#i did 15 minutes of work before i crashed

[katherine-fisk]

// Would anyone like to do my job today so I can get some rest? Being dehydrated on top of sick is not helping.

[onyourstageleft]

im swearing off edibles I was so high last night that I laid in bed scrolling tumblr nonstop for almost Three Full Hours

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

 Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

[phefics]

veritaserum

ship: fred weasley x reader x george weasley summary: fred and george dose the reader with a truth serum, which leads to her admitting a sexual fantasy including both brothers. warnings: dubious consent (truth potion is used to make the reader admit her sexual fantasies which then play out), pseudo-inc3st (the twins don't do anything sexual to each other but are both involved in the same sexual scenario), gender-neutral!reader (reader has a vagina but no pronouns are used) word count: 1.9k

Being friends with the Weasley twins was a constant rollercoaster.

There was never a dull moment, always an adventure to go on, a prank to pull, or witty banter bouncing between you and the brothers. Sometimes, you were helping Fred and George pull off their next big joke, but other times, you were their target. Sure, it could be frustrating, but it was also fun for you, and you always found ways to get them back.

You had been friends with the twins since your first year at Hogwarts, and that friendship had continued past Hogwarts and followed you into early-adulthood. You visited them at the flat over their shop in Diagon Alley often, where they showed you prototypes for new products and made you laugh until you cried with their antics.

It was a cold evening when you appeared in their fireplace, a bit dusty from the ashes, and were greeted with excited shouts from Fred and George before being pulled into a group hug.

As you looked up at their grinning faces, you couldn’t believe that there were people who still got the twins confused.

Fred had more freckles on his face, while George’s shoulders and arms had an abundance of them. When Fred laughed, he threw his head back, cackling loudly, while George usually gave more reserved chuckles, laughing down at his lap. And, well, George was fully missing an ear now, and Fred had a large scar on his temple from the Battle, where a piece of castle wall had crashed down on top of him.

“Finally,” Fred said, man-handling you onto the couch. “We’ve been waiting ages!”

“I’m only a few minutes late,” you replied, glancing at their clock, which wasn’t even working—it read 3:15, but it was well past 7:00 judging by the darkness outside.

“And are our few minutes not important to you?” George asked, sitting by your side. “We could have been using that time to come up with more brilliant inventions.”

“Or planned a clever scheme to spill a bucket of water on your head when you arrived,” Fred added.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your precious time,” you said, tone thick with sarcasm.

It was nice catching up with them. They updated you on each member of the Weasley family, such as Fleur’s pregnancy with her and Bill’s first child, or Percy’s upcoming wedding. You updated them on your own life as well, and it wasn’t long until they had pushed a glass of Firewhiskey into your hands.

“So, Y/N,” Fred said, leaning against the back of the couch. You immediately recognized the glint of mischief in his brown eyes, and braced yourself for whatever ridiculous question he was about to pose.

“Which of us do you think is the better looking twin?”

You opened your mouth, intending to say something like ‘neither of you’ or ‘you’re identical—what kind of stupid question is that?’ but the sentence that spilled from your lips instead was, “Well, you look pretty much the same, so I’d say you guys are equally attractive. I think the scar makes you look pretty hot, Fred, but George can really pull off the whole missing ear thing.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, face burning.

The twins both erupted into giggles.

“Oh, you’re too kind!” George said. “I’m glad you find my lack of an ear sexy.”

“And my scar is flattered,” Fred added.

“What did you two do?” you asked, scowling.

“We might have stumbled upon a vial of Veritaserum…” George said, trying and failing to look guilty. “And put it in your drink. Just a drop, though! It’ll wear off soon.”

You wanted to insult them, yell at them, call them every insult and curse under the sun, but no words would leave your tongue. It was like the truth serum wouldn’t even let you pretend to be pissed off. Sure, this was an invasion of your privacy and totally sketchy, but you had known Fred and George for so long, you were sort of used to their antics by now. You should have been way angrier than you were, but it was just so typical of them, you couldn’t muster much more than annoyance.

What you did manage to say was, “Why?”

Both twins shrugged.

“For fun,” Fred said.

“And because we were curious about something,” George replied.

“About what?”

“About which of us you like better.”

You blinked at them. “Are you serious? We aren’t eleven anymore. Is it really a contest between you two to be the better twin?”

“Not really, no,” Fred said. “Even though we all know that it's me.”

George reached over you to playfully shove his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not about proving anything. We’re just curious. So, Y/N, who do you like better: me or Freddie?”

“I like you equally,” you said. “You are both hilarious, intelligent, and my best friends. I find it easier to connect with George on serious things, but Fred always knows the right thing to say when I need cheering up.”

Your face was flushing deeper, embarrassed at the cheesy, sentimental words that left your mouth. Fred and George had grown up in an incredibly loving, affectionate family and had never shied away from making their love known, but it was awkward to voice your own feelings out loud like that.

Both twins seemed rather touched, though

“Wow, I was expecting you to have to pick,” Fred said. “But that’s oddly sweet.”

You groaned. “Okay, okay, yes, I love you both, can we knock this off now?”

“No, we have more questions!”

“Such as…?”

“Would you fuck either of us?” George asked.

Fred was normally the more vulgar of the two, and the question coming from George’s lips instead took you even more off guard.

“Yes,” you said, unable to stop yourself. “Either of you. Or both of you.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes.”

Fred and George also showed their emotions differently. Fred was better at keeping his feelings to himself, but when he was flustered, his ears would turn pink. His ears had flushed slightly, and his eyes were wide as he licked his lips, clearly intrigued by your answer. George was also flushed, but the color went to his face, and he brushed his thumbs repeatedly over his thighs, a nervous tick he’d always had.

“Have you thought about this a lot?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell us how you’d want it.”

You couldn’t help but answer. “I would let you strip off my clothes, groping me. One of you is behind me, kissing my neck as you take off my shirt. The other is at my feet, pulling my pants down. Neither of you shut up the whole time, talking about me like I’m not even there. Commenting to each other about how pretty I am, how wet my pussy is for you. Whoever is between my legs starts to go down on me, while the other holds my body still so I can’t move away from how good it feels. I cum on your tongue, and the other wants a turn, too…”

The twins were both clearly aroused as you spoke.

“Do you want that? Now?” Fred asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” you breathed. 

They waste no time switching their positions on the couch, George pulling your back against his chest while Fred positions himself between your legs, his hands eagerly moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging at it.

George took his time, hands sliding up your shirt, touching softly as he felt you up, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, lips teasing the skin there.

You couldn’t help but whine under their touches, loving every moment of it. You had truly dreamt of this for years, always too afraid to ruin the friendship. Sure, you had kissed both twins for dares back at school, but this was real and intimate and beautiful.

Fred made quick work of getting your bottom half undressed, and he kissed his ways along your thighs, cupping your ass with one hand, squeezing hard.

“So fuckin’ hot,” George breathed.

“I know, right?” Fred replied. “So good for us, too. Are we making your fantasy come true, love?”

You nodded, whimpering softly.

“So needy, too. You want to cum for us?”

You nodded again. “Yes, yes please.”

George chuckled, nipping at your ear as Fred’s mouth finally reached your pussy, his tongue licking tentatively at you before he found your clit, which he immediately focused his attention on.

Your noises only grew louder, more desperate.

“Already? You’re not very good at this whole build-up thing, Freddie,” George said.

“I think we’ve waited long enough for this,” Fred replied before returning to his task.

“You don’t want to be patient, do you, darling?” George asked, hugging you tightly from behind. “You’ve wanted this for so long, you just want to be good for us, take everything we’ve got?”

“Fuck yes,” you moan.

Fred was clearly just as eager as you are, apparently trying to make you cum as quickly as possible, like he was placing bets in his head.

“You like that, hm? Is he good at it? Making you feel good?” George said.

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Good. You gonna cum for him?”

“Yes, yes, I’m—”

It didn’t take long at all. Fred’s tongue was good for more than just witty comments, and your legs trembled as he sat up, lips shining with your slick and a smug smile on his face.

“I think this is the part where we switch jobs, Georgie.”

Your pussy was already so wet, so sensitive, you knew that George would be able to make you cum fast, too. It was almost embarrassing how easy you were, how turned on they made you.

The twins switched positions, and Fred wrapped his arms around your middle sweetly, dragging his fingers over your waist and making goosebumps spread over your abdomen, squirming in his grasp.

“Don’t try and get away, sweet thing,” Fred said. “Otherwise George won’t be able to have his turn. Just be good for us, okay? Be a good little slut.”

You whined, face hot as George’s lips found your inner thighs and kissed the skin there, slowly, teasingly. He was the more patient, more methodical of the two. He wasn’t going to go straight for your clit, he was going to keep you wanting. Maybe until you begged.

Fred began sucking a hickey into your throat, leaving you a moaning mess as the twins both worshiped your body like it was something sacred.

Finally, George’s tongue found your pussy, teasing your hole and folds before even bothering to touch your clit.

“Should he put his fingers inside you?” Fred asked.

You nodded fervently, thrusting your hips.

George complied immediately, sliding one finger inside which was quickly followed by a second, pumping slowly before curling into that special spot, which he had found surprisingly easily.

Your second orgasm came just as quickly as the first, your hands balling into fists and your toes curling. Once your body was able to relax, you looked up through teary eyes to see George licking your taste off of his fingers.

“Was that everything you dreamed?” Fred asked.

You opened your mouth, expecting the answer to roll off your tongue, but it didn’t. You realized that the potion had worn off, and smirked.

“It could have been better,” you said, thrilled with your ability to lie again.

Obviously, Fred and George had to remedy that immediately.

[helen-with-an-a]

You always have an excuse

Hi. So this is a request and I really liked the idea. Hopefully, I did it justice. I hope you enjoy

Barca Femeni x reader

Description: R always has excuses but eventually slips up.

Part 1 : Part 2

Word Count: 3.8k

Shit. Shit. Shit. You were late. You were so late. But it wasn’t your fault; indeed, honestly, it wasn’t your fault. Your parents were not the greatest at being parents. They had you when they were just 16 and far too young to be having children. Sure, they paid for your football stuff and gave you a lot of what you asked for, but it was to keep you quiet and out of the house. You didn’t mind too much. It was easier when you only had to look out for yourself, never telling your parents where or who you were with. You always had a range of excuses ready for anyone who asked – lying and telling your friend’s parents that someone else would be taking you home, saying your mum was just around the corner, she had work so couldn’t come to your matches. It was fine. You knew nothing different.

You signed for La Masia when you were 10. The training was intense, but you loved it. You thrived under the pressure, quickly working your way up the ranks. Your debut for the first team happened shortly before your 16th birthday. You had never felt prouder of yourself.

“And here we have it. At just 15 years old, Y/F/N Y/S/N, making her debut for FC Barcelona Femeni. She’s homegrown, working her way up La Masia ranks. She is definitely a future star.” The commentator said as you made your way onto the pitch. This is what you have been dreaming of since you discovered football. This was the dream that only some people achieved. And you were one of them. A professional footballer. Your life’s goal was achieved.

The game was an easy win. The other team was fighting a relegation battle, as Barca slipped 10 goals past their keeper.

“Vamos,” Patri shouted as she shook you by the shoulders. “A debut and a brace. Is that a Ballon d’Or I see in your future?” You laughed as she wrapped you in a fierce hug.

“Neña, what a performance, hey?” Mapi called as Alexia affectionately hit the back of your head.

“Where’s your Mamí? I’m sure she wants to see you after that performance.” You didn’t even bat an eyelid as you smiled sweetly at Marta

“Oh, she said we’d meet outside by the main gates – saves us from trying to find each other on the pitch and in the crowd.” You waved at the chaos surrounding you. You knew your mother was nowhere near the football stadium – you doubted she even knew you had a football match, let alone your senior debut. It was easy to slip away from the changing rooms; you had significant practice doing it most of your life.

And now you were running so, so late. You had woken up on time, but the food in the house looked a little off, so you rushed to get something from the bakery on your way to the bus stop. But the line was bigger than anticipated, so you were rushing to catch the bus. A man walking in the other direction wasn’t paying attention and crashed into you, causing you to drop your stuff and spill hot coffee all over yourself. That had disrupted your flow, and you missed the bus, having to wait 5 minutes for the next one, which wasn’t a big deal. However, the metro system was delayed. And now you were 10 minutes behind, and then the bus you were supposed to catch from the metro station to the training centre never showed up, so you had to catch an alternative one, making you 30 minutes late. You had texted Jona to tell you you were running late but you knew you had laps waiting for you when you actually got there. You arrived at the pitch hot, sweaty, and tired. This was not an ideal start to the morning.

It was a known ‘Alexia Rule’ that every minute late to practice without a reasonable excuse was a lap. As you arrived at the huddle, one boot on, one still in your hand and your shirt stained with coffee, you could tell she was unimpressed. With all your rushing, you had forgotten to think of an excuse. You didn’t want to tell her the real reason; you had a feeling ‘Oh, sorry Alexia, I’m late because my parents are really shitty, forget they have a kid sometimes, and they haven’t been home in over a week, and the food in the fridge looked a little funky’ would not go down too well. She arched an eyebrow at you.

“Um …” You floundered, thinking about what to say. You could tell her the semi-truth that the metro was delayed and you had missed the buses, but they thought you got dropped off at the top of the road by your dad on the way to work. You could tell them there was traffic, but they all drove, so they knew you were lying.

“You have 30 laps to run at the end of training,” Alexia had a stern voice that you knew meant she was serious. 30 laps? That was basically 10k. Your eyes widened to comically sized proportions. 45 minutes of running around in a circle … after training? She was trying to kill you; you were convinced of it.

“You can’t be serious?” You gawked at her. Her other eyebrow rose to join the other one.

“Deadly.” She said icily and walked away.

Holy fuck. You were really, royally fucked this time. You were so dead. You had to miss training. But again, it hadn’t been your fault. The boiler had broken in your house, which wasn’t a big deal – it was late spring in Barcelona, and you didn’t need heating. But you did need the hot water. You had tried to ask your parents to stay home whilst someone fixed it, knowing that you had training and they could definitely work from home for a day. They had dismissed you with a flippant wave of their hands and continued what they were doing. You phoned the company, asking them to come and fix it as soon as possible. But, as expected, they told you they would be there before lunch, which was the best they could offer. It was now 2.30pm, and there was no sign of them. You had texted Jona this morning, offering a weak excuse of feeling a little rough. You hadn’t expected him to tell Alexia that you were feeling bad, and it sounded like you were home alone.

The knock on the door had you running towards it – thinking it was the person coming to fix the boiler. “Gracias, Gracias. Es el …” You rushed the explanation, not realising that it was not a plumber but rather your irate captain. You froze as you looked up. Shit.

“You look fine, neña. You don’t look like you’ve … what was it? Ah, yes, ‘picked up a little something’.” She was far too calm. You could see her anger bubbling under the surface, though.

“Ale, I-” you tried to explain.

“No, no quiero escucharlo,” she cut you off, a hand raising to stop you. “You lied. You skipped training. Was it worth it? Was it so much more important than training?” She hadn’t bothered to come into the house, standing at your front door, a bag of things meant to help you feel better in her hand. “Here,” she shoved it at you. “You’re on the bench until you can prove that you want to be a part of Barcelona Femeni.” And with that, she stormed off.

Tears welled in your eyes. She hadn’t let you explain … but what could you say? ‘Sorry, Ale, my parents are arseholes and don’t realise that I have a life and a job as well’? ‘Sorry, Ale, I had to wait for the plumber to come and fix our heating and hot water, and no, my parents – the adults in the house – couldn’t do it because they think their time is so much more important than mine’? ‘Sorry, Ale, I’m currently trying to raise myself, and whilst I’m usually ok at it, sometimes I fuck up’? You couldn’t say those things to her. You couldn’t tell her how tough your life could be sometimes … most of the time. You couldn’t tell her that your parents don’t even know you have a game, let alone watch it or attend it. You couldn’t tell her you often wake up in an empty house for weeks because your parents jetted off somewhere again. You couldn’t tell her that you doubt your parents could even tell you your full name and birthday.

She thought you didn’t want to be a part of Barca. Barca was your saving grace. Barca was the only thing that got you out of bed. The friendships you made were the closest thing to a normal family you had. Jana, Vicky, Martina, Patri, Claudia, Bruna, Esmee, Salma … they were your crazy cousins, always making you laugh and willing to go along with your mad ideas. Ona, Aitana, Lucy, Cata, Mapi … they were your big sisters, always protecting you on and off the pitch and lightly teasing you. Ingrid, Caro, Keira, Mariona, Frido … they were the calming aunts that helped you through any predicament. Marta, Paños, Irene … Alexia … they were your motherly figures, the people you could always rely on to love you regardless of what else was happening in your life. Did they think you didn’t want to be there? Barcelona was the single most greatest thing that had ever happened to you.

You looked at the bag Alexia had shoved at you. It was full of healthy smoothies, nutritious snacks, and your favourite chocolates. You could even see a soft teddy instructing you to ‘Get Well Soon’. It made you sob even harder. Eventually, you moved to the sofa. Once you started crying, you couldn’t stop. You cried over everything – disappointing Alexia, having no hot water, being benched, your parents' dislike of you, your seeming lack of support system, how you appeared to fuck up the one good thing in your life. You cried yourself to sleep on the sofa, clutching the bag to your chest and feeling so incredibly sorry for both you and the girls you had failed.

The next morning, you looked horrific – puffy, red eyes, dishevelled hair, blotchy skin. You didn’t even try to hide it as you made your way to the bus stop, ignoring the weird looks thrown your way. You were in a daze as you walked through the metro system and onto the second bus, forgetting to hurry down the side alleys instead of the main road. You didn’t see Ingrid’s car as it drove past you, a concerned Mapi, Ingrid, Ona, and Lucy in it.

“Era que?” Mapi asked, pointing over her shoulder.

“Y/N? Sí, fue” Ona nodded.

“Why, though? She said she gets dropped off by her dad on his way to work.” Ingrid was just as perplexed. You seemed to know exactly where you were going and had stepped off the bus with an ease only known to someone who took the same route every day.

“Maybe it was a one-off? He couldn’t take her today, so she had to get the bus? Although I don’t know why she wouldn’t just ask one of us – she lives on most of our routes to work.” Lucy pondered, all of them confused over you.

“Hey,” Ingrid said as you walked into the changing rooms. You didn’t even smile at her, just nodding and moving to your cubby. “Um … so, how come you were on the bus?” You froze. How did she know you got the bus?

“It’s just that we saw you as we were driving in. If you needed a lift, you could’ve just asked; you know we’d all be more than happy to —” Ona explained.

“Yeh, my d-dad only told me this morning that he couldn’t take me the whole way, so … he dropped me off near the metro, and I just got the bus from there,” you lied, rushing to gather your boots and head to the pitch. It was a blatant lie. Your voice was too high, and your hands shook slightly as you tried to devise a realistic excuse.

“Todas sabemos que era una mentira, verdad?” Mapi looked around as the door swung shut.

The following month in training was awkward, to say the least. After your slip-up with the bus, you made sure to take the earlier trains, getting to training before most people had even left their beds. You figured you’d use the time to prove to Alexia and the others that you wanted to be there. You were still benched, but your name was still on the game day sheet, so you liked to believe they weren’t thinking of selling you or cancelling your contract after the season ended. The issue was getting home. If you stayed late, you were often questioned, but if you were seen walking out of the car park, you were also questioned. You really needed to learn how to drive ... quickly.

Eventually, Jona could no longer justify you sitting on the bench. Barca had the Champions League semi-finals coming up, and everyone noted your absence on the pitch.

“Y/N, you will be playing the next match. You’re going to be a sub around 60 or 70 minutes.” It was a short announcement, but you couldn’t help your heart soar. Did this mean they finally believed you when you said that Barca was the best thing that happened to you? Alexia still hadn’t looked at you since That Day, but she was no longer actively seething, which you took as a win. But now you would be playing in the home leg of the Champions League semi-finals. You were nervous, but not because of the match; you were on a 0 – 3 aggregate, and you were going to be playing at Camp Nou – it was an almost guaranteed win –but because you knew the team would be more suspicious of your lack of parents.

You decided to do what you always did – never look to the crowd, do a lap of the stadium for the fans, hurry back into the changing rooms, and slip away. Simple. Easy. You had been doing it all your life. But you hadn’t accounted for how attentive the team would be. They watched you wearily from a distance, concerned when you made no effort to look to the friends and family section during warm-ups or after the match when everyone usually went to see their loved ones. You stayed back, signing more things for fans, and then headed straight to the tunnel. After the celebration in the changing rooms, you gathered your things and disappeared before anyone could bring them up. You had mastered the art of vanishing like a ghost after matches.

But now it was the final. It was obviously an away game, but everyone’s family came. Even the coaching staff brought their loved ones. Not you, though. Your parents hadn’t known you’d left the country, let alone understood that you were playing in the most prestigious match in Europe for clubs. You were in the Starting XI, but you weren’t nervous. You knew you could win this match; this Champions title was yours for the taking. You didn’t realise that the fact that you had no family would be exposed the minute the final whistle went.

You played the full 90 minutes and an extra 5 for injury time. You were exhausted, but that didn’t matter as soon as the clock ran out. You had done it. Champions of Europe. The screams and shouts were so loud it hurt your ears, but you didn’t care. You felt unstoppable.

“Vamos, pequeña. Donde esta tu mamí? Quiero finalmente conocer a la mujer a la que debemos agradecer por regalarle al mundo contigo.” Mapi said as you sat on the grass, your medal around your neck.

“Más tarde. I just want to sit here and soak this all in.” You waved her away. She took you at your word but made meaningful eyes at Alexia, having an unspoken conversation as you moved away. Alexia watched as you leaned back, resting on your arms, legs outstretched, and eyes shut – head tilted to feel the sun on your skin. She waited for 10 minutes, watching you make no effort to see your family. It was the first thing she had done after the trophy celebration. She had run straight to her mother and sister, thanking them profusely for all their sacrifices and expressing so much gratitude towards them – throwing her sweaty body at them and tackling them into long, tight hugs.

“Do you want to see your family now?” It was the first non-football-related words she’d said to you in well over a month.

“No, I’m ok. I’ll see them later,” you dismissed her quickly.

“Do you know where they are? We could bring them down onto the pitch if you don’t want to stand up.” She wasn’t letting this go. She had an inkling that she hoped was wrong.

“It’s alright, Ale. Honestly. I’m fine sitting here, soaking this all up by myself.” You hadn’t opened your eyes, so you had assumed from the quietness she had moved away. “It’s not like you’d find them anyway,” you whispered as an unwanted tear escaped you.

“Qué quieres decir, cariño?” Your eyes snapped open, coming face to face with Alexia, Ona and Keira. You sat up, trying to hide your face.

“Oh, noth-”

“No me mientas. Dónde están tu mamí y papí?” Alexia asked sternly. You misunderstood her, thinking she was angry at you. You shook your head, refusing to answer.

“Neña, are your parents here?” Ona asked quietly, coming to sit next to you. You took a deep breath.

“No. They aren’t.”

“Do you want to phone them?” Keira suggested, hoping that it was just because they couldn’t take time away from work to attend in person. She also sat down, gesturing her phone to you as an invitation to use it. You took another deep breath.

“I don’t think they even know I had a football match, let alone a Champions League final.” Another tear slipped down your cheek. Alexia sat in front of you, reaching for your hands.

“Qué quieres decir?” She asked again, thumbs rubbing gently over the backs of your hands.

“My parents … I don’t really know how to say it,” you paused, Ona gently rubbing your back comfortingly. “My parents don’t really … parent?” You chuckled lightly.

“They don’t support you?” Keira asked, her hand resting on your knee.

“They don’t care enough. They leave for weeks on end without telling me. I get food and stuff like that on my own. I’m basically raising myself at this point. I don’t think they know I have a contract with Barca. I doubt they even know I play football. They just let me do whatever I wanted as long as I was out of the house, not causing trouble and quiet; they didn’t care. They’re lucky I haven’t turned into a criminal or something.” You tried to add a joke to lighten the mood.

“But you said you meet up with your parents after home matches,” Ona couldn’t imagine achieving half the things she did without her family supporting her from the sidelines.

“And you told us your dad drops you off every morning on the way to work,” Keira added, equally disbelieving – her parents were her biggest fans.

“Yeh, I lied. I just go home after matches. And I get the metro to training.”

“But training is nowhere near the metro, and you don’t live near a metro station either.” She still didn’t want to consider what you were saying to be true.

You explained, “I get a bus from mine to the metro and then a bus from the metro to training.”

“That’s why you were getting off the bus that day when we saw you,” Ona realised. She hadn’t trusted your story but had considered no other possibilities.

“That’s why you're late to training sometimes? Because of the buses and trains?” Alexia asked, her hands never leaving yours.

“Yeh.” You looked down, ashamed of your situation and lying to them.

“And that day when you missed training. You weren’t sick. What happened?”

“I … um … the boiler broke, so I had to wait for someone to come fix it. Which they never did, by the way. I had to phone some random company that massively overcharged me, and the water definitely doesn’t get as hot as it used to.” You babbled nervously. “It wasn’t because I don’t want to be at Barca. It’s the only thing that keeps me going, knowing that I have you guys looking out for me. It makes everything else seem not as bad,” you whispered, needing them to know just how important Barca was to you. You looked around. Patri and Pina tried to do the perfect chest bump as Jana and Bruna filmed. Lucy was chasing her niece and nephew. Ingrid and Mapi were with Ingrid’s parents, smiling widely as they talked. Marta and Caro were sat off to one side, talking quietly. You could see the others dotted around the stadium, talking to fans, speaking to parents, and enjoying the support.

“Cariño, I am so sorry,” Alexia implored. I shouted at you and benched you. I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t believe you took Barca seriously.”

“Why didn’t you tell us, neña?” Ona asked.

“We only want what’s best for you, kid,” Keira added.

“Um … I don’t really know. It doesn’t really matter. It’s been like this my whole life, so…”

“Cariño. It does matter. But we know now, and that’s all that matters, sí?” Alexia stood up, dragging you with her. “Let’s go see my family. Mi Mamí has been asking to meet you for ages. And before you say no, she already has plans for you to come round for dinner one night. Y en secreto, ella siempre quiso una tercera hija.” She said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as Ona took your hand.

“Oh, Eli will have to fight my Mama on that one, Ale. She always wanted a goal-scoring daughter.”

“Well, my mum says you are more than welcome to stay at her house if you ever visit the UK as long as you cook her paella.” Keira smiled.

Maybe your biological family was shite, but your found one certainly wasn't.

I hope you liked it <3

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

The Wayne boys most days without sleep before they finally crashed (two manage to beat out Batman)

Tim Drake - 12 days

Tim fidgets with his hands while staring at a wall.

Tim: All around the mulberry the monkey chased the weasel da da da da-

An alarm goes off a second later.

Tim: POP GOES THE WEASEL!

Kara, Kon and Bernard look on concerned.

Kara: Hey, Tim how long you been awake?

Tim, rocking back and forth: 288 hours.

Kara: 200 and what?

Kon: You've been awake for 12 days?!

Bernard: Again Tim?

Kara & Kon: Again?!

Bernard: I've seen it before.

Tim: Seen it before and I can go longer. The first record holder stayed up for 12 days. I can go longer. I can go longer. I can. Batman can't even do that!

Tim cackles rocking back and forth.

Tim: Coffee helps especially when you replace it with all other liquids.

Tim grabs a large cup of coffee as his hands shake vigorously.

Bernard, rubs his boyfriend's back.

Bernard: Timmy, let's take you home okay?

Tim: Home, no home. I fall sleep. Sleep for the weak... Did you know if you look at the walls long enough, new people appear.

Tim waves, laughing nervously then tenses horrified.

Tim: Their face is contorting again!

Bernard: Let's take you away from the scary... Invisible person and get you home to rest.

Bernard takes Tim's hand and takes him out of the Dunkin donuts.

Kara: I could not handle dating a batkid.

Kon nods.

Kon: I dated him for a while, I agree.

...

Dick Grayson - 18 days and 15 minutes

Kori and Beast Boy walk into the titans living room. Raven is meditating.

Kori: Where's Dick at?

Raven: Outside counting blades of grass.

Kori: Counting blades of grass?

Beast boy: Oh Jesus, has he been staying awake for days at a time again?

Raven nods with her eyes closed.

Raven: He'll crash at any second, but he thought being outside with the sun would 'revitalize' him.

Beast Boy: That's not- I'll be back.

Beast Boy goes outside where Grayson is actually counting blades of grass. BB walks over to him. He taps his foot. Grayson looks up, his eyes widen and one twitching.

Dick: Hey- Hey- Hey buddy. Did you know we have one hundred thousand blades of grass. I- Did you change colors?

BB: What color do you think I am?

Grayson squits his eyes.

Dick: Blue.

BB: All right we're on that color, how long you been awake for buddy?

Dick: I stopped sleeping last Wednesday... Then a week passed... Then another, that was 14, now it's Saturday of the second week.

Beast Boy arms crossed, sighs and walks off to re-enter the tower.

BB: 18 days this time.

Beast Boy walks away as Kori is shocked.

Raven: He's surpassing the world record holder. Also his brain might be dying.

Kori: Might be?!

Raven: He's a batkids, their brains are made of steel or something.

Kori: I have one trick that usually knocks him out-

Raven: I know it's sex.

Kori, giggles: Yes, but he falls asleep on top of me every time.

Raven sighs shaking her head while Beast Boy leaves the house with a water bottle.

Beast Boy: Right, I'm going to give him this sleep juice Alfred sent us. He says it knocks them out in a few seconds.

Raven: Smart choice.

Beast Boy: Thanks.

...

Jason Todd - 4 days

Jason: I can't sleep.

Roy: How long have you been awake?

Jason: About four days. Man I tried to go to sleep, but my body physically won't let me sleep!

Roy: Well you have been drinking Red Bulls every other hour. You're too focused on the mission. Just go to sleep.

Jason shakes his head while rocking back and forth.

Jason: Can't sleep... Won't sleep... No sleep.

Roy thinks about a way to get him to sleep then smiles.

Roy: You know you're becoming just like your dad. That's good, he can go six days without sleep, maybe you'll-

Jason stands up and goes to another room, closes his door and falls into his bed to sleep.

Roy: Works every time.

...

Damien - 1 day

Damien: I don't want to go to sleep! No!

Damien kicks his feet as Bruce drags him to bed.

Bruce: Nope, you stayed awake for 24 hours. That's it. Go to bed!

Damien: You're so unfair!

Bruce: You're not depriving yourself of valuable sleep- Alfred shut up!

Alfred, who is reading a book about sleep disorders, smirks and then walks away.

[ningvory]

♡ payback ┊ yu jimin & uchinaga aeri

parings — meangirls!kariselle x loser!femreader

synopsis — after telling them to shut up, you quickly became their next target on their list. except you don't back down to them and actually fight back. so what better option do they have besides making you their pretty fuck doll? they like to call this payback.

warnings — college au, dubcon, aphrodisiac, pussy eating, degrading, fingering, facesitting, tribbing, bullying..duh, blackmail, they’re lowk pervs, pet names like pretty girl, baby, kinda proofread i was dosing off😭

w/c — 1.8k (1,865)

yu jimin and uchinaga aeri, known as karina and giselle to those who aren’t close to them, are the campus’s mean girls. well known for their beauty and of course, for bullying anyone who even dares to look at them in a way they dislike, you didn’t know much about them and you honestly didn’t card. the staff didn’t give a shit, they knew that if they even bothered to try and stop the bullying they could easily buy their way out of trouble.

unfortunately you happen to be the next target on their list. when you told them to simply, “shut the fuck up.” when you all were taking a quiz. from that day forward, they were never gonna let forget who they were. they consider it karma.

they started to poke fun at you, doing what they always do to their targets. pushing you into lockers, holding your books in the air knowing that you can’t reach them, calling you names, taking embarrassing photos of you and threatening that they would post it everywhere but they don’t mean it really, they let you slide because they think you’re cute.

you never really let them bully you that easily either, always fighting back when they would tournament you. they began getting frustrated because everything they did, you would always fight back. so what option do they have besides to fuck you dumb and make you a pretty fuck doll?

they wanted to fuck that attitude outta you, make you their personal cum dump and they always mean what they say.

you were walking outta your last class of the day, mentally exhausted and really just wanting to crash out on your bed. not expecting to be pinned to a locker in the empty hallways of the campus, letting out a small yelp when your back came in contact with the hard surface of the lockers behind you.

“hey y/nnie~ we really need help with our work. come over to our dorm room, i’ll text you what time to come!” karina said, her signature smile plastered on her face. the same one that can get her anything she wanted. she had you pinned to the wall with a soft grip until she pulled you closer to her, tightening her grip on your shoulders.

“you better be there. i think you know the consequences of disobeying us.” her voice was low and right by your ear causing you to shiver before she pulled you back to get a look at your face.

“see you later y/n!” karina said with her smile. a complete 180 of how she was before, acting as if she didn’t just force you to go to their dorm room.

—

you had to run some errands and you finally made it back to you dorm, putting your bag down and just laying on your bed. until you heard a ding! and a vibration from your phone, making you groan and roll over, knowing exactly who was texting you.

‘hey pretty girl, it’s giselle texting from rina’s phone :] it’s already 6 so come to our dorm at 8, dorm room is 1576 and make yourself look a little presentable.’

you sighed, closing your eyes really wanting to just stay in bed and chill. but you really didn’t want any more trouble from them, so you rolled out of bed with a sigh. walking over to your closet to pick something out.

after about 15 minutes you finally got your outfit together, wearing a black crop top and a simple miniskirt with your panda dunks. it was 7:54 so you had enough time to eat a snack before you walked out the door.

—

you started your mini journey to their door, it wasn’t exactly far but not close to yours either which you were honestly happy with. you were glad that your airpods were in your purse because you did not want to walk all the way back to your dorm to get them, you really couldn’t survive a day without music.

you arrived at their door it was right at 8:30. you double checked and made sure that this was the right dorm before knocking.

you went on your phone again until the door suddenly flung open and your hand being yanked inside.

“ah! y/n~ nice you came, didn’t know if you were coming.” karina spoke, bringing you into her embrace, it almost felt like she was intentionally pushing her tits into your face. you gave her a semi hug, patting her back with an awkward smile until she finally let go.

karina walked you over to their black couch, telling you to sit down while giselle gets you a drink. telling you that ‘we always give our guess a drink! don’t mention it.’ you were still as a statue, awkwardly looking around trying to figure out what exactly they brought you over for, it was obvious that they didn’t bring you over to help them with an assignment.

“sorry we had to lie, we just wanted to hang out! sure you won’t mind, right?” giselle walked over to you, giving you a glass full of and orange substance.

“y/n, relax! you’re so tense we’re not gonna bite you or something.” karina spoke, sitting down next to you while giselle turned the tv on and sat on the other side of you.

you just nodded before going to take a sip of your drink. you let out a hum, it actually tasted good. the mixture of the different fruits tasted nice, you took a bigger gulp, going to ask them where’d they get it from until you felt a hot sensation all over your body.

the two looked over at you, not expecting the aphrodisiacs to take over your body so quickly. but at least they knew it worked, and they weren’t complaining. they enjoyed your expression change, watching how you fidgeted uncontrollably and rubbed your warm thighs together, desperately trying to relieve the neediness that you suddenly felt.

you were sat there for a minute, praying that whatever you were feeling would go away. you started to watch the movie on their widescreen TV, trying to ignore the hot feeling all over.

the two smirked at each other before karina spoke out, “something wrong, baby?” her voice was low and sultry, forcing to lay down on the couch.

you started at her with a face that was just so cute to her, doe eyes looking up at her with your eyebrows knitted and a pout resting on your face. you swallowed, not knowing what to do until you felt a pair of hands spread your legs open and flick your skirt up. making you yelp at the coldness of the room, looking down to see giselle smirking back up at you.

“aw~ you’re soaked pretty girl, you’re so nasty!” giselle teased before rubbing your clothed clit. she had to hold your legs in place because you were just so jittery!

you weren’t a virgin but you weren’t someone who fucks or pleasures yourself often, but you’ve never been so desperate to cum. it’s so embarrassing you just wanted to go home and do it yourself.

giselle slides your panties off, looking in awe at the way your juices created a thick string that connected your cunt to your panties.

she raises your legs up and didn’t waste a moment, sucking on your sensitive clit and fingering your cunt. you desperately push her head away from you, it was so wrong for your bully to be going down in you! high pitched moans and whines of ‘this is wrong! s-stop!’ fell outta your mouth but the aphrodisiac had your body reacting in the opposite of your words. cunt spilling with your juices and desperately grinding your cunt on her face.

“you keep telling me to stop but your body seems to want this, pretty girl.” giselle said, pulling her face away from your cunt to undress herself.

“such a dumb girl, look at the camera.” karina giggled before grabbing your chin forcing your dazed eyes to look at the camera.

“wonder what your friends would think if they found out their friend was getting fucked stupid by her bullies..you know, you’re actually lucky you get to see us nude. people would die to be in the position.” karina added on, panning the camera down to your fat cunt before she stopped recording, undressing herself too.

karina shuffled to where she was hovering over your face, cunt on display for you to see. “your moans are so cute but so loud! i don’t wanna to get a noise complaint again so put that mouth to use, yeah?” she couldn’t even care to wait for your answer because next thing you know she’s putting all her weight on your face, her milky thighs crushing your head had you moaning and arching into your back.

“already so obedient f’me, you pain slut.” karina mustered out, barely able to speak because you’re going ham on her cunt.

this was probaly the best head she’s received because she was riding your face desperately, not even caring that she was full on suffocating you, her clit continuously bumped into your nose. you heard shuffling below you but you didn’t know what was going on until you felt your cunt being rubbed onto giselle’s fat cunny. she was grinding onto your cunt like her life depended on it and it had you moaning into karina’s cunt, making her let out surprised moans before she cummed all on your face and in your mouth.

she got off your face and coo’d, she couldn’t help but take a picture of your fucked out tear-stained face covered in her cum. you were far gone by now, back arched and eyes so far back, hands trying to grind yourself into her cunt because the pleasure felt so good! your moans mixed in with giselle’s lower moans until you let out a long high pitched whine, squirting everywhere, all over yours and her thighs.

you were crying and whining because it was starting to become too much for you, trying to push giselle off your cunt. you were so brain dead you were mumbling incoherent things, only words sounding coherent were ‘it’s too much’ but you were silenced quickly by karina’s tits being pushed in your face.

“you can take it. take what i give you until i cum, whore.” giselle grunted.

she began rubbing your clit, trying to make you squirt again and overstimulate you until you squirted again with a muffled moan. giselle finally came, cumming all over your cunt before smearing it all over your cunt and inside your hole. karina got off of you, taking in how fucked out you were before telling giselle to take pic.

“such a pretty cum dump,bet you liked every last bit of it you slut.” giselle taunted, spreading your legs wide open to take a picture of your cum covered cunt.

“the fun has just got started baby, let’s see how well you take being stuffed full of our dicks.” karina smiled at the look of horror on your face. you were in for a long night.

[mirisss]

SKZ reaction to their gf being in a car crash

SKZ OT8 x female! reader

SKZ reaction to their girlfriend being in a car crash and taking care of her

Thank you for the request, hope you like it! 

Wordcount ≈ 1.5k

Warnings: Car crash, broken leg, bruises, a little angsty, mentioning of anxiety, 

(Y/n)’s POV

“Hey, I’m going to be running a bit late. I have a bit left that I need to do on this project, so I’ll order some food and eat here,” “Are you sure? How late do you think you’ll have to stay?” “I’m not sure, Binnie, I think I need another 3 or 4 hours before I’m done,” “Mmm, okay, do you want some of us to come and pick you up?” “No, I’ll be fine and besides you guys have had a long day, I’ll text you guys when I leave,” “Alright, be careful,” “Love you,” “Love you, too,” 

After hanging up the call with Changbin, I got back to working on my project. If I did this project great then I could be in for a promotion at work. And if I got this promotion, my life as the girlfriend of a very successful kpop group would be a bit easier. With this promotion, I could go with them on tours, at least more than one stop. So I had to get it. I needed it. I ordered some food and got back to work, most of my colleagues had left the building leaving me and a handful of others behind. 

3 hours and 25 minutes later, I was finally finished. I submitted my project, packed up my things, sent a text to Seungmin as he was the last person I texted with, letting him now that I was leaving the building. I went down to the garage and got into my car. Seungmin responded as I started the car, saying he and all the others missed me and were waiting. 

I began driving, I couldn’t wait to get home to my boyfriends. I was exhausted and missed their embraces. I came to a stop light, the streets were surprisingly empty, even at this late hour the streets were usually filled with cars. The light turned green and I began driving, suddenly I noticed headlights of another car approaching from my left, the car was speeding, seemingly out of control, I realized that no matter what I did, we would collide, still I tried to step on my gas hoping the other car would miss me. The last thing I remember was a loud bang and feeling pain. 

Third Person POV

Over at the SKZ dorm, the boys were waiting eagerly for (Y/n) to come home. They had prepared snacks, blankets, and a movie. All of them ready for a cuddly movie night. They kept checking their phones and out the windows, expecitng to see either a call, a text, or (Y/n)’s car. Yet no matter how many times they checked they found nothing. 

“It’s been 30 minutes since she texted, it only takes 15 minutes here, and that’s on days when the traffic is bad,” Minho noted, concern evident on his face, his body was restless. Changbin was pacing around the room, feeling like he should have gone and picked her up even if she said it wasn’t necessary. “I’ll try calling her,” Hyunjin said as he held the phone up to his ear, whishing she would pick up, however he was disappointed as he was met with (Y/n)’s voice mail. 

“Her phone could be dead and she’s just buying snacks,” Han said, trying to be hopeful, yet his hands were shaking, his breathing irregular, anxiety taking over his body as he feared the worst had happened. “Yeah, she’s gonna come any second now, I feel it,” Felix said, he sat beside Han, trying to find comfort in his bandmate and boyfriend. Jeongin stood by the window, staring down at each passing car, analyzing each one to try and find the one belonging to his dear girlfriend. 

Another 30 minutes passed by, an hour since (Y/n) said she would be coming home. Yet there was no sign of her. A few minutes more passed by when Chan received a call from an unknown number, he answered it, half expecting it to be from a fan who had managed to get a hold of his number. He was surprised that the one on the other line was a doctor, or at least someone working at the hospital. 

“Hello, is this Bang Chan?” “Yes, who is this?” “I am calling from the hospital, your girlfriend (L/n) (Y/n) has been in an accident,” “WHAT?” The other boys all stood up, shaking with fear and worry at Chan’s shout. “There was a car accident, miss (L/n) is still being examined, could you come over to the hospital?” “Of course, I’ll, or we’ll be there as soon as we can,” “Only her boyfriend will be allowed inside the room,” Chan gave an awkward forced chuckled. “You see we’re in a poly relationship,” “Oh, I’m so sorry, of course all of you will be allowed inside then,” 

Chan hung up and explained to the other’s, they all left the dorm within a minute. Hearts racing, minds expecting the worst. Was she badly hurt? Was she even alive? Would she be okay? When they arrived at the hospital they all rushed to the front desk, asking for (Y/n). As they came upon the door that lead them to the room (Y/n) was in, a doctor just stepped out of it. “Excuse me, is (L/n) (Y/n), in there?” “Yes, might you be her boyfriends?” “Yes, doctor,” “She just woke up, she’s a bit shaken but she’ll be fine,” “How badly hurt is she?” “Considering the circumstances, not bad at all. She has a broken leg and some bruises over majority of her body, but other than that, she is physically fine, mentally though might be another story. First and foremost, she needs support from those who love her,” The doctor gave the boys a kind smile before she left, allowing the boys to step inside. 

“(Y/n), we were so worried,” Jisung began crying the second he layed eyes on her, the cast on her leg, the bruises on her arms and even her face, he just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. (Y/n) too began crying as she saw the worry and tears on her boyfriends’ faces. “I’m sorry,” “No, don’t apologize, darling, it wasn’t your fault,” Minho wiped away some of the tears that stained the girls cheek, his smile only causing her to cry more. Relieved to finally be within their presence again, close to the people she loves and feel safe with. 

2 hours later, (Y/n) was allowed to go home as the doctors had examined her and ruled out a concussion and other injuries. Bang Chan was given a long list of things that (Y/n) wasn’t allowed to do for a few days and how to care for her leg. Changbin had sent an email to (Y/n)’s boss, letting them know of the accident and that (Y/n) wouldn’t be able to work for 2 weeks, and after those 2 weeks she would only be able to work from home for another 2-3 weeks. 

(Y/n) was given crutches to use for moving around, she struggled a bit with them as she wasn’t used to it. In the end, to get out to the car, Felix and Seungmin ended up acting as her crutches, half carrying her. Jeongin sat beside (Y/n) in the car, holding her hand as she seemed a bit stressed over the situation. He could only imagine, she was just in an accident and now she had to go in a car again. “Hey, you’re okay, we’re here with you. Want me to sing to you?” (Y/n) couldn’t give a verbal answer but she simply nodded her head and squeezed his hand. 

Jeongin began singing lowly, the rest of the boys soon followed and joined in on singing, all to help (Y/n) calm down. (Y/n) closed her eyes and focused on the sweet voices of her boyfriends, the warmth they brought her overpowered her fear from the accident. Soon enough she felt her heart slow down and her breathing followed right after. Relaxation and safety soon consumed her mind as she focused on the singing. Before she knew it, the car was parked, they were home. The boys helped her out of the car and supported her all the way to their dorm. 

“Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ve got you,” Hyunjin said as he handed her some of the snacks they had prepared earlier. “I’m so happy I have all of you,” “We’re happy to have you too,” Felix answered. And so, the nine lovers spent the night cuddled up on the couch, finding safety in one another, happy that they get to experience tomorrow together.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

pleaseee kisses prompts 14, 15, and 33 with patrick zweig 🙏🫠

Sure :D

Prompts: An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it; a kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished; a fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

Warnings: Fluff; flirty Patrick; fake dating; smooches

Summary: Finding your plus one to a wedding at the last minute on Tinder had been dicey, sure, but you couldn't have anticipated this.

"Would you cut it out?"

"No." Patrick's refusal was muffled as he chowed down on another two mini crab cakes. You glanced around nervously, concerned that anyone you knew might see your plus one shoving every hors d'oeuvre that he could get his hands on into his mouth.

Finding your plus one to a wedding at the last minute on Tinder had been dicey, sure, but you couldn't have anticipated this.

The trade was straightforward: Patrick was your plus one to your friend's wedding, and you let Patrick shower at your place and crash at yours (or cover the cost of a motel for the night—he was cool with either).

But now, you were considering cutting ties early. If Patrick kept this up, then it defeated the whole fricking purpose of having him go with you in the first place. You didn't think that anything could be more embarrassing than showing up to a wedding alone while your ex was attending with his new girlfriend, but the way Patrick was stuffing his face was quickly proving you wrong.

"Seriously," You hissed, leaning in and elbowing him in the side, "You're either gonna choke, or I'm going to choke you."

Patrick grinned as he chewed, dusting off his fingers.

"Okay," He agreed before chasing the swallow with a swig of his beer. "Okay, you're right. I'll slow it down."

"Thank you."

"Need to save room for dinner, anyway. And cake. Are people still doing cake at weddings?"

"Sometimes."

"You think they will?"

"Honestly, they seem more like a dessert bar couple. They'll probably have a little cake for themselves."

"Explains why I haven't seen one." He folded his arms on the high table, glancing around the others mingling at cocktail hour. "Seen the ex yet?"

"No."

"You should've shown me a picture, I could keep an eye out for him, too."

"Better if you don't know what he looks like. Then you can be genuinely surprised if I introduce you."

"You don't trust my acting abilities?"

"With all due respect, you could be Ted Bundy 2.0 for all I know."

"Fake cast and missing puppy story not included."

You smiled in spite of yourself, and Patrick grinned.

"Tell me about yourself," He urged.

"What for?"

"Gotta pass the time somehow—especially if you're going to poo-poo me from the pu pu platter."

"There isn't a pu pu platter in sight."

"Can you just appreciate the joke?"

"It was a fine joke."

"C'mon. I mean, you're funny, you're gorgeous," He raised his hand, waving toward you, "Why does someone like you need to surf Tinder to find a plus one?"

You smiled, looking down at your drink.

"First of all, thank you."

"Anytime."

"Second of all...I don't know, since my ex left me I've been focusing on myself."

"No hoe phase?"

"Hoe—ly shit, you seriously talk to people you don't know like that?" You scoffed.

"I just mean, you know. Sometimes after a breakup, you wanna fuck around a little. Nothing wrong with that. It would explain why you're on Tinder."

"Oh? Is that you're on Tinder?"

"Honestly? No."

"Why, then?"

Patrick shrugged. "I like sex and sometimes I have trouble finding somewhere to sleep."

"How's that working?"

"Better than you'd think."

"Does the sex thing always happen?"

"Not always. I'm happy to crash on a couch."

"Mm."

"Not that I mind it when it happens. Thanks for answering my question, by the way."

"What do you mean?"

"About the hoe phase. You just said 'the sex thing' like it's a creature from the black lagoon."

"I did not—" You began to wind up for the next round of argument, but were cut off by the sound of your name being called. You winced, steeling yourself and urging, "Don't look."

"That the ex?"

"Yes."

"Perfect," Patrick stood up straighter, straightening his jacket. "Showtime."

"You sound way too excited—"

"Hey!" Your ex spoke up behind you, and you slapped a smile on, wheeling around and greeting, "Jeremy, hi!"

"How's it going?" Jeremy began to lean in for a hug, but went still when Patrick curled his arm around your waist. Your stomach flipped at the gesture, keeping your eyes carefully trained on Jeremy's face.

"It's going great, how are you?"

"It's good, it's good."

"Where's Francesca?"

"Oh, she's grabbing a drink."

"Awesome."

"You want another one, baby?"

Patrick's question threw you for a loop for a second, but you shook your head, smiling.

"I'm good, hon, but thanks."

"I don't think we've—met?" Jeremy's voice tipped up, and you had to fight off a laugh.

"I don't think you have. Jeremy, this is Patrick."

"Hi."

You watched Jeremy hold his hand out to shake, but Patrick just tightened his grip on your hip, drawing you a little closer as he offered, "Nice to meet you."

Jeremy's smile faltered as he drew his hand back, tucking it into his pocket.

"You two been together long?"

"Oh, gosh, a few months," You flubbed.

"How'd you, uh—How'd you meet?"

"At a match. I'm a tennis player."

"Oh! You any good?" Jeremy asked.

"He's the best," You answered without missing a beat.

Patrick chuckled softly, nose nudging against your cheek. "You're gonna make me blush, sweetie."

"Good," You smiled at him. A thrill shot through you as Patrick's eyes dipped to your mouth, and before you knew it, he was leaning in for a gentle kiss. You let your eyes slip closed, your lips working tenderly against his. Patrick's hand slid from your hip, sliding lower and palming your ass. You drew back, giving Patrick a warning look before turning to look at Jeremy again as he cleared his throat.

"I should go find Francesca."

"Sure! It was great seeing you."

"You, too—and nice meeting you, Patrick."

"Charmed," Patrick cooed. The two of you watched him turn, disappearing into the crowd.

"...That was good, right?"

"Yeah, it was good...Patrick?"

"Yeah?"

"Get your hand off of my ass."

"Sure." He gave it a pat before turning back to the table, eyeing a passing server's tray. "Is that shrimp cocktail?"

--

"That wasn't so bad."

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Little bit of both." Patrick leaned against your front hall wall. You took him in for a moment, taking in his loose tie, and his jacket where he was holding it over his shoulder.

"I think we were very convincing, so," You tipped your head from side to side. "You're right. It wasn't so bad. Thank you."

"Hey, sure. You can just venmo me."

"What?"

"For the motel."

"Oh! Oh, of course." You fished into your purse for your phone, biting your lip. To be honest, you'd been rethinking that particular part of the plan all evening. You hated to admit it, but Patrick was gorgeous, and had been so goddamn charming. He'd been funny, had made conversation with the other guests at your table, and he'd been perfectly affectionate—kisses on the cheek, the lips; a hand on your back, your waist. A time or two, he'd gazed into your eyes in a way that had felt so sincere and...Real.

Sure, he'd driven you nuts at the beginning of the evening, but he had grown on you.

"Um," You spoke up. "I was, uh...I was thinking."

"What about?"

"About the sex...Thing." You glanced nervously toward Patrick just in time to see his expression melt into flirty intrigue.

"Oh yeah?" He goaded. "What about it?"

You couldn't just come out and say it, right? You set your phone down on the counter and strode toward Patrick before you could talk yourself out of it. You grasped his rough cheeks, drawing him in for a kiss. He went without hesitation, dropping his jacket and curling his arms around you. You groaned softly, sliding a hand up into his hair and letting him steer you back against the wall. You parted your lips as Patrick's tongue probed them gently, his leg slotting between yours and rocking it back and forth.

You rolled your hips down against it, whining softly against his lips as his hands skimmed over your body. Patrick began to draw away, but you leaned up, catching hold of his lower lip with your teeth and giving it a rough bite. His hips jolted against yours, groaning low in his throat as you soothingly slipped your tongue along the skin.

"Do you still want me to Venmo you?" You asked.

"Not really. You still want me to crash on the couch?"

You hummed, pretending to contemplate before you let your hand slide from his curls to his neck.

"How about we start on the couch."

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 1

Hello! I know there are a few minutes left of the poll, but there is nothing that could happen in the next 15 minutes that is going to change the outcome.

3 to 1 in favor of the main story first. The only reason I asked, was because that story has been finished a long time, but this one is just getting started. But the masses have spoken.

Original prompt here.

Summary: Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys made it big right out of high school. So big that Metallica could open for them. Outselling the biggest bands and artists. They are huge. Then a small little indy metal band called The Fallen comes on the scene. They wear hoods and masks and go by aliases. Eddie (and most of the rest of the metal scene) are dismissive of them. More splash then talent.

Only fans don't thinks so. So when Dustin takes him to one of their concerts Eddie learns two things.

One that they are super talented.

And two, that he knows at least of one the members' of the band's real identity.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Getting out of Hawkins had always been the dream. Being able to do it with three of the best people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing with their music? That was the cherry on top of the icing.

But Eddie never dreamed that Corroded would outsell one his favorite bands of all time. Never even crossed his mind to dream about.

But there it was in black and white. Corroded Coffin was the highest grossing band of the year. Metallica was seventh. Fuck they had outsold Taylor Swift for Christ’s sake.

Barely.

But it still counted damn it!

What was a surprise was the number nineteenth best selling band of the year. A band he’d never heard of before. The Fallen. It said the genre was metal in that little italic font.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Yeah, it was impossible to listen to every up and coming metal band. But if they had already hit this big with only their second album, surely Eddie would have heard them on the radio.

Only on their last tour Chrissy Cunningham, their beautiful and amazing manager had put an embargo on the radio because the riffs were finding their way into Eddie’s song writing. So he guessed it made sense that he hadn’t heard of them.

So he called the one person he knew who would have all the details on these guys.

“Dusty!” he greeted when the man picked up. Man. Shit, when did they all get so old?

“Eddie!” Dustin greeted back. “Finally back in town?”

Eddie grinned. “You know it. Dude, you know my tour schedule better than Chrissy does.”

“Maybe.”

He laughed. “Guess who hit the top of the most successful metal bands of the decade?”

“Oh my god!” Dustin screamed. “That’s so cool! Is the issue out on stands yet or did you get a sneaky peak for having made it to the top of their list?”

Eddie winced. “Sadly the later. But! I can bring it over to show you when I come to hang out.”

“That’s acceptable,” Dustin said. “Steve just got back in town, too. That label he works for sure does like dragging him all over the world.”

Eddie hummed. “Yeah? Where’d they send him this time?”

“Japan if you can believe it,” Dustin huffed. “He basically came home sometime around midnight and just crashed.”

Eddie didn’t know what Steve and Robin did for the studio, no one did. But the general consensus was that they were dogsbodies of some sort. Getting coffees for execs and stars, driving them places. Just stuff they didn’t want to hire out for, they made Robin and Steve do.

“I won’t be waking him up if I come over, will I?” Eddie asked, biting his lip. He had a crush on the other man. A large one. But fame and fortune kept getting in the way of something more.

“Nah,” Dustin assured him. “He woke up about an hour ago. He’s even showered and eaten. He’ll want to see you as much as I do.”

Eddie very much doubted that, but he was going to take it. “Great! This list is insane, man. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“Come over for dinner,” Dustin suggested. “We’ll pour over the list over pizza and beer.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re old enough for beer now.”

“Yeah, yeah, old man,” Dustin said. Eddie could feel the eye roll from here.

****

Eddie was watching Steve in interest.

He was walking around like he was used to being in high heels or something, as he would catch himself on his toes and force his feet down on his heels.

He would jump at Dustin throwing open the door. He kept touching his face and rubbing at his throat.

Robin was constantly pushing tea into his hands to get them settle. When they weren’t cradling the tea mugs, they were all over the place. Not just his face. But his back and stomach, too. Rubbing his palms on the front of his jeans.

“Dude!” Dustin hissed. “What is wrong with you? Japan can’t have been that different from America.”

Steve winced from the sound. “Bud, you are seriously being too loud. I told you that I have a migraine.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Hey do you need me to go? Butthead here said you were fine.”

Steve looked up at Eddie and his expression softened. “I’m fine as long as you aren’t yelling like Dusty Buns, here.”

Eddie chuckled. “I hear that. So how was Japan? When me and the boys went a couple years ago it was so beautiful.”

Steve rubbed his forehead between his eyebrows. “I wish I could have seen more of it. It felt like we were running nonstop. At least we aren’t roadies. I don’t think I could do the work they do. They’re the true beating heart of the operation.”

Eddie nodded. “Our last tour we had twelve trucks of roadies and equipment. It was insane.”

Robin grabbed Steve’s cold tea mug and swapped it with a warm one. Steve murmured his thanks. “I’m still not sure if I’m on this time zone yet. And I worry that this fucking migraine may throw me off even further.”

“Is that why Robin is plying you with tea?” Eddie asked. “To keep you awake enough to go bed at the right time?”

Steve nodded, humming contently over the cup of tea. “Nothing caffeinated, not really. Peppermint for the most part, honey lemon, too. She thinks I might be coming down with travelers’ cough.”

Again Steve made an aborted movement toward his face.

“Stop doing that!” Dustin hissed again. “Why do you keep touching your face like that? Did the Tibetan monks curse you or something?”

Robin smacked the back of his head. “That’s China, doofus! And no, no one has been cursed. We had to wear face masks like the surgeons wear for a lot of the trip because there had been a flu outbreak.”

Eddie nodded. “Ooh, yeah. They recommended we wear them too in certain areas, it wouldn’t surprise me if I was that twitchy when we moved to the Australian leg of the tour.”

Dustin eyed Steve warily, like he wasn’t sure if he should believe him or not, but Eddie had backed him up, so Dustin decided to let it go.

For now.

“Where were you touring again?” Steve asked Eddie after taking a long sip from his mug. “South America, wasn’t it?”

“Right in one, big boy,” Eddie enthused. “It was our first time in some of those countries so it was super exciting meeting the people, learning the culture, eating the food. I swear by the end of the tour we had all gained at least ten pounds and that was with us sweating our asses off on stage almost every night.”

Steve winced. “I don’t know how you guys do it, the stage lights we had were merciless.”

“Years and years of practice, Stevie,” Eddie said, “years and years of practice.”

Dustin turned to Eddie. “All right I think I’ve been patient enough, I want to see the top twenty money makers of metal before I vibrate out of my skin.”

Steve laughed and smacked the back of his head. “You know who number one is, why do you care about the other nineteen?”

Eddie shook his head. “Not just metal bands, my weird little friend. But out of all the bands.”

He pulled out the magazine and Dustin snatched it out of his hands, careful not to rip it.

Dustin was furiously reading the list and it was clear that he was looking for someone specific.

“Eureka!” he cried. “I knew it! I knew they were outselling other new metal bands.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. “Yeah? Who’s that, bud?”

“The Fallen!” he cried. “They are so cool man. They have these on stage personas like Daft Punk and they kick ass on stage. I was so bummed when they didn’t come to Pasadena or anywhere near there when they were doing their US leg of their tour.”

Dustin was going to school at Caltech because as much as he wanted to go to MIT his mom was worried about him being by himself, so he moved out to California to move in with Steve.

He was on campus for housing most of the year, but he came home on the weekends and that put Claudia’s mind at rest.

Steve himself had moved out to California a couple of years before. Robin and him had gotten a job at record company and had to move out there to be closer to the headquarters.

Interestingly, or at least to Dustin, Steve’s friends all found jobs out here, too.

“I saw that one,” Eddie was saying. “But I’d never heard of them are they any good?”

Dustin scoffed. “Are they any good? Holy shit are they good.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “They’re a metal band, no offense to Eddie here, but there are only three metal bands on the whole list. Most of them are pop, rap, or country. How good can they be?”

Eddie scoffed and held his hands to his heart. “You wound me!” Then he flopped on the sofa, playing dead.

“That’s what does make them so good, Steve,” Dustin insisted. “Because there are only three metal bands on the list, it means they had to work their asses off twice as hard as the others.”

Eddie popped up. “Yeah, Stevie!” He stuck out his tongue and Steve laughed.

“You got any of the albums?” Steve asked, with a flippant wave of his hand. “If they’re so good, let’s hear them then.”

A shadow crossed over Robin’s face and she looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

****

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 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Permanent Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @counting-dollars-counting-stars @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

[3minsover]

another modern steddie au

Eddie gets invited to prom.

Eddie, the freak.

Gets invited by the captain of the basketball team, Jason.

And Eddie’s over the fucking moon, because he never thought he’d get a date to prom, let alone such a hot, popular one.

Sure, it’d taken a little convincing at first, because duh. Town pariah, cutest boy in school - it’s not an obvious match. But Jason seems sincere.

There’d been a time Eddie thought maybe he’d go to prom with Steve - back when they were in the same class last year - but of course Steve never asked, and Eddie didn’t have the stones to do it himself. Always had to go for the popular guy, the unattainable one, did Eddie.

Once Steve graduated, Eddie had been surprised to actually strike up a friendship with Steve on his trips to the local coffee-shop-vintage-vinyl-store hybrid where Steve now worked. He’d even asked Steve, only a couple days before Jason casually leant against Eddie’s locker and popped the question - his excitement and shock had made him blind to the group of jocks loitering with smirk-stained mouths just down the hall - if he’d consider accompanying him to prom just so he didn’t have to go alone. Just as friends though, obviously (except that Eddie would have combusted on the spot if it wasn’t just as friends).

Steve’s rejection of the invite had come swift, though not harshly, and not for any reason other than that he had tickets to see the Hoosiers play the Wolverines at the Assembly Hall that night. Eddie spluttered out reassurance that-

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry about little old me! Hey, I’ll have Rob and Nance there, huh, even if they’re going together. I’ll crash their date.” But the enthusiasm fell out of his voice as he spoke.

Steve had been surprised, but supportive, when Eddie broke the news about Jason. he’d not said anything for a long moment, but then his face split into a smile that seemed too big for his face, and he offered Eddie a high five.

And so the afternoon of prom comes.

Jason’s going to pick Eddie up at 7, and for the whole day, Eddie’s been all jitters. He showers, shaves, fusses with his hair, his tux (borrowed from Wayne), his rings and chains, and at 6:45, Eddie sits down opposite Wayne at the dining table.

And he waits.

And waits.

7pm comes, and then 7:15. 7:30.

“He probably just got caught up,” Eddie justifies, if only to break the thick silence hanging over the kitchen.

“I’m sure, kid.” Wayne’s voice is sincere, but it does nothing to ease the swirling of Eddie’s stomach. 8 o’clock crawls nearer, and Eddie’s still sitting at his kitchen table, elbows itching where he’s had his arms folded on the table in front of him for so long. Wayne excuses himself, comes back a couple minutes later, and Eddie hasn’t moved.

Acceptance tastes bitter in Eddie’s mouth.

“He’s not coming, is he.” Eddie doesn’t need to phrase it as a question. Of course Jason’s not coming. Why would he? Eddie feels so fucking stupid. For a moment there, he really thought.

“No, son. I… I don’t think he is.”

“I’m gonna go change,” Eddie announces, failing to keep the wetness out of his voice. He stands, the chair legs scraping overloud against the kitchen floor, and stalks towards his bedroom. He’s tugging at his tie and blinking away stinging tears when four sharp knocks come from the front door. Eddie’s nearest, and his heartbeat rockets. he races over, yanks at the handle flinging it open to find-

Steve.

Steve Harrington is standing on his front porch, fidgeting with his tie. Because he’s wearing a tie. And a suit. His cheeks are flushed, his hair a little damp still, and he’s holding a single yellow dandelion between pinched fingers. He looks so fucking handsome Eddie could cry. Or kiss him. Or kiss him and then cry.

But Steve’s at the Hoosiers game. Or-

“Steve…? I don’t…”

“Wayne called me.” Steve dips his chin self-consciously, looking up through thick lashes.

“And you- But you’re- The game?” Eddie blinks furiously, blindsided by the sight of Steve Harrington in a tux offering him a flower for his goddamn buttonhole.

“There’ll be other games. I’m only gonna get one more chance to take you to prom.”

“One… more?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “I missed it the first time. Almost missed it this time too.”

“But you didn’t.” Eddie takes a half step forward, allowing Steve to slip his fingers under the lapel of his jacket and push the stem of the dandelion through the little stitched opening. He inhales a little gasp at the heady scent of Steve’s cologne so close all of a sudden. Their eyes meet, and everything else softens around them, fading only to shades of violet and blue in the dark. Eddie can see the bob of Steve’s throat as he swallows, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the rich hazel of Steve’s own to focus on it.

Eddie knows he’s smiling like a fool.

“I’m glad you could make it, son.” Wayne’s voice pops the moment like a dishsoap bubble, soft in the way that fall leaves are. Steve looks up and over Eddie’s shoulder, nodding bashfully.

“I’m glad you called.”

“Me too, Wayne. Thank you. No, really. Though I’m not sure I entirely love the fact that my uncle can get me a date better than I can.” The three of them laugh, the sound rising smoky into the night.

“You two have fun - but not too much, y’know.” Wayne’s mouth is set firm but there’s a recognizable spark in his eyes that Eddie is so glad they share.

“I’ll have him home by midnight, sir.” Steve plays the ‘respectful, demure date’ role so well.

“Don’t I get a say in that?” Eddie exclaims, whipping his head to look between the two of them. “Alright, take me to the dance, Harrington.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

In the end, they don’t make it to prom. Instead Steve drives them out to the overlook at Lover’s Lake, just the two of them, and they talk until the twinkle of stars is replaced by the first peachy hints of day. And Eddie thinks maybe prom is overrated, after all.

[archangeldyke-all]

okay so, sevika and reader have been friends for a few years and obviously there’s feelings but they won’t admit it🤭 and reader goes on a date but gets stood up😟 and sevika comes across her crying her eyes out and maybe there’s some feelings coming out??

CUTE cute cute

men and minors dni

good luck on your date

you sigh as you stare at the message from sevika. she's so sweet-- checking in on you because she knows you're nervous.

there's no new messages for you from your date-- no new messages from anybody besides the one from sevika.

you try to relax. it's only been ten minutes, your date will show up eventually. she'll probably be here in a minute, with an explanation for her lateness. you take another sip of water and pick at the roll you've been eating, then play a quick game of solitare on your phone.

you win. you check your phone again. 15 minutes late now, no new messages.

she's late. you text back to sevika. the message is read in an instant, and you feel yourself relax incrementally at the sight of the little typing bubble in the corner of your phone.

relax. she's probably just in traffic. sevika's response comes through. you sigh, wishing that sevika was here with you.

it's not that you guys are stupid. you both know there's a shared attraction between you two. it's just that...

it's just that sevika's your best friend. and you're her best friend. and both of you are so guarded that it's nearly impossible to make any new friends, so you need each other, forever, preferably. and a relationship would just... complicate that. and jeopardize it. right?

you don't know. you're starting to question that decision, on your end. because this is the fifth first date you've been on in a month, and you're getting fucking sick of it. you wish things could be easy, like they are with sev. if she was here, you'd both be too busy laughing and joking to look at the menu. and when you finally did, you'd likely order two dishes that you'll share equally, because you're both indecisive and like variety. and you'd drink through a bottle of wine and end the night with a shared slice of cake, and then crash at sevika's-- cuddled together in her bed while a movie plays in the background.

but it's not sevika you're waiting on-- sevika'd never keep you waiting in the first place. it's a girl you met on tinder, who seemed incredibly interested in you over text, but now that you're meant to meet it seems like she's much less into you.

it's been a half hour now. you're getting a little worked up, horrible thoughts swirling in your mind as humiliation starts to settle in your stomach. the waitress has been shooting pitying looks your way, your date's ice water has melted into just water now.

your phone buzzes, and you scramble to open it. she there yet? sevika asks. you bite your lip.

no. how long do i have to wait before i accept that she stood me up? you reply.

you anxiously watch sevika's typing bubble pop up, then down, then up, then down again. you gulp.

give it ten more minutes. if she doesn't show, block her. sevika replies. you chuckle, taking a deep breath and leaning back in your seat.

okay. ten more minutes. you can do that.

you play another round of solitaire and eat another piece of bread. each time someone walks past your table your head whips up to look at them. it's never the girl from the app, it's just waiters and couples.

a lump is forming in your throat-- this is why you don't fucking date. people are unpredictable and rude, and you can't stop yourself from feeling like a fucking idiot for even trying. you feel... ugly and strange and rejected and undesirable, and the more time that passes, the worse that feeling gets. you feel tears starting to build in your eyes, and you duck your head, pretending to study the menu to hide the fact that you're crying.

"hey, beautiful." you jump, your head snapping up from the table top to look at the woman across the table from you. relief floods your body at the sight of your best friend kicking the chair out and slumping against it. she reaches across the table and wipes your tears away, and you lean against her palm.

"hey, sevika." you sigh. she smiles sadly at you, pinching your cheek before putting her hand back on the table.

"i'm sorry your date's an idiot. she doesn't know what she's missing out on." sevika says as she grabs your hand. you smile.

"you don't have to say--"

"shut up. you wanna eat here or you want me to take you home?" she asks. you sigh and squeeze her fingers.

"let's eat. i'm starving, and i'd feel even worse if i went home and let this outfit go to waste." you say. sevika smirks.

"you do look hot." she says. you giggle.

"you do too." you say, nodding at your friend. she must've gotten dressed up to come rescue you-- her usual weekend sweats traded out for nice dress slacks and a button up-- and it makes your heart skip a beat. "thanks for coming."

"fuck off, i'd do anything for you, you know that." she says, not looking up from her menu. you squeak, then reach up to cover your mouth, and sevika looks up from her menu to study you. "what?" she asks. you blink at her.

"why..." you trail off. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"what?"

"forget it. what're you getting?" you ask.

dinner goes like it always does. you guys share your food, split a bottle of wine, laughing and talking the entire time. you can't tell if she's trying to be a little extra caring toward you because you've been stood up, or if she's always like this: feeding you bites from her plate, holding your hand when you're not using it to eat.

you also can't stop thinking about how this feels better than any date you've been on this month. you can't stop thinking about how soft sevika's hair looks, how fucking sweet she is when she smiles all big and toothy, how warm her hand is, and how attractive and tantalizing the tiny flash of cleavage under her unbuttoned top buttons is.

when the night ends, sevika insists on paying. you try your best to pay the bill, but sevika kicks you under the table hard enough to bruise and glares at you when you reach for your wallet. so, you let her handle the check.

she walks you out of the restaurant with her arm slung around your shoulders, and you try to keep yourself from leaning against her chest and inhaling the smell of her cologne.

"did you drive here? i can give you a ride home." she offers. you turn to look at her, studying her under the streetlights. you've been through an emotional roller-coaster tonight, but with sevika by your side, you feel settled. she's beautiful and considerate, and you're tipsy off wine and warm from the night spent with your best friend, so you ask the question before you can second guess yourself.

"why aren't we dating?" you ask. sevika blinks at you, her eyebrows shooting up her head.

"what?"

"i mean. it makes sense, right? i find you attractive, and you find me..."

"beyond gorgeous." sevika fills in, nodding. you laugh.

"and we get along great and... i dunno, sev. i've been on so many dates but none of them feel anywhere near as right as just sitting on the couch with you. and i know we're friends but i don't think... i don't think much would change, do you?" you ask. sevika's still shocked, but there's a tiny smile playing on her lips.

"really?" she asks. you shrug.

"yeah. you've never thought about it?"

"i think about it all the time." she says. "all the time."

"really?"

"i've been tearing my hair out all month. each time you went on a date i'd be at home fucking praying that it didn't work out. i just thought-- i thought you wouldn't want me." she says. you gulp.

"of course i'd want you." you say.

"is this finally happening?" she whispers. you giggle.

"if you want it to." you say. she grins.

then, she's kissing you. her lips are soft and warm, and you feel fireworks in your stomach. you reach up to bury your fingers in her hair, and she wraps her arms around your waist, backing you up until you're against the brick of the restaurant.

you moan against her lips and she growls, sinking her teeth into your lower lip. you gasp.

"f-fuck, sev."

she pulls away with a smirk.

"sorry. been wanting to do that for a while." she says. you smile.

"do it again." you say. she grins.

"i think you're only supposed to kiss once after the first date." you giggle and pinch her side, and she laughs.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[2mny-glockis]

❤︎‬Pretty... ❤︎‬

Pt 3 Eren Yeager x coquette!black fem reader

Pt 1 Pt 2

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔

He looked like the Cheshire Cat, standing at you door. Grinning from ear to ear. But he couldn’t help it. Eren truly never cared for what he looked like, but today, oh, today was different. He spent 3 hours getting ready. He even had Armin, Jean, and Connie come over to help him pick an outfit. He had to make sure that today was perfect, just like you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔

He stood there and after about two minutes he rang your doorbell. He was nervous but he didn’t understand why. I mean, he’s been on one or two dates before but honestly, not like this. Those dates were just pathetic attempts in getting your attention. Now he’s at the one place he’s dreamt of being at and he’s nervous?

‘Man up!’ He mumbles under his breath. He takes a deep breath in and a deep breath out. Trying to calm his nerves. Which in the end worked but he tensed up again when he heard you door unlocking.

And there you were, in your pretty ass dress, and your pretty ass bows in your hair, and your pretty ass shoes, and…

He was very much Mesmerized. In fact he was So mesmerized, he didn’t register anything you were saying.

“Umm Eren..” You Wave to him breaking him out of his little trance. “..o-oh uh Hey..” if he was nervous before, he was 100 times more anxious now. And I can assure you he was now reder than the roses growing in your front garden. “I’m just gonna get the basket and I’ll be out!” You shoot him a quick smile and go back inside to get the picnic basket sitting on your kitchen counter. I think you’re trying to kill this man.

“Oh so you’re rich rich huh?” You chuckle sarcastically as you get in his car. “I guess you can say that.. you like it?”

“Mhmm! I’m very aware that we are going on a picnic but I still have yet to know where?” You say with a subtle smile on your face . “It’s a surprise.” He smiles. “You look so pretty..” he fixes on of the bows in your hair. “maybe that’s what I should call you from now on, how you like it Pretty. ” it was obvious that you adored the nickname hence the big smile growing on your face. You tried to contain said smile but it forcefully came out. Now you looked like the Cheshire Cat. “Should I give you a nickname too..?” You shyly look at your lap. “Mm if you Wanna Pretty.” He starts up his car.

I guess there’s a reason why you didn’t get any flowers because after about 15 minutes of driving, you looked out his cars window all you could was flowers. You giggled. Wondering what was so funny, he looked at you. “Keep your eyes on the road…Rennie.” You sigh.

‘Rennie…?’ Lucky for Your safety, you were just pulling up into a nearby parking lot. Otherwise I can assure you that you guys would of crashed. Again, are you trying to kill this man?

Once you two found the perfect spot, you laid your picnic blanket down, and put your picnic basket on top. You both sat down and took out all of the food you have prepared. “I didn’t really know what you might like so I just made sandwiches and chicken nuggets..” Eren picks up a sandwich and brings it to his mouth. “I also made dessert!” His eyes widen. “ did You made this sandwich..from scratch..?” “Oh uh yeah.. everything in here I made from scratch including the strawberry lemonade….why do you not like them..?” A sad expression grows on you face

…

“ Pretty i really think we should get married. like rn. At this very second. ”

…

As your date came to a close, you and Eren could be seen walking up to your door. “I had a really good time Rennie! Thank you.” You grin. “No THANK YOU for blessing me with your amazing cooking.” You both laugh. He Did absolutely demolish those chicken sandwiches. And don’t get me started with the dessert. Once the laughter was finished there was a few seconds of silence between the two of you. Your trying to contain you smile as Eren is Staring at you. You could practically see hearts in his eyes.

Eren takes your hands in his. Pulling you closer. He heard a quiet yet cute squeal come from your mouth and he chuckles. “Hey pretty..?” He says in a sultry voice. “..yeah..” you smile as he pulls you even closer. Now rather then holding your hands, his hands are now on your waist.

“Can I please kiss you..?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔

>ᵥ_ᵥ<:ok guys this is the end 😭 I really hoped that you liked this (cause I lowkey don’t but hey ✋😪✋)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔

[indiasthoughts]

"Can you roll my window up?"

---------

aka- , eren, and xiao, x black readers turn on this trend

---------

warnings;;

suggestive, but no smut, x black reader, ,, use of the n word , fluff, she/her/hers pronouns, lowkey toxic relationships, SASSY MEN SASSY MEN SASSY MEN SASSY MEN!!!!

---------

authors note: ik this is such a silly contrast aot and genshin but i been craving all both men sooo😮‍💨

and for reference--

︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Ps: this is old work but i desperately need smth to post so mind the cornyness pls 🙈

୨⎯ Eren ⎯୧

Inside of the 6'3 mans black BMW M4 was a beautiful girl in his passengers seat, annoyed and frustrated.

see- this girl had a few things that annoyed her that he knew of yet still did when she rode in someones car.

one- rolling her window down and leaving her cold in her black skims dress. two- playing music she's not fond of at the moment, if she's in a brent faiyaz mood why play warren g? and three- not listening to what she had to say.

so when her boyfriend, Eren, of three months did all three at the same time frustration ng came crashing down

"Eren, baby, please roll my window up.", rubbing her arms to create any sort of warmth.

- and to no avail, ignored.

"babe..."

- ignored.

she furrowed her eyebrows and turnt the music down to a volume of 2.

"Can you roll my window up?!"

"No, ur attitude ruining my vibe bro"

As "2SEATER" By tyler the creator started playing, he turned the volume up, but not as high as he had it before, out of the slightest bit of respect.

"Who the fuck is your bro?"

"Ma what I told you about swearing?"

She reached over to his side, unbuckling the seatbelt as her boyfriend stopped at a red light. she pressed the passengers window button and rolled her window up.

"Now the music aint hitting from all angles!!"

"Imma hit you from all angles."

He once again put the windows down.

"Whos car this is?"

"Who sitting here?"

"Ion know what you have an attitude for..."

"Oh my god."

she leaned into her seat, embracing the cold she'd have to deal with for the next 15 minutes.

about another minute passed, and Eren was already tired of the awkward atmosphere.

"Baby im sorry"

"mhm.."

he held a small frown as he pulled up into a empty parking spot .

Tyler spoke in the background- 'the fuck you turn my music down for?'

"mamas it's us" he said with the widest grin he could possibly hold.

'can you roll my window up?'

you lip synced to the girl's parts.

'Why? damn.'

as he would too.

"Cause it's windy." You audibly spoke this time.

"But I love it when your hair blows."

as the beat dropped, he reached in and gave you a kiss.

ewww this was so sickenlybsweet ugh me and who🤢🤢

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

୨⎯ Xiao ⎯୧

you and your boyfriend, Xiao had been lying down in his bedroom, while you played with his cat on his lap, he did his homework. There was a specific way he liked to have his room, cold. whether it's the ac blasting on days where the cold was too much too have his windows open, or open windows, on the warmer days. Today happened to be one of the warmer days. And despite the baggy sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and one of his sweaters, his room was still too cold for you. As much as you cuddles up with Astro, the cat, and your boyfriend, it was still unbearable.

"Xiao, lets close the windows please.."

"I won't be able to concentrate."

he furrowed his eyebrows and said that with in the sturnest way he could.

"I'm gonna head into the living room then"

You grabbed the cat, and as quick as one leg came down, it came back up.

He played a faveorite playlist of his, when "2SEATER" came first.

"Sit back down pretty?" more of a question than a command.

"Damnn nigga it's cold!"

"m'sorry, stay wimme ok?"

He turned the volume up and held your waist, bringing his lips to your neck and nibbling your neck.

You knit your brows together, feeling a gush of cold air, and flinched softly. Taking his phone that was connected to his JBL speaker, and lowering it.

"Can you roll the windows up?"

"Whyd you turn the music down"

he puts it back on, lowly chuckling at the perfect timing on the song.

"Can you roll it up?"

"Why?, damn"

"Because it's!-"

You slowly realise the timing on the song and this mini arguement.

"But i love it when your hair blows.."

As he finally removed his lips from your neck, and tilting your neck to crane your head and meet his lips.

[harryslittlefreakk]

girl crush

Summary: harry x bisexual bandmate y/n, based on girl crush!

Warnings: angst, smut, all the good stuff!!!

A/n: i literally cannot get this song out of my head so i had to write something!! I’ve been in such a bad rut so it’s absolutely NOT the best but i needed to post something 🥹

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here! enjoy and happy reading 🫶🏼

“Need the bathroom,” you slurred, slipping out of the booth to stumble in the general direction of the toilets. You’d made the mistake of breaking the seal too early, as you always did, so now you were slipping away to pee every 15 minutes. Only as soon as you stood up this time, you suddenly didn’t need to go anymore. There was a beautiful bad decision sitting alone at the bar, and your feet moved towards her before your brain had decided to. “A pornstar martini please,” you told the bartender, watching the stranger out the corner of your eye. She was insanely pretty, with dark bangs covering her eyes and red lips parted around the tiny cocktail straw she was nibbling on. She had tattoos littered all over her body - what you could see of it anyway - and a skimpy dress covering the places you wanted to see most.

You turned to face her as the bartender slid your drink in front of you, your drunken brain deciding that simply staring at her was the best way to make a move. She looked over to you, eyes dark under the dimmed lighting. “Haven’t seen you here before,” she told you, swilling the last of her drink around the glass. “I’m only here for a couple of nights.”

“And instead of seeing the city you’re here gawking at me?” she asked, rolling her lips into her mouth. “Sorry,” you giggled. “You’re beautiful.” She chuckled softly, a smirk playing on her lips.

You asked what she was drinking before turning back to the bartender and ordering another round for the two of you, your cocktail slipping down far too easily in the hopes of liquid courage. You weren’t used to making the first move, and if your ridiculous idea of staring at her was anything to go by, you’d have to work fairly hard to get anywhere tonight. Truthfully, you found girls far more intimidating than men. A tiny flick of your hair could get a man’s attention, a little swish of your hips enough to ensure you weren’t going home alone. But girls were far harder to impress, hence why you rarely managed to make it out of the bedroom with them. “I’m Daisy,” she said, eyelashes fluttering. “Y/n,” you told her, still staring through half-lidded eyes. Whether you were dazed from the alcohol or from her presence, the next thirty minutes or so passed in a blur. Suddenly you found yourself panting against her mouth, unable to pull away for even a second as she tugged you towards the bathroom. You only crashed back into reality when you heard a deep growl of your name.

“Here’s the boss man! Harry!” you called out, grinning at him as he stormed towards you. “Can we have a minute?” he asked, stepping in front of the door to keep you both from entering. Daisy sighed and walked away, not even giving you a second glance before leaving. “Get in, now.” Harry stepped back to let you into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. “What are you doing?” you slurred, leaning against the sink for balance. “What the fuck are you doing? Sneaking into bathrooms with girls when we’re out as a team?” Harry’s anger spiked as he growled through gritted teeth, jaw tight. “It’s not like no one’s done it before,” you shrugged, his fury quickly sobering you up.

“No one fucking does it when we have a performance the next day.” He was seething, a red hot ball of anger tight within his core, fists clenching and unclenching by his side to try and keep himself grounded. You’d never seen him like this, scolding you as if you’d done wrong by him. “Why is it such a problem?” you half-shouted, suddenly matching him in his anger. It was meant to be a nice night out, it was a nice night out before his sulking ruined everything. “It’s unprofessional, for fuck’s sake y/n.” He slammed a fist into the door as he spoke.

You could feel hot tears forming, turning away from him as he stared at you. “Just let me go, Harry,” you told him. “She’s probably moved on to someone else by now,” he smirked, holding open the door for you to leave. He stormed past the booth you’d all been sat around, heading straight outside to call a cab and go home. You were standing by the road, hands shaking as you tried to book a ride, eyes blurred with tears. Your always been an emotional drunk, everybody knew this, but these were real, vulnerable tears. “Just come with me,” he sighed, sauntering over to you. “Leave me alone,” you slurred, moving away from him as you finally managed to book a car. “Then I’m getting in with you,” he insisted, momentarily calmer in the presence of your hurt. “No, Harry. I don’t want you to.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Harry stewed the entire way home, shaking with the remains of his fury. He didn’t even know why he was so angry. Alcohol never did this to him, and he hadn’t cared at all when any of his band had met people in the bar before. It was unprofessional, he wasn’t wrong about that - but it never hurt him like this had. He was angry at himself more than anything, for shouting at you and for making you cry. And yet, even through his anger, all he could think about was the kiss you’d shared earlier in the night. You’d been staring at him from across the table, not at all focused on what he was saying yet focused on him. Your head was tilted to one side, nibbling on your fingernail as you stared. “Are you a good kisser?” you asked him, cutting his sentence short. He was flustered, laughing in place of a response. “No seriously, do you know how many girls probably think about kissing you? As if you’re some kind of sex god? And this whole time you might have been rubbish?”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he shrugged, blowing a little kiss to you. “I’ll buy the rest of the night if you try it out,” Mitch offered as you grimaced at Harry.

“The rest of the night plus lunch tomorrow?” you added, fluttering your eyelashes at Mitch. He nodded, eyebrows raised slightly as he glanced between you and Harry. You patted the soft leather seat beside you, tilting your head to gesture for Harry to come over. He had his lips on yours in seconds, hand tangled in your hair, desperate to impress you. Harry knew he was a good kisser, and great in bed, and was somewhat irritated by the idea of you questioning that. You moaned against his mouth as he nibbled at your lower lip, momentarily forgetting where you both were. It was only when Sarah coughed that you pulled back, eyes wide and panties damp. “Fine, fine,” you giggled, holding your hands up in surrender. “You are a good kisser.”

Harry had thought you were beautiful from the day he met you, introduced by Mitch and Sarah. He needed a new pianist, and you needed a new job. So when Mitch had offered to have you to swing by the studios to see how you fit in, he jumped at the chance. You’d clicked with the band instantly, becoming part of Harry’s inner circle by your third time playing with them. You were radiant, always so light and relaxed, the breath of fresh air his debut album needed so desperately. You added layers of depth to the music that had been missing, and your talent resonated with Harry.

He was fucked, in every sense of the word. Well and truly fucked. The closer he’d gotten to you, the harder it was to deny how much he wanted you. He knew how messy it was when feelings got complicated within bands, and vowed that he’d never fall for a member of his team. Yet here he was, totally wrapped up in you. He hoped it was the drinks and the result of a weird night, that he’d wake up and laugh at the idea of ever being into you. Especially since he was sure you might not talk to him for a while.

—

He’d called you all in for an extra rehearsal, wanting to add 2 covers to the set list for your performance. Harry loved to take the opportunity to cover his favourite songs, always needing to sing through his feelings and use this time for some therapy. He walked around the room, slipping sheet music in front of everyone like a teacher handing out assignments. When he reached you, he leaned closer to whisper an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t have to be, s’fine.”

“I was out of line.”

“Yep.”

“But we’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t the first time Harry had thrown a tantrum and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but right now you were still feeling a little too hurt to give in to his puppy dog eyes. He was a perfectionist, and some of that translated into wanting his band to be perfect as a whole, while some of it translated into wanting each and every one of you to be perfect individuals. You’d told him before even joining the band that you weren’t easily governed, that you’d put aside a lot for your colleagues and career but you would never sacrifice yourself along the way. He knew this well, yet still scolded you for a tipsy kiss.

Girl crush and the chain. There was a connection there, but through the haze of a sore head and hurt, you couldn’t quite piece it together. They were two of Harry’s ‘sad’ songs for sure, but what he had to be sad about was totally unclear to you.

You could feel Sarah eyeing you as you started to play, only allowing your gaze to flit between the keyboard and the sheet music, purposely ignorant to all else around you. It wasn’t as if yours and Harry’s disappearance the night before went unnoticed, and coupled with the fact that you could barely look at each other, the air was heavy with tension.

As much as you wanted to confide in Sarah, you needed to get back on your game before the evening’s performance, a televised set hardly the place to show your current disdain for your boss. You were the last to join the band and could easily be the first one out. You knew how ruthless the music industry could be, so it wouldn’t be a total surprise to suddenly find yourself labelled a trouble maker and thrown out in your arse. And while Harry didn’t seem to be that kind of boss, before last night you wouldn’t have thought he’d be the kind of person to explode like he did.

—

Once you were dressed and ready, you felt infinitely more powerful and able. A good outfit could change your entire day, and today you needed all the confidence you could find. A tiny leather a-line skirt wrapped around your hips, a black satin cowl neck loose around your chest. You were the last to admit you looked good, but fuck did you look good tonight. After a long mental pep talk, you took a deep breath and began to lose yourself in the music, the notes carrying you away from the tension weighing on your mind. It was full of soul and emotion, and just listening to Harry sing made your heart light. As the first song drew to a close, you caught his eye and felt a jolt of electricity running through you. His stare was different, something heavy in his eyes as he looked you up and down.

—

“Just give me a second, I’ll catch up with you,” you called out, watching the rest of the band trail out of the door. The green room had felt far too small with everyone here, the walls closing in as you thought about the performance. Something had clicked in your brain as Harry’s eyes focused on you. Now with everybody gone, it felt far too big, far too empty. You couldn’t face him tonight, couldn’t think straight for long enough to enjoy a celebratory meal with your friends. You were burning up, warmth spreading through every inch of your body. It was as if you could feel Harry's eyes still lingering on you, jealousy darkening the whites of his eyes.

—

It wasn’t long after you got back to the hotel that you were startled by a knock at the door. You opened it to find Harry standing there, head hanging low. “You were jealous,” you burst out, looking at him. He looked sheepish, cheeks tinged pink from either the cold, the shame, or both. You stepped back to let him into the room, perching against the edge of the dresser as he sat on the corner of the bed, running a hand through his curls. He was silent, though you could practically hear the cogs turning in his mind, desperate for something to say to you. He knew it would be somewhat easier to come clean about his feelings for you, but the risks to your friendship and working relationship lingered over heavy over his head. It also wouldn’t change the fact that he was a dick to you. But lying to your face, trying to deny the very reason he’d even come here was sure to ruin any chance you had of continuing your friendship.

“I was jealous,” he sighed, finally pulling his head up to meet your eye. All you could do was blink at him, lost for words. There was so much more at stake here for you, and if he knew that, if he cared about that, he would never have sought you out tonight. Either you rejected him, jeopardising your chance of success in his band, closing the lid on your friendship, or you explored the buzzing in your core, jeopardising your chance of success in his band, closing the lid on your friendship. “I need air,” you murmured, grabbing a cigarette from your purse before flinging open the balcony door. Harry watched as you held the cigarette to your mouth, taking a deep puff before blowing the smoke out into the night. Over and over and over again, like a ritual. His heart ached as he watched you, feeling the weight of his confession heavy on his shoulders.

“Just hear me out,” he pleaded, walking over to join you, forearms rested against the metal railings. “I know I was an arse t’you, it was wrong to react like that. That will be the new thing I cringe about before falling asleep.” He laughed bitterly, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he looked over at you. You hesitated for a moment, but then you turned to face him, meeting his gaze. You held out the cigarette to him wordlessly, and he plucked it from your grip, taking a long drag before exhaling slowly. “Y’shouldn’t smoke out here,” he told you, handing it back to you. “You shouldn’t either then,” you giggled. Standing close to him in the cool air, you couldn’t help but imagine a future with Harry. He was handsome, and he was caring, but he was also complicated. You knew that getting involved with him would be messy, but you couldn't deny the pull he had on you. Something had shifted between you when you kissed, no matter how playful it was, and while you didn’t notice it at the time, you could feel it now.

You could feel the tension crackling in the air, the unspoken words hanging between you. Harry’s gaze softened as he searched your eyes for something, anything, to hold onto. And before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, his lips were on yours. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself melting into his mouth, heart racing. His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer into him as the world faded away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours.

Your hand went limp at your side, cigarette burning itself out as a fire ignited in your core. The kiss felt like a promise of something more, something deeper, and you struggled to catch your breath as you pulled away. “We can’t, Harry,” you whispered, pressing a hand to his chest, your gaze fixed on his mouth. His eyes were filled with longing, voice barely audible as he pleaded, "but I want you.”

“I need to shower,” you told him, dropping the cigarette into your makeshift ashtray. A familiar smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you slip out of his grasp, tension still heavy in the air. You grabbed a pair of panties and an oversized t shirt from the dresser, leaving the bathroom door ajar as you turned on the shower. It was insane, you were possibly insane, but you hoped against hope that he’d read the signs right, read you right and follow you. You undressed quickly and stepped into the cubicle, letting the water wash over you as you listened out for his footsteps. And when they didn’t come, when he didn’t appear at the door, you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand across your face. It was best he didn’t come, best you didn’t cross that line, but you suddenly so desperately wanted to. The hot water did little to ease the ache in your core, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin.

And then you felt it, so real and so warm as he snaked a hand around your waist, hot breath tickling the back of your neck. His lips grazed your ear as he whispered, "y’can't resist me, can you?” Harry pressed soft kisses into every inch of skin his mouth could reach, pausing to suckle at the curve of your neck. You whimpered as you turned to face him, heart racing, and pressed your lips against his in a fierce, needy kiss. Passion surged between you, igniting something that had lay dormant within you for far too long.

“Harry,” you moaned against his mouth, hands wrapping around his thick shoulders. He pulled away for a second, eyes trailing down your body. His hands smoothed up your sides as he stared, watching his palms dip into the curve of your waist, groping at your breast as he moved further up your body. His mouth found the sensitive skin around your areola, suckling until a little purple bruise formed. He nipped at the mark, smirking against you as you arched into his touch.

Your hand found his length as he kissed all over you, fingers wrapping around his tip. “Not yet, kitten,” Harry groaned, grabbing your hand and holding it tight behind your back. His free hand danced along your body, touch light as he trailed past your abdomen, down over your mound, before making contact with your clit. His thumb rubbed soft circles over your button, the gentle touch sending chills through your body. His grip on your wrist was hard, the tips of his fingers digging into your skin. The slight pain only made your core ache more, needing more of Harry. As if he could read your mind, he pushed two fingers into your opening, thumb still rubbing determined circles.

But it wasn’t enough, even as his fingers curled at your sweet spot, you needed more. Even with the burning spreading through your centre, you needed more. Your hips bucked into him, pushing his touch further into your entrance. Your fingers were aching to touch him, desperate for the feel of his thick shaft against your palm. You’d heard stories, heard all the jokes, yet you didn’t think he’d really be *that* big. You needed him in a way that would change everything, a way that would open new doors you could never close. The risk was more exciting to you now than scary, your desperation for his cock completely washing away any of your previous fears.

Just thinking about it had your legs shaking, core tight as your head dropped to his shoulder, orgasm washing over you. You moaned against his skin as you came, messy and heavy onto his palm.

Harry let go of your hand and kneaded the flesh of your ass as he rode you through your high, hard cock bumping your core as he pulled his fingers out of you, tongue licking your juices from his skin. He reached behind you to turn off the water, watching you step out of the shower on shaky legs before turning you around in front of the mirror. “Want you to watch,” he murmured in your ear as he stroked at his cock. You steadied yourself on the sink as he pushed your back down, eyes fixed on his reflection as he lined his head up with your entrance.

He thrust into you hard, his thick shaft stretching your walls as you cried out. You could feel him in your stomach, feel every twitch of his cock deep in your core. His hands were tight around your waist, sliding himself in and out of you as your ass slapped against his hips. Your knuckles were white as you gripped onto the sides of the sink, head lulling as he worked at your sweet spot. He stilled for a second, one hand moving to land a firm smack onto your ass, before wrapping it around your throat and pulling your back flush to his front. “Look at me,” he growled in your ear, hand tightening until you stared back into the mirror with darkened eyes. “Good girl,” Harry mewled, loosening his grip when your gaze met his. Your hand pressed over his, wordlessly begging him to keep the pressure around your throat. He smirked against your ear, splaying his free hand across your stomach as he thrust into you again, groaning as he felt your skin bulging where he pushed into you. He never lasted long after the rush of a performance, the nerves and excitement always transforming into a rock hard cock, a need to fuck his fist to come down from from the high. Watching your tits bounce as he rocked into you, he was close. His thrusts became sloppier as he throbbed inside of you, the sounds of skin on skin all he could focus on. His hand pulled you closer into him, bodies flush as he painted your walls with his come, hard and warm as he cried out your name.

—

You pulled him towards the bed, already needy for round two. Your naked bodies were pressed together as you stumbled blindly over discarded clothes and shoes, hands exploring every part of each other’s bodies. And then someone knocked on the door, pulling you out of the paradise you’d found in Harry. “Ignore it, they’ll go away,” he whispered, pulling your head back to face him. But as his lips found yours once again, the knocks came harder against the wood. Harry groaned as he pulled away from you, quickly yanking his boxers on as you hid out of view. He cracked open the door, mouth dropping open as he was met with Sarah. “Oh,” she said as she looked between him and the door number. “I thought this was y/n’s room, have you seen her?” He shook his head, uttering a quick apology before slamming the door shut before she heard you giggling behind him.

“That was close,” he murmured, a deep blush creeping up his cheeks as he joined you on the bed. It would already be complicated enough when you woke up in his arms, you’d already have enough to answer for when the band questioned your two early disappearances. But right now your bubble was protected, your joy still hovering over you in the form of Harry’s smile, and that was all you needed for now.

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @sturnioloenthousiast @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @poojasdesk @averytermaat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @kkr102 @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @mema10 @annageeeezzzz @ppleasingg @cicicavill7 @drewsephrry @tswiftsgf @ashleighsss @bikestyles @he6rtshaker @prettygurl-2009

[springsylph]

+18, mdni. uhhh tiny gaz x f! reader thing?? i don’t know. wrote this on my phone and she’s unedited. also. the ending is getting cut short because i said so.

mentions of alcohol, fingering, pussy slapping (1)

thinking about introverted reader showing up to a college party with every intention of leaving once that stupid hello kitty clock on the shelf hits 11:30.

it helps that you enter the apartment with your headphones already on; most people weren’t willing to put in the extra work to talk to someone so obviously prepped to leave.

you get there at 11:15—no earlier—because you’ve got a 15 minute routine when it comes to shit like this. show your face, hide, and leave before the drinking games get rowdy enough to warrant having the police bust their knuckles open on the front door.

granted, you really did try to stick this one out. your closest friend—who, apparently, was much closer to the organizer of this thing than she was to you—had dragged you along with her after as a show of goodwill. something about getting you out of the apartment long enough for people to know that you have tits.

which, in hindsight, should have been a warning. the split of a train whistle just before it veers off the tracks.

the living room, painted with bits of a fiery orange from some dodgy led lights, has begun to sting your eyes. you’re plastered to the corner in a top that isn’t yours, trying (and failing) to breathe air that’s too hot, too sticky, drenched in a mix of sweat and some idiot’s cheap cologne. the cup you hold only catches glimpses of the music, pulsating in time with the wall. it’s basically empty, but you hold it like it’s heavy. most of the people around you are already too inebriated to know the difference.

the crash comes when someone taps two fingers on your elbow.

“headphones at a party?”

your reaction is slow. when you turn, your first thought is that you’ve seen his face on a pack of men’s underwear somewhere. he must be thinking something similar, because he leans up against the wall like he’s in it for the long haul before sizing you up.

“i’ve seen you somewhere before, haven’t i? ‘round campus?”

you shrug to ward off the urge to shrink. “maybe,” you reply. “i don’t think my face is that memorable, but i appreciate the attempt at a pickup line.”

he smiles, then, like he does know you. brown eyes glowing like hot coals.

“not quite what i meant,” he says, “but i think you look plenty memorable.”

a squirmy feeling in your throat you thought you’d flattened a lifetime ago resurfaces. fuck—fuck. of course that isn’t what he meant. embarrassment is what begins to peel your sweaty back off the wall. you’ll have to apologize to your friend later, but the empty hallway is calling your name.

just as you’re about to excuse yourself, he slides a warm hand up to your shoulder, just a little too close to where it meets your neck. you shoot him a look, and he beams.

“loud in here, isn’t it?” he taps his ears. leans a little closer, even though the music isn’t that loud, and lowers his voice as if confessing some dirty secret. “truth is, i hate showing up to these things.”

your brows furrow. “…you do?”

he scoots a little closer, crowding you into the corner. “too many people i have to play nice with. the only reason i’m here is to make sure my roommates stay out of trouble.”

“oh. you—you live here?”

“unfortunately. but,” he divulges, “that also means i know the best hiding spots.” a decision is made—one final spark that sets the train ablaze. he slides an arm over your shoulders, thumb tracing absentmindedly over the strap of your top as his weight settles over you. “looking for some peace and quiet, right?”

you can’t tell if he’s being nice, or if he’s just a little weird. weird, only because he seems a little too perfect.

you have a tendency to resonate with weirdos. mostly to your detriment.

but—you’re not quite sure how you’d categorize this.

he’s got you sitting on his bed, back pressed to his chest with a hand shoved down the front of your underwear—no outside clothes on the bed, love—before you know what’s happening.

you gasp when the elbow he’s got hooked around your neck tips your chin up.

“kyle—”

“shh, shh. what’d i tell you, sweetheart?”

“f-focus, i—hck—know, but—”

he slaps a wet hand over your cunt, and your vision goes spotty. you’re not sure how long he’s been knuckle deep inside of you. between the grunting in the shell of your ear and the sound of your own arousal filling the small room, you’ve lost track of time.

kyle presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head before sliding two fingers back in.

“not so bad, is it?” he coos, allowing himself another kiss to your temple. “just needed a firm hand to keep you company, that’s all.”

he grinds the heel of his palm up against your clit, interrupting the lazy pace he’s set when you writhe against him. it doesn’t deter him like you thought it would, evident by the way his hand seems to pull your pelvis closer to where his cock has hardened in his boxers.

your hips jump when he curls his fingers over that spongy spot inside of you. mind fuzzy, ears ringing, you watch with him. entranced by the languid push and pull of his hand, the sight now blurry from the tears clumping your eyelashes together.

“no reason a pretty girl like you should be out here by herself,” he mutters. half to himself, maybe to you. he slides his sticky hand out, pulls the mess up to your bellybutton before plunging his fingers into your folds again. “fuck—and you feel divine—”

your walls tremble around him when the arm around your neck tightens ever so slightly.

“kyle, i—”

you what?

go on, tell him. he’s listening. there’s nobody here, except for the two of you.

“please let me cum, please please p-please—”

but kyle is in his own world, moves on his own time, with his own rules, and you’re under his jurisdiction.

you should know this by now.

he yanks his fingers out just as that cord in your belly has become nothing more than a thread before stuffing his digits into your open mouth.

he doesn’t have to tell you what to do. suck. but, as your tongue lolls out to swipe around his fingers, you catch his eye from over your shoulder.

you’re not too sure you know what you’re looking at.