going on, but whatever it was it should better stop sooner than later because she some things to do, her boyfriend Pablo for example.

Y/N and Pablo have been boyfriend and girlfriend for about a month now, everything was going great, the chemistry between them was awesome, and they were still really deep in their honeymoon phase.

Still, they need to get used to each other, not wanting to scare the other one off they try to do everything that involves the other as perfectly as possible.

Now Y/N was about to get out of bed when she felt a stabbing pain in her lower abdomen, rushing to the bathroom her fear was confirmed, she got her period.

"Oh come on ... you're a week too soon" complained Y/N cleaning herself up and reaching for a tampon.

Coming out of the bathroom she felt horrible, her abdomen was punishing her with the worst cramps she felt in a while and her head was killing her. Going into the kitchen she starts to boil water for her heating pad as she turns around to open the fridge she sees the red circle on her calendar.

Today her and Pablo were supposed to go to this new nightclub that opened last week, he wanted her to meet a few of his friends today, but knowing her body she was going to feel horrible for the rest of the day.

Feeling really guilty she thought about what she should do, calling Pablo and telling him how horrible she felt and him probably being very disappointed, or her still going but most likely not enjoying the evening and making a bad impression on his friends, which then again leads to Pablo being disappointed in her.

Sighing she presses Pablo's contact calling him.

"Hola amor what's up" Pablo answers after two rings.

"Hola bebé I think I need to cancel today, I'm feeling really sick today and I don't want to ruin everyone's evening," she says while sitting down on the couch rubbing her abdomen.

"Oh no ... you want me to come over? I could look after you", Pablo asks with genuine concern.

Wanting nothing more than be cuddled up in Pablo's arms while he looks after her she still declines, "No baby you don't have to it's not that bad" She winces at the end of her sentence as a really bad cramp surges through her.

"Are you sure, you do not sound good ... are you in pain?" not convinced by her statement he asks her.

"No! ... well yes, kind of. It's just ... I'm on my period and everything kind of hurts" Convinced he is going to be disgusted she mumbles the last part.

"Oh poor thing, I'm definitely coming over ... I've seen how much my sister suffers from that. I'm not leaving you alone in your misery ." He exclaims with an affectionate tone.

Touched by his statement she cuddles herself deeper into the couch hearing him say he is going to be there in thirty minutes, as he has to do a few things before he can come.

Unbeknownst to Y/N Pablo called his sister asking her what he should do now because, to be honest, he had no clue where he should even start.

Being utterly confused why her brother was calling her out of nowhere asking what girls like on her period she tells him a few basic things everybody enjoys, chocolate, heated blankets, ...

After getting a few ideas from his sister he drove to the nearest store and bought a few snacks for her and a pair of fluffy socks he knows she loves so much.

He bought everything he thought she might need, and nearly emptied the whole sweets section. He drove to her house gently knocking on the front door.

"It's open!", he hears Y/N yell, and as he opens the door he sees a pale-looking Y/N cuddled under her favourite blanket all in all looking pretty sick. The sight breaks his heart, placing the bags from his shopping trip beside the couch. He kneels before her kissing her head.

"Oh amor ... you really don't feel good, do you?" stroking her head he sees her shaking her head groaning as another cramp hits.

Lifting the shopping bags he exclaims softly, "I brought you some snacks, I didn't know what to get you so I just grabbed a few of my favorite comfort snacks"

Smiling softly Y/N looks into the bag seeing lots of different types of food from sweet to sour everything was there.

"Thank you that's perfect" being really touched by his actions tears start to form in her eyes.

„Hey Bebé ... it's ok no need to cry" wiping the tears away with his thumb Pablo kisses her nose earning himself a teary giggle.

„I'm sorry it's just that ... you're like the sweetest person I've ever met. Nobody ever brought me snacks while I'm on my period or cared for me like that"

„Well then it's time we change that ... scooch over I want some cuddles."

Scooching over Pablo climbs behind her so he's sitting up and she has her back to his chest, hearing her groan in pain again he asks;" Is there anything I can do to help you with the pain?"

Thinking for a short while Y/N answers, " Yes there actually is." Taking his hands she brings them to her abdomen, "Just hold your hands there please, your warmth will ease the cramps."

Nodding Pablo holds her abdomen with his hands starting to massage it after some time, hearing Y/N sigh he smiles to himself looking down and seeing her cuddle herself deeper into him.

"You comfy?" he asks her with a smile. Looking up at him with an adorable little smile she nods wrapping her arms around his.

"Don't you have to go soon, otherwise you'll be late to meet up with your friends." looking up at him Y/N  asks Pablo.

"I said they can go without me, I'd rather be with my girl anyways." kissing her head he answers.

"Really? ... Awww you're so sweet when you want to" she exclaims, gasping Pablo looks at her. "What's that supposed to mean!?"

Giggling Y/n gives Pablo a kiss before cuddling herself into him again, falling asleep not much later, in the safety of her boyfriends' arms who she grows to love more and more every day.