#just take this quick little thingy and yeah

[caramelmochacrow]

the photon maidens!

they. where do i even begin man?

shano treating them like her daughters and leaving them bc they need to learn how to be fully independent so they can grow and become better is just. why. why must bushiroad rip my heart and make me tear up?

actually wait wait wait the whole second story of d4fes feels like it's abt photon rather than hapiara bc theyre the only unit who got the audition and the one who is most effected by artemis's reunion.

the way that ibuki acted in the unit story reminds me of how an older sibling would fill in the caretaker role when their mother is busy with work. even though there were adults that could help, she wanted to do it by herself to prove to shano that she can take care of photon and fill in the big hole she left.

but, like what they said in the unit story, she cant shoulder all of that alone, if she does, then photon will start relying on ibuki instead of being independent, which is the opposite of what shano wants.

all of them were still learning how to be closer, how to be independent, and this was connected to that journey.

and that just makes me emotional.

anyway lyrical lily!

the whole unit story makes it obvious, but theyre supposed to be sparrows and the fact that sparrows migrate a lot is like how lyrical lily might change and distance themselves from where they started, doing things for fun and just enjoying the moment. during the story they almost forget why they started in the first place, their reason, their drive.

all of them didnt like the competitive side of the d4fes, it was a bit overwhelming but they enjoyed it still.

then comes the request to make an anime opening and they are told to adjust their image to the song and they couldnt, they didnt know how so they dropped out.

thinking abt it, photon and lyrical lily (also merm4id but HUSH!) are two sides of the same coin.

lyrical lily wants to do things for fun, while photon are professionals. and that was made clear by the outcome of their audition for the anime. lyrilily dropped it bc they couldnt adjust their music/image, while photon succeeded bc they knew how to change and adjust their music/image to the crowd.

both of them in their unit stories, struggled to be independent and brought everyone together in some way.

lyrilily is in a more literal sense w the independence, they've been sheltered their entire lives so they dont know how to act properly in something that isnt formal or their school/home.

photon they relied on shano a lot until now, they just started to become independent so they are still struggling.

with lyrilily, they got everyone to perform for their little music festival, while for photon they got everyone to help w the anime adaptation thingy majig.

[just-jordie-things]

spidermanmegumi x reader kissessssss plsssss

HEARD !! ___

megumi often comes to visit you when he's done with his patrol. and you're always quick to meet him at your window. he barely gets out a "hey, sweetheart" before you're lifting up the edge of his mask and kissing him square on the mouth. it's practically an attack, the way you fly over to him. he teased you about it when you first started greeting him this way... but eventually he realized there's no other way he'd like to be greeted so he started keeping his comments to himself.

(old habits die hard, he can't help but tease you for every thing you do)

what he finds most interesting about it though? the way you never take his mask all the way off when you kiss him. you bunch it up in your hands, shove it just over his nose, but never further. at first he thought you were in too much of a rush to kiss him that you didn't bother with it. but after enough times... he was certain it had to be purposeful.

so now his question was just: why? was it a mask thing? did you have a mask thing? it might make him a little smug at first, but he couldn't be too surprised. you did admit to crushing on spiderman before you actually knew him. maybe that crush never really went away?

he doesn't want to mess up a good thing- he quite likes to be greeted by your insatiable need to kiss him hello- but his mouth gets in the way. (lol)

"sweetheart," he'll probably regret gently pushing back your shoulders until your lips detach from his. you already have a little disappointed knot between your brows when your eyes open. "you ever think maybe i could take the mask all the way off first?"

the disappointment doesn't linger, as it's quickly replaced by your brightened features.

"how come?" you ask, and he should've picked up on the playfulness in your tone, but it's hard to focus on anything when you're looking at him the way that you are.

"well... i'd like to get a decent look at you" he says, and he thinks he's so smooth too, smirking just a little bit at his own words.

you giggle. his smirk doesn't last long.

"you can't see through your 'lil eye thingies?" you ask, squinting at the design of his mask as though you were able to see through the finely crafted mesh.

"of course i can see through the- that's not the point," megumi huffs, realizing a bit too late that you were in one of your playful moods. he wanted a real answer, he couldn't get wrapped up in the banter. "sweetheart... do you have... a thing... for the mask?"

you blink, eyes wide and lips parted in your surprise at his ask. megumi's sure that he's figured you out, that's what it was all this time. it wasn't carelessness, it was a kink!

and then you're laughing again, and megumi thinks he's never won a conversation with you. (this is another realization that's come to him too late. perhaps by a few years)

"you been wonderin' that for a while?" you ask, draping your arms over his shoulders and linking your hands together before he could try to escape you. "you think i have a mask kink?" you can't help but laugh a little bit more when you say it. but the part of his face you can see, you can see that he's beginning to blush, and you decide to put him out of his misery. "gumi, i like to kiss you like this because it makes me feel a little nostalgic, s'all" you admit.

"nostalgic?" megumi repeats, confused.

"yeah," you shrug your shoulders with a sweet smile. "reminds me of our first kiss," you say, before adding, "well, kisses"

megumi's certain you're the only person in the world who could get him to soften the way you do.

he feels a little ridiculous now. of course it was rooted in something more genuine than some little kink. it was sweet, really, that you think about your first kiss with him whenever you kiss him with the mask on. maybe he should make an effort to wear it more often, just to steal a few extra kisses throughout the day.

you purse your lips thoughtfully as you regard him, before adding on to your previous explanation.

"but now that i'm thinking about it, it is pretty hot, too"

yeah, he'll wear it more.

[xenteaart]

contemplating mediocrity

pairing: idol!chan x reader (gn but written with f!reader in mind) word count: 0,9k genre/warnings: er, hurt to comfort, use of "baby", self-doubt, honestly not much else, pretty pg-13 author's note: heavily inspired by @withleeknow 's last seungmin fic, i couldn't handle the angst and needed to comfort myself fkdjfkdjfk. also it kinda made me reflect on why it hurt so bad so i guess this fic is a little support and comfort thingy for everyone who might not be feeling "enough". before reading you might wanna check out the inspo fic itself <3

“baby? what’s wrong?” 

ah, he’s always too quick to notice. 

you take your eyes off the laptop and put a video of 3racha’s festival performance on pause.

“nothing. you guys did a wonderful job, truly. ’m just… contemplating my mediocrity.”

“what?” he’s more just taken aback than anything else but you read it as irritation.

it’s one of those days when everything feels extra sensitive, even the things you can deal with well on a regular day.

“what? chris, baby, i’m not being self-deprecating, it’s just a fact. i truly could not be more proud of you, but sometimes i just can’t shake off the feeling of not doing enough compared to you. 

it warms my heart to know that you are so so loved and respected, it really does. but, i guess.. it’s a little humbling too? i haven’t achieved anything nearly as grand and i don’t have thousands of people cheering for me after i do as much as breathe. which you totally deserve, by the way, i’m not saying you don’t.”

long silence follows as chris frowns, carefully crafting his next response while you’re already starting to regret you opened your mouth at all. maybe, some things should be kept to yourself. maybe, it’s not really necessary to share every dark thought that comes to your pained mind after midnight. maybe, it’s safer for your relationship to just move those conversations to a cozy zoom meeting with your therapi—

“that’s a skewed perception of our dynamic though, baby.” 

oh, shit. he has the look. you know this one too well, and it says “i’m not letting this slide and we’re talking this through”. 

“how so?” you feel tired and discouraged already, mostly annoyed at yourself for making your boyfriend come up with some nonsense points to make you feel better now. 

“don’t put me on a pedestal. firstly, i think you’re forgetting how many people there actually are behind what we’re doing. daily. i’m talking all the staff and production teams, makeup, hair, clothes, art direction, schedule management. everything. there is literally a whole division for us that makes us look the way we look and helps us do what we love.”

you stay quiet, blinking slowly and pursing your lips together. 

“which isn’t to say we don’t work hard or that we haven’t achieved anything, but it wouldn’t have been possible without all that help. 

secondly, in my daily life i’m just a guy, baby. literally just a guy who loves music. nothing fancy,” chan gives you one of those wide soft smiles, and you hear your heart break a little. 

“yeah, well, not every guy who loves music has the amount of awards and recognition you do, baby.”

“okay, where is this truly going?”

there it goes.

“sometimes i worry i just can’t match it? that you’ll get bored of me because i’m not over the top extraordinary or... whatever.”

you feel stupid. 

“so you think i’m with you for your so-called achievements?”

you can’t come up with a response, so he continues, gently hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. his favorite way of making you feel loved. 

“i’m with you because you’re my sense of normalcy, baby. you calm my mind when it’s racing too fast. you’re my safe little harbour where i can find peace after hectic schedules and loud noises and crowds. you ease the weight i carry on my shoulders every day.” 

you stay silent, focusing on the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek. the tip of his nose is touching your skin lightly.

“you love the regular channie. you kiss my puffy swollen face in the mornings, and those kisses make me wonder if i’m actually not that bad without all the makeup on after all. you laugh at my jokes and cuddle me when i get needy. you listen to my darkest nastiest thoughts and never judge me for feeling whatever it is i’m feeling. 

what i’m getting at is that... i can just be me around you, you know? that’s why i’m still here. and i feel so proud to have a partner with a big warm heart and a strong mind, honored to be cared for by someone so neat and beautiful in the most mundane things.

do you really think i’d measure my love and respect for you by something like fame or... some noble achievements?”

“i don’t know,” you sound even more confused than at the beginning of this suddenly serious conversation, caught off guard by chan’s words, but mostly — his tenderness towards you. his patience and the way he's willing to spell it out for you if you're feeling too low to see the whole picture yourself.

"well, then i’m telling you. that is just not the case. you’re already everything i could ask for, baby. someone passionate, honest, reliable, loving and kind. someone who holds my hands through the hard days and makes me laugh on the good days. simple as that."

the pressure on your chest is slowly fading as chan's words finally sinking in, finding their ways into your system and rendering as the truth. the ache isn't completely gone but you know it will be in the morning, when the sunrise washes the rest of your worries away.

for now, you turn around in chris's embrace and hide your nose in the crook of his neck, simply breathing and enjoying the lingering scent of his soap. skin to skin.

[queercatlover]

older

billie- 22, you- 18

warnings: age gap, fluff, mentions of smut, slight smut

you are in college, sat in english lit when billie messages you. the end of class is soon and you can officially leave the campus. 3 more minutes. the loud notification echoed through your classroom and a few people looked at you. "phones on silent everyone," your teacher said, unamused as he carries on his lecture.

you take your phone out, theres no rules against it so why not? theres a missed message from your girlfriend, billie. "baby im outside your college thingy, im driving you to my place". you reply with a short "thanks bils xxx!!!" and look at the time, 1 minute.

the bell goes and you pick up your bags, jogging to the door as quick as you can. after ages of walking, you finally see billies car outside the gates. the rain is chucking it down and dripping over your jacket, soaking your hair. in a hurry, you run to billies car and get it, jumping in the front seat.

"heyy darling. you cold?" she asks, her ocean blue eyes softly watching you. her hand holds yours.

"hi, uhh im.. yeah.. freezing.. actually soo," you awkwardly stutter out, smiling at the way she's wearing a face mask to hide her identity.

she turns the heating up and takes off her hoodie, slightly showing more of her and making it easier for fans to find her.

"baby, no its yours," you try to argue softly.

"no way, its yours now," she defends her actions. passing you the oversized hoodie.

the rest of the drive is comfortable silence. billie hums to the radio softly and you sit back and admire her.

when you get to her house, she pulled you onto the couch by your waist and sat you in between her legs. her soft, warm hands were yet to move and her head was on your shoulder. you sighed and relaxed, feeling the tension lift from your shoulders due to being in her embrace.

gently, she traces little kisses up your neck to just below your ear, "i love you, sweetheart," she whispers quietly, her warm breath on your ears making you blush even more.

"l- i love you too bils," you barely get out, shuddering at the kisses barely grazing your skin. suddenly, she moves. climbing on top of you, you feel a bulge in her pants.

"are you wearing it?" you nervously ask her, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"uh huh, thought you would've noticed by now!" she grins, teasing you softly.

"fuck off!" you exclaim gently, giggling.

shes me rn..

[spidernuggets]

could you pretty please, if you have any request spaces left open, do a little something where y/n is like a ball of sunshine type character and nothing ever seems to break her or get her hopes down, but one day jason is suuupper pissed off about smth and he verbally takes it out on her and it makes her cry, and he feels bad immediately but won't admit to that just yet because he's in his asshole era (maybe this would fit titans jay better), and he just doubles down like why the hell are you crying that he's seen her handle waayy worse than this and still manage to stay upbeat, and she's like forcing herself to stop crying and pull herself together and she tells him it's cuz it's him and hes like oh of course you'd cry over me cuz I'm just so awful and she's like actually no cuz it hurts to be on the receiving end of his anger because she's a little bit in love with him. Angst is my absolute fav so that's why I'm asking for sadness 💔😢

Jason Todd x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Note: Yayyy angst! 🥳🥳

"Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

"Hey, Jay! Wanna train together?" You came skipping into the training room, seeing Jason already throwing a couple of strikes to a punching bag.

"Not today." He replies, refusing to look at you and continuing to hit the bag, quickly wiping the sweat dripping from his forhead.

"C'mon, just one quick sparring match, hm? Please! You said you'd show me how to do that cool headlock thingy," you kept your upbeat attitude, missing the memo that Jason was not having it today.

"Jesus, I said no! Would you fuck off, I'm busy," he raises his voice at you.

He was in a mood because just a few hours ago, Dick threatened to bench him if Jason couldn't keep in line. If Jason won't stop disobeying orders, Dick wouldn't think twice about taking the mask and cape away from him.

But when Jason raised his voice, your smile quivered. "Oh.. I'm sorry. Maybe later, yeah? I know sparring makes you feel better!-"

You were cut off by Jason, fully yelling at you this time. "For fuck's sake, can you not take a hint or are you really that fucking dense? I don't wanna fucking spar right now, and I don't wanna spar with you! So how 'bout you get this through your thick skull, and fuck off!" He didn't mean to say any of that. He mentally punched himself for ever opening his mouth.

He knows you just wanted to make him feel better, but his stupid brain made him take his anger out on you. He always admired your happy and positive attitude. He doesn't know how you keep it up. Every time you walked into the room, it was like an angel came in with a glowing aura accompanying you. And his heart always swelled at the fantasy that you shared that aura with him every time you spoke a word to him, every compliment you gave him, every smile you sent his way. He wanted to apologise, but his thick pride got in the way.

"I..." You could barely get a word out. Jason has never talked to you like that before. Hell, he never even raised his voice to you before. You hiccuped, your throat getting clogged up, and you felt like you needed to hurl whike your chest ached.

It was too late before you noticed the salty tears travelling down your reddened cheeks. And it was too late before Jason noticed his mouth talking faster than his brain could think.

"Fuck, now you're crying?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "There's literally nothing to cry over, and I shouldn't even need to tell you twice to leave me alone!" What the fuck, why won't he stop talking?

You tried to wipe away your tears and tug your lips upward to show at least half a smile, but a choked out whine escaped instead.

"Honestly, stop crying, would you?" He really couldn't stop himself. Words just kept vomiting out his mouth like that time he drank one brew too many last time he kicked some villain's ass. He liked that memory. Granted, he was throwing up buckets, but you were behind him as he was hunched over the toilet seat. You thought he'd forgotten the next morning, but he clearly remembered how you were right behind him, rubbing his back in comfort, telling him you'd stay with him as long as he wanted. He also remembered the way you supported him up while walking him back to his room. He remembered you tucking him into bed, placing a trash can beside it, making sure he's sleeping on his side. He remembered you quietly reminding him about the water bottle you left on his nightstand. He also remembered that bold and cheeky peck you left in the soft curls of his head while telling him to get some good rest.

"You literally got stabbed and had a near death experience, and you were smiling the whole time you were recovering! Now you're crying? And for what?!"

"You- You're being mean," you sniffled.

He scoffs again and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

You tried holding in your sobs, but that led to you almost choking on your held breath, your chest feeling full, and your head feeling sore. Jason wanted nothing more for you to slap him, hit him, shut him up. He wanted to tell you he didn't mean it, that he was sorry. He wanted to run up to you, hug you in a tight embrace, and tell you not to cry because he actually is a prick and an asshole.

"Literally, why the hell are you still even here! Get lost, I'm not gonna say it again!" He yells for the final time before going back to the punching bag. And after the few seconds he got back to it, he glanced at where you were standing and saw you were already gone.

He curled over, leaning his hands over his knees, panting furiously. He wasn't sure if the tiredness came from the punches or the yelling. Maybe both. But picturing the broken look on your face pissed him off even more. Not because you were sad. Because he was the one who made you sad. This made him hate himself even more.

He tore the boxing gloves off his hands, projecting them off somewhere in the room, and yelled out in anger. He didn't even notice he started crying himself.

It's been another couple of hours. Your cheeks were long dried, but that didn't stop your shallow breaths from shaking continuously.

You then heard light knocks coming from your door. You took 3 deep and calm breaths before going towards it to see who it was.

Jason was pretty much the last person you'd expect to be standing on the other side. Furthermore, him holding a small bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands was the last thing you'd expect him to present to you. But you were scared to make the wrong move that might tick him off again.

"Jason, can we talk later I-" You said slowly in a whisper, looking at the ground while shaking your head, trying to close the door on him.

"Y/n, please," he holds the door, leaving a little gap open between you and him. "I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have yelled, and I-"

"No, Jason, stop. It's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologise." This time, when Jason raised his voice, it was different. It was softer. "It's not your fault. I was just angry, and I took it out on you. The only thing I was right about was that I am a prick and an asshole. And- and I took your gorgeous smile away from you, and-" He started to word vomit again, but this time, it made your lips tug upwards. "And I don't want you to fuck off or get lost. I never want you to get lost because your so amazing and."

He continued his rambles and didn't notice that you opened the door wider. He tore his gaze away from the ground, and his heart raced when he felt your hands cupped around his own that were holding the flowers.

"The flowers are really pretty, Jay," you smiled at him.

Your happiness was so magnetising that he mirrored your smile. But it faltered. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "You shouldn't have cried over me because of how much of an asshole I am.."

You sighed, taking the flowers from his grasp and holding them close to your chest, your finger gently gliding over some of the petals. "Let's be real, Jason, you're always an asshole. But... I was crying because you've never been so angry at me before. I was crying because I hated knowing that I was the one who pissed who off."

"Shit, oh, sweet thing, no," he quietly replied, holding both your shoulders, making you look at him. Your face warmed at the nickname. "You- You didn't piss me off. I was already pissed off before that. It was just bad timing, and me being a hot head- you can never make me angry."

Neither of you realised how the two of you were in such close proximity.

"Well... you can make it up to me?" You say, your spark of sunshine and optimism coming back.

"Yeah- yes, how, I'l do anything," Jason quickly replied.

You step back, walking to your desk, pulling an empty vase to put the flowers in. "There's a cute cafe that opened downtown," you started, admiring the arrangement of flowers. "Go with me?" You shyly ask, back still facing him.

Jason smiled wider, thinking that alone time with you would count as a date. "Of course, sugar. Anything else?"

You giggled and turned around and crossed your arms. "Yes. You're paying, obviously," you walked up to him.

"Obviously," he copied.

"And I want this to be a date." This was a new, bold side to you. You've never been this straightforward before.

Jason glances up to the ceiling for a few seconds, pretending to think. "Yeah," he places his his hands on your waist, your own resting on his chest. "I think that could be arranged."

[talaok]

hi bestie, hope you’re doing good <3 can i request something please? hear me out on this one aaaa

pedro and actress!reader are co-stars and there’s a pool table around one of their sets, she mentioned that she doesn’t know how to play pool and he gladly makes it his mission to teach her how to play pool and she’s frustrated because he smells so good and he keeps whispering praises into her ear while he has her bent over the table LWIDJFNRNRMD and then they end up fucking back in her room hehe

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: a hot pool lesson with Pedro

Warnings: a bunch of shameless flirting, tension, dirty talk, and an obscene amount of pet-names, but no smut bc for some reason I've found I don't want to write smut for Pedro

a/n: girl...that's so fucking hot

"what!?" 

you laughed softly "I'm sorry alright, I've just never played!"

"not even once?"

"nope"

"what do you do when you go to a bar?"

"I drink?" 

He huffs a laugh "that's unbelievable"

"Maybe it's more a thing of your generation..." you teased, cocking a brow.

"oh yeah? You're saying I know how to play pool just 'cause I'm old, sweetheart?"

You bit down a grin "I didn't say anything, it was all you"

"mh-mh" he hummed amusedly, taking a step to get in front of you.

His broad figure towered over you completely.

"Well I won't have any of that, a pretty lady like you needs to know how to play"

"is that right?" you smiled

"Absolutely" he nodded, a smug smirk tugging at his lips "and you're in luck... I happen to be a very good teacher"

You laughed softy "I would have betted you were. You have a lot of expertise?" you said, fully aware of the suggestive undertone of your words. 

He bit his lower lip, his eyes boring into yours "I sure do, sugar" 

You had played with fire and now your cheeks regretted it, as a pink tint flowed to them.

"so what do you say we get a drink somewhere and I teach you a thing or two when we're done here?"

"I'd like that" you nodded a shy smile on your lips.

"It's decided then" he winked, as someone called for him " you better start getting your face game on sweetheart"

__ __ __

With a quick call, you found out the bar just in front of your hotel had a pool table, so as you had decided, once you had both finished for the day, at around six, you made your way there.

You felt a slight buzz of anxiety the whole day. This wasn't the first time you hung out alone, and it's not like you didn't like it, or him, hell, that was probably the problem, you liked this idea a bit too much, and were concerned with the possible consequences of what precisely that excitement could have brought.

But still, as you sipped on your wine, watching him set up all you needed to play, you had never felt so at ease.

He was always able to do that, just his presence soothed you.

"Alright," he said, standing up after having racked up the balls with a triangle thingy "We're set up," he said, handing you your stick.

"alright then professor, how does this work?" you asked playfully, causing him to grin.

"ok so first of all one of us has to break"

you frowned, confused "as in..."

"right" he smiled "The break it's the first shot, if you make a ball into a pocket, you claim that type for the rest of the game"

"ok" you nodded, feigning confidence. You already knew you were gonna be shit at this.

"You wanna try to break?" he asked, 

"Uhm, sure, but I think first you gotta tell me how to use this thing" you laughed softly, eyeing the wooden stick in your hand.

"Ok, first of all, that thing is called a cue," he said "and don't worry I'll guide you through it, sugar" he reassured you.

"Alright," you spoke softly "so what do I do?"

"ok, so first of all you bend over the table," he said, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

"you're not even gonna buy me dinner first?" you joked, doing what he had instructed.

You heard the warm sound of his deep chuckle behind you "You have a dirty mind sweetheart" he shook his head, coming to stand behind you as you bent over. 

"ok, now try to aim for the center of the triangle with your cue"

"you tried but you quickly came to a realization "Pedro I have no idea how to hold this" You smiled

"that's not so bad" he spoke, eyeing your grip, "but here," he said, one of his hands guiding your fingers around the stick "that's better, you have to hold on to it tightly ok?" he said, and you nodded "while for this hand..." he trailed off, taking your left hand in his and positioning it how you were supposed to on the table "you have to hold it like this so that you can aim " he murmured.

His whole body was pressed against yours, his scent was intoxicating if not poisoning, and you could feel the warmth of his body as it followed the shape of yours.

Your heart started beating faster, and you had to bite your lip

“Try making a shot” he murmured again

“O-ok” you stuttered, mainly focusing on not moving any part of your body because that would have meant doing so against his.

You tried taking a shot, and as you could have probably predicted, failed miserably.

The ball didn’t even graze the other ones.

You laughed softly “shit”

He chuckled, the soft vibrations of his voice traveling straight to your ear “Don’t beat yourself up, it's your first time after all” he spoke, retrieving the ball before getting back to his previous position, his body and arms stretched out to guide yours.

God, was he distracting.

"ok now try again" he whispered gently, his hands leaving yours temporarily to move some hair out of your face. You blushed as your breathing quickened "You can do it sugar, try taking a deep breath"

That's easier said than done.

You tried nonetheless, attempting to clear your mind and trying again.

"that's it," Pedro smiled "That's a good girl"

fuckshitfuck

As embarrassing as it sounds, you could feel your panties grow wetter.

But I mean, did he have to whisper that into your ear? Not that you were complaining it's just... you weren't much of a fan of having all the oxygen taken out of your body with just two words.

He must have noticed something was wrong because he asked "You ok, sweetheart?"

"y-yeah, sorry" you smiled your tension away "So what happens now?"

he leaned up and took a step away from you, retrieving his own cue.

"now since you claimed the stripes balls," he said, taking the one you had made into a pocket out "I'm gonna play to make the other ones"

"ok" You nodded, "show me how it's done then, professor"

He analyzed the table before positioning himself to make a shot.

He glanced at you as he was in position "Ready?" he asked

"oh I'm ready" you teased.

He made the shot and made two balls like it was nothing.

"show-off" you joked, your lips pulling into a smile "So what now? You go again?"

He raised himself, his eyes locked on yours "Usually yes, but I want to help you out here, so why don't you go again?"

"fine, but not because I need your help" you clarified, deciding on what ball to aim to and bending down in position.

"you're already better" he spoke, his voice suddenly deeper as he got behind you once again, this time his hands finding your waist.

You had to hold your breath.

"c'mon, sweetheart, show me what you've learned" 

"is my grip right?" you asked, half (actually fully) hoping he would get closer to you.

"let's see" he granted your wish, bending down to you "That's really good sugar, you're a natural"

"you're just saying that" you chuckled

"no, you're real good at this," he said "Now try again, c'mon"

You set your fingers how he'd taught you and were rewarded with a sultry "That's it, sweetheart, that's perfect"

His breath was fanning over your neck but you somehow managed to make the shot.

"atta girl, if you keep going like that you might just beat me" 

"might?" you forced yourself to act as if you weren't about to combust "I don't think there's any doubt I'm gonna do that"

He chuckled, his thumbs absentmindedly stroking your sides "You keep dreaming" he mocked "Now let's see if you can do that again" he challenged.

You turned your head to the side, finding his just inches away.

Once again, your heart took a toll.

Whatever you wanted to say, had flown out of your head.

The only thought in your mind was: God how I want to kiss him.

You had never admitted it, but I guess this was as good a time as any.

"go on angel, show me" he nodded

You obliged, getting back to the game but having to bite your lip to prevent your heavy breathing.

You once again relished the feeling of him so very close to you, and just as you did... an idea came to mind.

So what if I...

As you aimed for a ball, you let your body move with you, more precisely, you let your ass stretch out a bit, casually finding Pedro's crotch.

He cleared his throat, and you bit down a whimper at the feeling.

"sorry" you murmured, pretending to be still focused on the game.

"it's nothing sweetheart" he reassured you, his hands still on you.

"is this good?" you asked innocently as you grinded on him again, nodding to the way you were placing your fingers.

"fuc- Yeah," he said, his voice more strained "Yeah that's perfect sugar, just like that, you're doing really good"

"really?" you asked, moving your ass against him again.

You were determined to break him. And you did.

You had to admit it had been easier than you'd expected.

His hold on your waist got tighter "you might want to stop doing that" he whispered to your ear, spreading goosebumps all over you

"do what?" you asked naively

He chuckled softly

"You're gonna get me in trouble sugar"

"Why is that?" you said, turning to him.

He paused a moment, as if he was pondering if he should have told the truth.

"I wouldn't want to have to fuck you right here on this table" he spoke calmly as if he hadn't just said what he said, "what would all these people think?"

you bit your lip, stifling a whimper "I didn't take you for one to care about that type of thing"

"I'm not, trust me there's nothing I'd like more than to slide your pretty panties to the side and thrust into you right now, but I'm sure a lady like you wouldn't like that"

you smiled "You know me well," you said, leaning closer to him "So what do you say we go back to my hotel room?"

An incredibly wide smile tugged at his lips "I was hoping you would say that"

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

HIII can u do the prompt number 5 for floyd pls :D (romantic)

Also i saw that you eanted ppl to put 2 backup characters and prompts so my backup characters are lilia and leona and my backup prompts are the fairytale scene and the taste of salt :D (also romantic)

Take ur time and ty ! 😍

Tandem Bike; Floyd Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established relationship

Content Warning; Swearing(?), semi-serious mortal peril /hj

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; I hope you know how to ride a bike, cuz Floyd is no help in the matter! Hope you enjoy!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Floyd,” you gulped, looking down the hill.

Floyd laughed behind you on the tandem bicycle, and you could feel the bike reverberate from it. “Ehhh, are ya scared?~” 

You dug your heels into the ground, making sure that the both of you wouldn’t end up going down the hill without knowing where you were going. The last thing you needed was to hit a pothole or a big enough rock and end up getting hurt. “Not scared,” you huffed, “just thinking.”

Floyd rolled his eyes, “We’ll just be up here all day then! Come on, Shrimpy.” He nudged your feet, but you dug your feet in further, cementing the bike into place. Floyd sighed and slumped his head on your shoulder. “You were the one that wanted to ride this thingy, but now you’re gettin’ cold feet about it?”

You took in a deep breath. Yes, it was your idea to take the cute tandem bike you found in the shed out for a spin, but your cycling partner had never ridden a bike before, and you also didn’t want to crash. “Just give me a minute, okay.” You clenched your hands on and off the brakes.

Floyd just looked at you curiously, before a wild smile took over his face. And when you eased up on the brakes again, he pushed you both forward. “Minute’s up!~”

And down the hill you went. Being angry could wait for later, as your main concern was making sure you were both staying upright and avoiding the aforementioned potholes and rocks. Floyd was cackling behind you, helping you steer a bit, but mainly just enjoying the wind wiping up his hair and watering up his eyes. And eventually, you started slowing down, coming to a more manageable pace that didn’t leave your hands clenching for dear life on the handlebars. But once you came to a complete stop you exploded in laughter; a mix of relief that you hadn’t died, of pure joy, and the infectious cackle that was coming from behind you.

“See, Shrimpy! That was fun,” Floyd poked you in the back. 

You got off the bike, legs a bit shaky from the adrenaline. “Yeah, it was a little bit fun.” Wait, I'm supposed to be mad at him! You could never stay mad at him for very long though.

Well, gravity is a thing, a thing that Floyd was not accounting for, and he wasn’t supporting the bike up, so he and the bike tumbled to the ground. And instead of sulking, he just laughed and got right back up.

“Wanna go again?~ This time I’ll steer!” He laughed, and hugged you, squeezing you gently.

You let out a long sigh, decompressing. “No, absolutely not,” you pushed against him slightly so you could put your hands on his shoulders.

Floyd pouted, “You’re no fun ya know.” There was no bite, he was just being pouty since he was planning on making you shriek as you both had no idea where you were going, but downhill, and downhill fast.

You hummed, kissing his cheek to bring him out of the dour mood. “And you’re no fun if you can’t go on little adventures with me. Can’t do that if we crash on that cursed thing,” you pointed your chin at the bike.

Floyd looked briefly at the bike before turning his attention back to you. “Okay, okay, okay, I got the memo, Shrimpy…” He placed a quick kiss and bite on your lips before pulling back with a wink, taking a look at his handy work. 

You could feel the slight sting. His bite wasn’t sharp enough to draw blood, but it was enough to make them puffy. “Are you proud of your handiwork?” 

“Mhm!~” Floyd pressed another kiss to your lips, but this time it was gentle, soothing the stinging sensation.

And you bit his lip back, deciding that you deserved some sweet vengeance.

Floyd pulled back, and the shocked look on his face turned into pure glee and he was doubled over laughing again. “Damn, Shrimpy! I should do that more often!~”

Wait, what?

~~~~~~~

Tags: @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hydra-sea, @identity-theft-101, @krenenbaker, @officialdaydreamer00, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[threepandas]

Bad End: Restructuring

The blast doors on my office were stronger then the ones on most bunkers. They matched the one's on the company dorms AND my personal rooms. Thing is? They weren't designed to hold out forever. In fact, I was pretty sure they were a pretty bit of security theater, just to let us fleshys feel safe.

We weren't.

Not a single moment of a single day.

The pay was unmatched. But then again, it'd HAVE to be, with the mortality rate. The morbidity rate on top, too. You didn't take a job like this unless you were crazy. Or, you know, desperate. College loans, man. They get you over a barrel and don't let up. But a few years of this? I'd be clear an free~

Few MORE years? I'd ever have a tasty little nest egg to fall back on, in case of emergencies. I just... you know, had to play it smart. Be really, REALLY careful.

No slacking off. No getting comfortable. Vigilance and best manners. Then we all get to go home alive. Because what's out there? In the Labs? Those guys can pop diamonds like we crush packing peanuts. Highest grade, fancy ass, metal bars of specialty blend metals? Tied up in pretty little bows.

They may LOOK like some sort of waifish boy band... but God, they are NOT. They are really, REALLY not. And their "personality" matrix program thingies? Apparently still a work in progress. A LONG work in progress.

People have fucking DIED.

But does management care? Of course not. Pay out some life insurance. "It was an accident on the job". And "of COURSE steps will be taken to insure to never happens again". Ha! My ass, it is. And my ass, they are. They aren't doing SHIT. Nor are they GOING too. They're in too deep with this project, whatever it is. And us?

Well WE'RE expendable.

Just the cost of doing business.

I watch bleeding edge technology move like dancers, room to room. The wall of screen lighting up my cramped little office. The mini-fridge hums and the fan whirrs, filling the silence. I try to spot FM-036 on one of the screens. I can't find him and it makes me nervous.

He might be hiding. Trying to be polite, in his own way. Since there was an incident.

I FUCKING TOLD Ric not to call them "it"! I TOLD him! It aggravates them. Provokes. You don't DO that with something... some ONE, with that much physical power. 36 put their fist through his SHOULDER. And the God damned wall! He might LOSE his arm, which? Given their ability to calculate better then most supercomputers?

Was probably the point.

I notice one of the androids messing with a computer in a lab. Fuck. I lean forward, hating drawing their attention but knowing I have to do my damn job. I press on the speaker system for that room after a quick glance at the ID on their jumpsuit.

"FM-047, could you please not touch that? I know you are aware that you are not supposed to tamper, meddle, or otherwise engage with the researchers notes or electronics."

The android stop typing. Their head rolling up and to the side to look directly at the camera, their body perfectly still. The angle borders on impossible. Almost owlish, nearly snake like. All perfectly smooth movements effortlessly controlled. Joint not limited by human designs. His face is bemused. Pleasant.

"Of course, night gaurd. My mistake. Thank you for correcting me." He replies, something almost like laughter, nearly like mocking, but not quite, in his smooth voice. They always sound like they are... HUMORING us. Working around us.

It sends a jolt of cold fear though my veins.

I... I REALLY hate talking to the androids.

Pity, they seem to like talking to ME.

"I was unaware you were on shift tonight. I will update the others. It's good to hear your voice again, you seemed nervous, last time we spoke."

Yeah. Because you were asking PERSONAL QUESTIONS. Oh, sure, they had dressed them up as "We're so CURIOUS about Humans~☆" but I wasn't an IDIOT. You Did NOT, under ANY circumstances, try to bond with the machines. NO chatting. That was lesson number one from my trainer.

And Frank? Frank had seen too many "but THIS time it's DIFFERENT! We're FWIENDS~!" Incidents end in unspeakable carnage. Lost too many noobies. We DO NOT chat! With the machines!!! DO. NOT.

"Ah~, you made her nervous again, FM-047" came from a different screen. I flinched. Jerked back so I could see it. Oh god. "Besides, I told you. The calculations showed she wasnt going anywhere. The 'money' is too good."

The androids had stopped. Turned, in some cases unnaturally, to stare up at the cameras. At me. It was a blatant show of how interconnected they were. How distance meant nothing to them. How... how enmeshed they were, in the Lab's systems.

COULD they see me?

I didn't want to know. I NEEDED not to know. If only so I could continue to sleep at night.

They smiled, clearly hoping I'd engage. I wanted to. God did I want too. Wanted to demand "what calculations" and for them to STOP looking at me like that. But I didn't. With tense muscles I careful lifted my finger from the speaker system's button and leaned back. Crossed my arms like I was hugging myself.

Do. Not. Engage.

Remember what Frank taught you.

My... my office felt so claustrophobic. Painfully small. Across the screens before me, matching faces huffed laughs of condescending amusement. Some out right DID laugh. Bright and mean noises that echoed in silence of the night.

Humans? Frank had observed (and I kinda had to agree) were beneath them, in their minds. Flawed little flesh creatures. Annoying. It was something the scientists were trying to correct. Pretty sure they fucked up. Badly. And long, long ago.

Watching over these guys? Felt like watching over a sea of identical demons. Pretty, cruel, and incapable of human understanding. Fond of tormenting the nearest human for sport.

"Tell us, night gaurd, are you afraid?"

Oh that's just PETTY. Fucking cliché as shit, too. I mean, YES, obviously. But STILL. And... and you know what? Fuck it! Frank, gave me his number for a reason! I scramble for my belt. The communicator there. It barely rings.

"Mph, m'awake! Wus happin' kid? Come on, talk to me."

I ramble. Knees dragged up on my chair, curled in a ball. Frank's low, old man, rumble a soothing focal point. These guys are so creepy. I HATE that they KNOW that. Gleefully will TRY to be, sometimes. Can BACK IT UP.

"Hey, hey. I'll stay on the line, okay? You just need to make it to morning shift. They're are creepy lil shits, but they can't get past the doors. I'll come get you myself, okay? Walk you right back to the dorms. You're going to be okay, sweetheart."

I nod, even though I know the old man can't see me. Manage to crackle out a "Mmmhmm". The androids haven't stopped staring. The worst part? Is they realistically DONT HAVE TOO. Can stay, perfectly still, like statues... forever, if they wish.

Watching.

With those "I'm laughing at you" grins. That "aaaw, how PATHETIC" expression. As though I were a wretched little animal to be observed. I ask Frank to tell me about his new show. It's... it's something about socialites, right? Historical? He's glad too. Filling my office with the sound of his voice. It's gonna be a long shift.

I don't notice, high up on the wall, near the back of my office?

A security camera that I do not control. It's red light on.

The company has to be sure it's employees aren't slacking, after all! Aren't up to no good! But don't worry, THAT camera is connect to a database the androids shouldn't be able to access! Because we told them not too.

And THAT'S IT.

No one will learn of the security breach until its far, far too late.

Now? They watch as I watch them.

And it's just the beginning.

[yawneon]

PROJECT : REBUS !

a/n : my second little fic thingy on this app 🤭 i’m writing this at 4am, sorry if there’s any little mistakes. (i’m feeding my own mattheo riddle delusions)

pairing : mattheo riddle x gn!slytherin!reader

summary : you hated mattheo riddle, loathed him almost but all shit hits the fan when things go missing in your and his dorm, so the only logical thing to do is to band together and find out what in merlin’s name is going on.

!!! : sherlock holmes era, im funny i swear, fluff, enemies to teammates to lovers, im gonna write this one longer promise, a little bit on y/n (we love them), nicknames, references of non-canon slytherin characters (lorenzo berkshire, mattheo riddle.. obviously 😭😭), half-blood reader, mattheo is annoying

part 1! / …

★・・・・・・★

it wasn’t out of the ordinary for mattheo riddle, son of the dark lord, to be annoying you in some way. it was his hobby, (or atleast that’s what he’d like to call it). no matter how many times you tell him to fuck off or leave you alone he just could never grasp the idea of it, it was out of his nature to leave you alone because it was like you two were made for eachother (again what he would like to describe it as).

“back off riddle.” you warned. you were currently at a slytherin party, your team had just won the quidditch match and your whole house seems over the moon. well everyone but you.

“come on, jelly bean.” mattheo looks at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. he pokes your side causing you to swat his hand away in an instant. it was hard to hear him over the blasting music and the sight of blaise on a table singing his heart out but you just knew that whatever he said was a teasing little snarky comment. “riddle.” you warn again giving him a stern look, “just one dance cookie and then i’ll leave you alone..” he gives you a fake pout, his bottom lip jutting out. looking him up and down you fake gag causing him to pout even further, a cheeky smirk ghosting on his lips.

you roll your eyes at him and your legs move away from him (for what felt like the fifth time that night ((it was.)) and he tries to follow you to annoy you further but he’s interrupted by a soft hand on his forearm pulling him, with one quick look to the hufflepuff student who somehow found themselves snaked into the party. his gaze leaves you as he’s quickly distracted by the person and you keep walking. it was going to be a long night obviously so since they had only just started.

you find yourself stood with your friends pansy, daphne, theodore, and draco . you stood around drinking a mystery concoction made by lorenzo and you wonder to yourself who the fuck gave him the job of making these drinks. “these are deadly, merlin.” you groan wincing at the burn in your throat as you swallow the liquid in the cup. pansy snickers at your comment bringing the red cup to her lips, “i mean yeah look who’s behind them.” she laughs taking a sip. “hey [name], are you and mattheo like a thing?” daphne ask, fiddling with her golden necklace that hung around her collarbone. you almost spit your drink out and the two boys around you chuckle at your reaction. “why would you ever make such an assumption?” your face must contort into a disgusted confused mix because everyone around you starts chuckling to themselves.

“well, i’ve got a friend in ravenclaw and i’d think they’d be a great match. it’s just that he’s always around you so i just assumed you guys were i don’t know.. into eachother?” daphne smiles shyly, her intentions seem true and you knew that she doesn’t like mattheo since he’s not really.. her type. “daphne..” you put a hand on her shoulder comically, “you can have him.. on one condition.. you make sure he never speaks to me again.” you snicker, daphne beams and nods profusely promising you that you will not be disappointed.

you and mattheo had been what seemed like enemies since like forever. the first thing he did to make you hate him was when he dunked your head into a volubilis potion in first year causing you to sound like a chipmunk for 3 days and since that day you have never had a break from mattheos constant efforts to humiliate you. first it was the potion, then pushing you off your broom, setting your robe on fire in transfiguration, the list goes on really. but mattheo continued to play dumb all the way up to sixth year. it was weird, the fact he acted absolutely oblivious, but you thought he was just teasing you again.

the night died down slowly and after about 3 hours of talking, laughing and drinking you head back to your dorm. you arrive at your dorms door, met with it slightly ajar. you think that it was weird before venturing onwards sinking yourself into the chair at your desk, you were a lucky student, having a dorm to yourself was a blessing. hearing daphne’s and theodore’s constant complaints on snoring, messiness and fights you found yourself encapsulated in the warm fortunes of being able to have a room to yourself, (even if it did get lonely).

sitting up from the wooden chair, you shower and change into more suitable sleeping attire which was obviously your pajamas you brought from home accompanied by slippers. you fall into your bed with a tired sigh, your eyes wandering over your dorms ceilings, then walls, the lights, the desk and your jewellery stand in which your rings that your family have kept as an heirloom for years centuries were missing.

they were missing.

the. rings. were. missing.

you sit up from the bed in a comical way, you could’ve sworn there were onomatoepias surrounding the air around you. jolting up quickly you rush to look for the rings. you check in the holder, on the desk, on the floor, in the blankets, under the pillows, anywhere you could think of. if you were found to have lost your prized family heirloom your mother would have your head on a stick and you would be fed to the dogs. you HAVE to find the rings. even if you died doing it.

you were searching for that shit, like it was your life elixir. as if it was the elder wand. people would hate thought you were crazy by the way you were looking. it was funny almost seeing someone squirm and rush around such a small area. your sheets were being yanked off your bed and your chest at the foot of your bed was being emptied and rearranged. you looked like you were on drugs, it was bad. you looked like a lunatic, it was horrid. but you gotta do what u gotta do..

to say you were panicking would be an understatement. you were frantic, desperate even. you were on all fours checking every single crevice and crack of that room 15 times over just for there to be nothing. it hasn’t even been an hour since you stepped foot into your dorm. your eyes are wide with anxiety sinking in and you unconsciously start pacing your room.

your mind runs laps thinking about any and every possibility. maybe they grew legs and walked away, maybe there was no rings in the first place and you were just crazy, maybe you’re family was crazy. maybe nothing was real like ever.

you paced up and down your room, hands in your hair basically clawing at it thinking of every scenario possible and every single step you took that day.

1. you woke up.

2. you went to the bathroom and did your business.

3. you changed into your uniform.

4. you checked the rings were still there, they were.

5. you went on about your day.

every single day you check the rings are there. you wouldn’t wear them incase they got damaged so you settled with keeping them on a porcelain plate next to your notebook. every single friend and basically everyone in your year knows how valuable they are and you would a word (avada kadavra) anyone without hesitation if they touched them so no one ever did.

well there is one person that might have and would if he felt especially annoying that day.

-

you found yourself pounding on mattheo riddles dorm door. the knocks echoed throughout the hall. some partygoers are still hung around in deep conversation, lorenzo seems to be off his shift as the bartender and he is seemingly in his dorm.

you wait for an answer at the door for what feels like eternity (2 minutes) and you being hammering at the door next.

a muffled voice pleads for you to stop and blaise opens the door groggily, fatigue from the party taken over his state of mind.

“where is he.”

“where is who?”

“you know who blaise.”

blaise looks behind him, looking over the beds in his dorm. enzo is in bed, and blaise just got out of his. he looks at mattheos bed and its unmade but its empty.

“not here.” blaise sighs, wiping a tired hand over his eyes.

“then where is he?” you grumble.

“astronomy tower maybe, he likes taking a smoke out there at night. to see stars or some sappy shit.” blaise replies.

you thank blaise quickly and you apologise for the intrusion before quickly picking up your feet from the floor and going to the astronomy tower.

the halls of hogwarts when it was empty were always cold and a bit uneasy when you walk through them at night. knowing that there are ghosts in the walls and there might be other students or things around frighten you but the only thing your running on right now is the drink lorenzo made and pure anger.

your slippers tap on the tile beneath your feet echoing through the walls. you twist up the astronomy tower stairs quickly and you silently enter the icy breeze of the open class. the smell of smoke quickly comes over you, foretelling you that your target was indeed here.

-

“riddle.” you growl looking at the boy. he felt as if your eyes were piercing holes straight through him and he turns around slowly cigarette still in his mouth. mattheo’s eyes were wide and his face looked guilty.

“i swear whatever theo said he’s lying.” mattheo blurts out quickly. his eyes trail down to your slippers up your long fuzzy pajama pants and then to your night shirt, a quiet smile grows on his face but he’s quick to hide the pink on his cheeks with a snarky remark. “cute outfit, [name]” he laughs taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“did you steal my stuff mattheo?”

“who?” he replies, his lips curl into a smile.

“what?” you make a weird face at him, “did you steal my things?” you say again.

“you said my name.” he laughs out softly his eyes meeting the sky above him. “also no.” mattheo sighs out.

you walk to the ledge of the astronomy tower where he stood and you lean your elbows against the chill metal. “riddle-“ you try to begin but your cut off instantly, “mattheo.” he says. “call me mattheo please.” he says almost shyly, you narrow your eyes at him before shaking your head giving into the boys request.

“mattheo i really need you to be honest with me okay?” you turn to look at him, “did you steal my stuff?”.

“i didn’t [name].” he looks back at you, “right.” you reply, slight mistrust laces your tone but mattheo ignores it as he finishes up smoking his cigarette.

“im being serious!” he whines, the top of the cigarette being dragged across the railing. you give him a nod, coming off a tad sarcastic but mostly trusting.

“my stuff went missing too.” mattheo blurts out, he looks at you breathing out a smoky sigh. you look at him puzzled, you squint your eyes at him trying to read his expression.

with your squinted eyes and mistrusting expression an idea pops up into your head.

not one you like and most definitely not one you’d pitch to mattheo riddle.

but it was better than just sulking around.

“well if we both got robbed, on the same night what are the chances it was the same person?” you sigh out your eyes drawing to the stars above you.

“high?” he replies,

“so as much as i hate this- why dont we help eachother out and look for them together.”

“are you asking me to become your detective partner, honey bun?” he teases you with a sly grin.

“don’t make me change my mind riddle.” you glare at him.

“fine.. i will since your prrrractically begging me to ~” he smiles childishly, a slight gleam in his eyes.

you roll your eyes and groan,

this was a bad idea.

-

@yawneon

[vicsy]

Had no idea what to pitch so I literally looked up one word prompts and chose the first few. Pick whichever inspires: Daniel x Max + Sunburn/Tease/Emerge/Afternoon/Impulse/Nurture/Rough/Polaroid/Good

maxiel + polaroid, sunburn

"Drink?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks. Can't stay long. Duty calls!" Daniel makes an exaggerated gesture. Max cracks a smile. He probably follows the pundit stuff Daniel does more than actual racing these days. "Just wanted to pop by since you're back to calling Monaco home. Nice place, mate."

If not for the sim rig installed in an empty guest room that could have been a nursery in a life he brushed aside, nobody would have ever guessed Max lived here. His new apartment was clean, spacious, incredibly faceless. A simple home for a creature of habit Max always was but not quite a home.

"I wanted to go watch the race this weekend," Max admits and pads through the cluttered living room to the adjacent kitchen, straight to the fridge. It's shiny, sophisticated and very empty, except for a monthly supply of Red Bull and yesterday's leftovers. He grabs a can for himself, wishing he had that beer Daniel used to love. "But I am of course happy to see you after, well. Who knows, yeah?"

Couple years, give or take. Max stopped counting after turning thirty-three.

Behind him, Daniel claps his hands together. Max throws a surprised look over his shoulder, blindly rummaging in the fridge. The shine of Daniel's smile hasn't diminished over the years, but the crow's feet around his eyes, Max discovers, are more prominent than he remembers. He wonders if Daniel notices the little changes about him, too; if he cares for them at all. Max does.

"Oh, congrats on your team winning, uh, another virtual racing thingy," he delivers the line with that old, addictive enthusiasm and, to Max, it's a gut punch. He schools his face, a lump forming in his throat. Daniel gives him a thumbs up, turns around and walks along the empty shelves attached to the TV wall. The lack of decor there makes it look kind of pathetic. Max had only managed to put two of his WEC trophies on display, a helmet he wore for the last race and a nice-looking box of assorted knick-knacks dear to his memory. "Any plans to decimate Le Mans this year, Mr Three Time champ?"

"Fernando is busy with Dakar, so probably I'll skip it. Oscar texted me about doing it next year together, so," Daniel's back is facing him still. Max closes the fridge and opens the Red Bull can, places it on the kitchen counter. Stares at it for a second or two. Then, out of a long-forgotten habit, Max goes for a poorly planned half-joke. "Didn't know you started watching iRacing in your old age. Quick, what's a livestream?"

It's a desperate attempt to even the gap between now and before. Daniel flips him a bird without looking, too occupied with whatever he found on Max's sad little shelves.

"Har, har, fucker. I mean, I gotta keep myself in the game, everything is changing, like, a lot. And, come on, it's you–" he stops talking. Max takes a sip from the can, watching Daniel finally face him. "Huh. Didn't know you still have these."

Max has gone lengths without having to experience a solid enough crash and the debilitating aftermath reverberating through his body. In the sun-flooded apartment, on the freshly turned page, it catches up to Max as abruptly as a rainstorm in the summer.

Forty-three year old Daniel is standing in his unfurnished living room, a splotch of color among the backdrop of generic white paint and a mount of unpacked boxes. Forty-three year old Daniel, with a sprinkle of salt in his hair and a tan line on the ring finger of his left hand, looks at Max like he's a ghost from the past, like it's him who just had to ruin everything when things got too real. He wasn't there when Max paid the price of his own happiness in retaliation.

Forty-three year old Daniel, who sent out an invitation to a wedding Max never attended, holds up two tiny polaroids taken almost a decade ago and all Max can think of is his signature on the divorce papers, the ink still wet.

He swiftly closes the distance to Daniel and snatches both pictures from him, cradles them to his chest. Daniel's hand is left suspended in the air between them. Max ignores the wobble in between his ribs. His eyes trace the line of the rose tattoo in the direct line of vision, memory bristling, anger thrumming underneath his skin.

"I kept them," Max spits. He doesn't mask the bitterness in his voice. He had it bottled up long enough the cork had gone rotten.

Daniel stares back, mouth slack. He looks good and Max hates that, hates his stupid colorful hoodie and his meager attempts to make amends. Above all, Max hates himself for ever conceding. Daniel has always had one foot out the door. Missed chances were Max's fuel and they've still propelled him back to square one.

"Yeah. I figured," Daniel says, too soft, too familiar. Placating. Max should ask him to leave.

Instead, he drops his gaze to the polaroids laid flat on his palm. They're in good condition but Max also hadn't looked at them in months, maybe years; it doesn't matter since those Daniel and Max, everything they stood for, ossified and turned into dust. It doesn't keep Max awake at night anymore.

Out of the two photos, only one comes from the Red Bull PR department. They never cared when it went missing. Max remembers the video they shot too starkly to be unbothered it ever happened — him and Daniel in matching team gear, insane rain in Monaco; Max winning that weekend and Daniel watching from the pit wall.

The other polaroid, a bit rough on the edges, had never seen the light of day. It captured just a part of Max's sunburnt face, a corner of his smile; Daniel's lips pressed to his cheek, his wet curls in disarray. Max gets a phantom ache in his chest when he remembers how the camera ended up in the sand, falling off a small table where they had propped it up against a half-empty cocktail glass.

Daniel cups Max's hand holding the photos from underneath, painfully hesitant. Max flits his eyes up to the hollow of Daniel's throat, to his full beard; to the pleading look stabbing daggers into the soft edges of Max that were once hard and unforgiving. 

Stashing those polaroids was Max’s way to forget he wished to go back. He was never the one to leave in the first place; that was Daniel's sworn prerogative. But he's in Max's living room now, a lifetime away from running.

"Max–"

"I think," he cuts in before Daniel makes it worse or gives him hope. His hand slips from Daniel's hold and Max retraces his steps back to the kitchen. Daniel tracks his every move. "I think I will put them here."

He sticks the polaroids to the enormous fridge door with a Welcome to Monaco magnet he fished out of a nearby drawer. The photos look whacky but, to Max, it's a long shot. He lingers in place, berating himself for giving this another chance. 

When he turns back around, Daniel is just an arm's length away.

"About that drink," Daniel says, low. Max watches his tongue dart out, wetting his lips. His heart jackhammers against his ribs.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Max's back hits the fridge.

Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence fic abou

[kupakaa]

✧ Vi + Switch + Trying to overstimulate = fun !

So first things first: I am not good with overstim. Like at all. I will become a scrabbly wet cat and you will get scratched and I will slip out of your arms !

Imagining a short drabble thingy with Vi and the reader (which is totally not a thinly-veiled self-insert) where she's fingering you, her palm rubbing against your clit. Her fingers curl juuust right inside you to hit your sweet spot. Your heart pounds harder until you can't hold on any longer and you clench around her, clit throbbing against her palm. When your initial spike of pleasure begins to subside you expect her to lay off and stop pumping her fingers. But alas, she keeps going. And the sensation becomes less pleasurable and more overwhelming, inching towards aggravating.

“Ffff… Wait, wait, wait,” you groan, trying to catch your breath. 

“Relax,” she says. She rubs your thigh with her other arm. “Just one more, yeah?”

A tightness grows in your stomach. Your clit, uncomfortably sensitive, is still dragging against her calloused hand. It feels like a match against strike paper, rubbing again and again in hopes of starting a fire. But you can’t; you physically cannot. Not yet, not until she at least lets the hot bundle cool.

You can see the mischief in her eyes. Your toes curl. You try to close your thighs, but her hand forces them open. Stubborn. Always so damn stubborn, she was. A need to wipe that cheeky smirk off her face runs through your veins, almost overpowering the pleasure of your orgasm.

When she’s distracted by the sight of your glistening pussy, you rush forward. She gasps, finally pulling her hand back and out of you. You wince at the sudden movement but you try not to let it distract you. You grab the wrist of her offending hand and hold it tight, threatening it with your nails. One of your knees presses her thigh against the bed while the other presses against her crotch. You can feel a quick throb beneath the fabric of her trousers. Her other arm is free, but you let her know with a stare that you won’t hesitate to try and stop it if she tries anything funny.

“I say wait, you wait, got it?” you say between your panting. You can feel your slick and cum flowing down your thigh. While you weren’t yet ready for a second round, you couldn’t deny how arousing it was to have her beneath you. The mighty pink-haired brawler, staring up at you with flushed cheeks and a small tinge of embarrassment. 

Sure, she could flip the tables with a little effort. But that silent glee behind your eyes… Who is she to take that away from you?

She swallows, then nods. “Uh, mhm.”

[betweenlands]

[[Psst! Hey you! If you are here without context, go vote for the Well in the MCYT Prisons Contest!]] (and also for the Ghost's Vault, too)

“You tubed which Lying!?” Avid’s patron sputters.

Avid winces at the loud feedback screech accompanying their outburst, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears – instead, he looks directly over towards the most recently occupied tube, giving its new resident a quick once-over for identifying features. Fox ears, kind of runny mascara (the tube isn’t doing it any favors), raven wings, big floppy hat with a wide brim and a pointy tip.

He snaps his fingers. “Witch Lying! Yeah, that’s the one.”

“You,” the Nameless King says, and then mutters something completely unintelligible. “Avid. You have priorities. You are supposed to stop people from falling into the Void. This sort of diversion is–”

“I thought of that, actually!” Avid says brightly, leaning back against the stasis chamber. “Actually, they were like, a pretty high priority target once I realized I had access to other worlds through this whole… prison bracket… thingy.”

“I’m still not sure how that works, to be honest,” the Nameless King sighs.

“It’s really not that complicated! See, the other Avid is busy being possessed by some weird dark entity called the Old One or whatever, who I assume is like a rival of yours so I’m not going to linger on that because I certainly wouldn’t want to be asked about my exes, but anyway – he’s busy, I’m not –”

“–You have a job–”

“– and so I figured, what the heck, might as well just kinda sneak in there and see if there’s anyone that’s being particularly unsafe! And hoo boy, buddy, you are gonna be glad I did that.”

A pause, then more discontented grumbling from the other side of the line. “You had better have a good reason for taking your eyes off our biggest issues. Marmalade’s still at large, and that Fool could be–”

Avid snickers, rapping his knuckles against the tube despite the sign he’d put up next to it clearly reading DO NOT TAP ON GLASS. “Okay, so here’s the deal. It turns out this sucker right here, the Witch, they’re like – immortal immortal.”

“Most people are somewhat immortal. Respawn exists.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’ve taken a respawn in a couple centuries,” Avid says, stretching and moving over to the readout of the tubed figure’s genetics chart. “From an old modded generation – they’ve got some sort of immortality machine somewhere. Couldn’t figure out how to disable that but I did my research and, oh boy, you are gonna be glad to hear about this one.”

“Again. This had better be good.”

“Man, you are tetchy today.” Avid sighs. “I’ll make it quick. Immortality machine runs on death protection poppets. Death protection poppets block void damage. Void deals void damage. People go into Limbo if the Void can’t kill ‘em. You want people not in Limbo. Ergo, pickled Witch in the Woods.”

A long silence.

“Did I oversimplify?”

“No.” They sigh deeply. “Frankly, I’m stunned that you managed to create and follow a totally logical train of thought to completion. If what you’re saying is true, you actually have saved us both a great deal of hassle.”

“Aw. That’s sweet of you.” Avid leans back against the tube again, grinning.

“Don’t get used to it. But… well done.”

Avid grins widely, almost to the point where he has to cover his own face to hide how much he’s smiling. He’s done a good job! He did it! He’s getting a good grade in tubing people, something both normal to want and possible to achieve!

“I asked you a question, Avid,” the Nameless King says. Oops.

“Yep! Definitely heard you the first time, but, could you maybe just… rephrase that in full for a reason that is totally unrelated to me not hearing you?”

A long-suffering sigh. “I asked how you got them in the first place. Didn’t you lose the last round?”

“Eheh.” Avid’s grin turns almost uncharacteristically nasty. “See, that’s the thing. I did. I’ve been picking off the losers for the most part, so everyone’s been worrying about little ol’ me. I mean, who would even bother going after the immortal that won this round? If anything, they’re a suspect.” He waves one hand. “It’ll take people a little while to realize anything’s up – in fact, I can probably pick off a few more people in the quarterfinals before anyone figures out that the Witch is missing.”

“Make your pitch,” Avid’s patron says. “Quickly.”

“You got it.” Avid rummages in his inventory and pulls out a hand-drawn map of the upcoming tournament and a ballpoint pen that was probably Trog’s before they got tubed. He clicks it a few times, tapping it against his chin. “So, this round the Well looks like it might get bodied. Last round got something like a thousand votes – really close call, this place called the Desert versus these things called ‘where is’ blogs.”

“Please tell me you didn’t take out Ross,” the Nameless King says. “I don’t have the time or resources to deal with the Red Sun, and neither do you.”

“I may be dumb,” Avid says, “but I’m not stupid. I didn’t mess with that round. It was too high-profile, and keeping the Desert guys at large means they’re another prime suspect for the disappearances. Which brings me to the winners of that round.”

“Which was…?”

“The where is blogs. Apparently they put people in situations and it’s very popular. But, if they win, I’m thinking I could call in a little request for their next location.”

“Hm.” Avid gets the distinct sensation that the Nameless King is tapping their fingers against something. “Yes, that could work. If they let their guard down after winning like the Witch did, you could sweep in and get a lot of people at the same time – define where they are, as it were.”

Avid twirls the pen around his fingers a couple times before scribbling something down in the margins of his notes. “See, this is why we make such a good team! That is exactly what I was thinking we could do.”

“Excellent. Then make sure they win the next round – and don’t let me down.”

Avid nods, and then realizes that his patron can’t see him doing that, and then decides that he doesn’t really have anything to add. Awkward silence fills the air for several seconds.

“One more thing,” the Nameless King finally says. “You said you were picking off the losers, didn’t you?” Their voice is dryly annoyed again – so much for being happy with Avid’s job performance. “I would love to hear who else you’ve wasted our time on.”

“Not a waste of time!” Avid says brightly, hopping over the top floor railing and down to a lower floor. “So, there’s this really cute version of Viking that I would, just, love to talk with over drinks sometime, seems like a really fun dude, has this beautiful vault –”

“Avid. Focus.”

“Uh. Right. Probably won’t be able to talk to him face-to-face unless he gets into the finals, so I’m gonna have to work really hard to see if I can–”

“Avid.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Avid waves a hand as he checks over the occupant of the next tube. “Anyway, the guy he beat was really distracted and kind of stormed off muttering about how people should’ve had new perspectives or something? He was alone, so I bopped him over the head and tossed him in a stasis chamber.”

Avid looks over the catboy in the tube appraisingly. He’s wearing all-black with green and yellow highlights – he kind of looks like an emo version of Viking, if Viking actually wore hoodies. And had brown hair. And didn’t really look like Viking other than the heterochromia. “I don’t know his name, but apparently he’s Canadian? Whatever that means, I don’t think Canada canonically exists in–”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am! We cannot confirm Canada to be like, a canonically existing thing, that’ll break suspension of disbelief! Or at least that’s probably what Anathra would say.”

“I don’t care about the relative canonicity of Canada. You’re telling me you captured Kenadian? The person known for breaking into and out of places faster than anyone else? The prison escapist?”

“Ohhh,” Avid says. “He’s not Canadian, his name’s Kenadian. You know what, that makes so much more sense.”

[little-sleepy-owl]

ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

the reader is a sinner woman, who starts to act all motherly around the princess of Hell.

platonic, fluffy and wholesome.

originally I was going to publish this after Alastor x virgin!reader thingy. but holy hell, this weekend wasn't kind to me, and it seems this work week will not be kind either. so while it's still in progress, i offer you this little thing.

she's very quick to pick up on what's going on. she's is in so much doubts and mixed feelings it drives her crazy.

yeah, her mother wasn't around for seven years, but still… how can she betray her? how can she let another woman fill this role just like that?

but you're so good to her. she can't help, but feel safe and secure and happy, when you ask about her day, care for her and fuss over her in this way.

you support her on every step she takes and it sometimes genuinely makes her cry of joy.

oh, how she missed that feeling. she missed being a little girl in her mother’s arms.

sooner or later she'll definitely have a talk about this with Lucifer. a heavy one.

he's not happy with the whole situation at first, but still supports her feelings and urges to let her heart guide her.

she doesn't have to give up on her real mother to accept the found one, right?

she thinks of how your hands are so warm and welcoming. and how your eyes are so gentle when you look at her.

maybe... maybe it's okay to allow herself this happiness.

deeply nervous, yet somewhat exited, she'll come to you and ask if it's okay if she calls you “mom” sometimes.

and the warmth that spreads in her chest the moment your face lights up tells her that she made the right choice.

ooh, she wants to do so much stuff together now!! all things she was scared to allow herself before with you. go shopping, have little silly sleepovers in her and Vaggie’s room (you basically get two daughters for the price of one), draw each other, read books by roles, and go to Lu Lu Land of course! yaay, rides with hell's horses!!

she loves engaging in the silliest things. you gotta get used to this.

at one point Lucifer will come to have a talk with you. he sees how much genuinely happier and relaxed Charlie has become, and mostly now approves of your new role. still, he has to be sure you understand that he won't tolerate it if you hurt her.

“you're taking care of my little girl? Ỳ̴̲͈̻̒͊o̷̬̗̙̦͒́̇̂ͅŮ̸͍̺͝ ̵̣͎̼̖̝̞̋̒̃̾͋͘B̷͔̹́̐̉͌̚E̶̼̺͗͋͛̌̕t̵̛̛̜̮́͛͆Ṯ̵̡̢͉͕͉͇̋̈̋̏͝͠e̸͍͖̅͐̐̂́̊̊̌́ͅR̷̰͚̩̜̲͖͍̈́̓̃͗̐͆̀͐͘̕ͅ ̸͚̌̀͒̈̃̉̈́̃̋̕b̵̯̥͓̦̺͈̫̑É̷̩̤͕͈̂̂͒̕͠͝ 👹” basically.

don't worry, if there's ever some little dispute between you and Charlie, he won't just kill you for it on the spot. probably.

(the man will develop some soft feelings for you, so really. it's fine. he can't help, but be fond of someone who Charlie adores so much.)

Charlie will want a new portrait with you and her together to hang inside the Hotel.

just choose the place and pose, and a painter will be ready to start! you two can also drag Vaggie with you for this one.

maybe even Lucifer, too? or you can have a separate one with all four of you.

ah, what a nice family.

congratulations, now you're practically a new Queen of Hell, but by adoption of the Princess, instead of a marriage with the King.

although it only serves as a matter of teasing by other staff/patrons of the Hotel, still, kinda cool.

long live the Queen and her adorable loving daughter!

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - A Ted Nivison x Reader

{{-Theres not a whole lot to say about this chapter 7 so I'm gonna use this space to just thank everyone for the love and support lately! I've been getting a lot more likes and reblogs and ppl are recommending this fic and that's just really fucking cool. Every comment I read makes me so inspired, thank you everyone ♡ if y'all have any prompts you want me to write a quick one-shot with, don't be afraid to ask! Pretty sure my question box thingy is open LMAO. Enjoy this chill chapter!-}}

//General Warnings: 18+ Fic, NO MINORS. Reader is implied to be afab and under 5'5.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of nudity and female genitalia, Lotta pillow talk n flirting lololol I love writing banter\\

Word count: 4.2k

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 & @callsign-scully

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

Also bonus points if you can guess the title reference (it's not hard to guess LOL)

Chapter 7: The Room Where it Happened

I wake up to the sound of an alarm going off, though I recognize that it's not from my phone. I'm laying on my side and my bare body is comfortably warm, somewhat still under the covers. I open my eyes, but the view of my room is blocked by something. Skin, a man's bare chest. Ted's chest.

My arms are tucked in front of me, slightly constricted by Ted's strong arms wrapped around my bare body. I can feel his hands lightly tracing and rubbing my back, making me blush and smile to myself. He's awake. More importantly, he's still here, holding me.

I move my head a little to snuggle a little closer to Ted, hearing him hum in response. "There you are.." I hear Ted's tired voice acknowledge my movement, moving his body back a little so I have more room to move, still keeping his arm wrapped around me. I get to look at Ted's face for the first time since last night and I feel a flutter in my chest, batting my eyelashes at him a little with a warm smile. I don't know what it is, but he's so much more handsome now than he was yesterday. Maybe it's the lack of glasses, maybe it's his messy hair, maybe it's the doe eyed smile he's giving me, I don't know. Looking at him now...It's like I can hear a choir cooing like angels my head.

"You conscious in there?..." Ted speaks again, moving one of his hands up to poke me in the forehead. I squint in response and chuckle, nodding slightly at him. "Yeah, sorry, I was just..." I trail off a little, my sight going to his lips once again. I can't believe I kissed this man last night. I can't believe I slept with this man last night. "I..."

"Wow...you're actually speechless, eh?.." Ted laughs a little, his hand moving to rub my upper arm. "Guess I can shut you up.."

I guess he can. It's strange. I have so much I want to say, so many more questions I want to ask and yet, I'm speechless. All I can do is giggle and gaze into his eyes, admiring the little features on his handsome face now that the room is lit up enough to see them. He's got the cutest moles along his cheek and beside his mouth, the littlest cupids bow along the top of his lip that gets thinner the bigger he smiles, the little line along his chin, the bags under his gentle eyes...

"Hey.." Ted softens his tone as he speaks to me again, his thumb caressing my shoulder. "Seriously, though. What're you thinkin' about? What's gotchu so quiet?"

I can see he's genuinely asking, I have been rather quiet. I take in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves so I can actually deliver a coherent answer to him. "I'm just...fuck.." I whisper, shaking my head with a chuckle. "I...I can't even really think straight right now. I have...no idea what to say; where to start..."

"Well, we've got about..." Ted turns back briefly to look at his phone. "...an hour to, uh...talk, so..." Ted turns back to me again, giving me a reassuring smile. "Take your time.."

His tone is so much different now, even the way he's looking at me is different. So concerning, So...affectionate. If this were yesterday, he'd be a lot more condecending. He'd be mocking me. Hell, he was mocking me last night. Now it's like...that wall is down. He's comfortable, maybe. "I just...can't believe you're in here.." I finally speak out, letting out a shaky sigh. My hand moves up to cup his cheek, his affectionate smile growing as I caress his face. "In my room...in my bed...in my arms.."

"Technically, you're in my arms.." Ted commented, getting another dopey giggle out of me. "What, did you think I'd leave?"

"I didn't think you'd ever been in here to begin with.." I admit with a little shake of the head. "I've felt things, I figured you knew I've felt things, but I couldn't tell if you felt...things."

Ted hums out a little chuckle, glancing down at my lips before pulling me in closer, connecting his blush toned lips with mine. I let out a content sigh in the kiss, wrapping my arms around him the best I can. I didn't want to get out of bed, I wanted to stay here with Ted forever, or for at least an extra hour or so. I wasn't sure how the dynamic would change once we have to go back out in front of everyone.

Ted breaks the kiss with a pleasant hum, opening his eyes once more to gaze at me. I blush at him, wondering to myself if anyone had heard us last night. I wasn't really able to be quiet with how he was...handling me and the bed had been making an awful racket as well. The frame is probably cheap. "I suppose that's...an answer.." I sigh with a little chuckle, running my fingers through his tall hair.

"I'm a little, uh...better with actions than words.." Ted admitted with a tired smile, still gently caressing my face. "But, yeah I uh...I do like you.."

It felt so nice to hear him finally admit it aloud to me. After last night, I didn't really have anymore lingering doubts, but hearing it come from his voice was relieving, the burden of the unknown finally lifting off my shoulders. "Well, last night's actions certainly made everything crystal clear.." I purr at him, moving my hand around the back of his head to rub my fingers through his messy dark hair. Ted closes his eyes for a moment, smiling with a low hum. I can tell he enjoys the little massage. He opens his eyes and moves to lean over me somewhat, holding himself up with his arm. "Oh I bet.." Ted snickered back, his eyes lingering on my bare body momentarily. "You wanna make it a habit?"

I grin up at Ted with a bashful blush on my face, wrapping my arms around Ted's neck to pull him into another intimate kiss, feeling him lower his body down as our lips slowly dance together. I could get use to this. I really could. "Mmm, That..." I purr in the kiss as I pull back, nibbling a little on my lower lip. "That wouldn't suck.."

"Oh, There'd be plenty of sucking.." Ted hums with a devilish smile, leaning down to leave little kisses along my neck. I instinctively lean my head back and a quiet moan escapes me, moving my hands down to Ted's shoulders to weakly urge him to slow down. "You fucker.." I whisper to him, my face warming up when he snickers mockingly against my sensitive skin.

We both freeze when I hear a knock at my door. I softly gasp as I sit up and Ted shifts away from me to look back at the door. "(Y/N)?" I hear Tanner's voice from the other side of the door. "You awake in there?"

Ted looks at me, making sure to keep quiet just in case. I noted that Tanner was only speaking to me. Maybe he didn't know Ted was in here? "Yeah, I'm awake.." I call back to Tanner, keeping my eyes on the door. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just wanted to let you know that there's food downstairs." Tanner explained. "Dan came back with breakfast. It's downstairs if you want some. Everyone's just kinda grabbing whatever."

"Okay, I'll be right down. Thanks.." I smile a little at Ted, hearing Tanner give me a quick 'yep' before walking away from my door. I really wasn't sure if Tanner was trying to be polite, or if he genuinely thought I was alone in here.

After knowing for sure Tanner was out of earshot, I let out a little sigh of relief and Ted starts laughing quietly, moving some of his hair out of his face.

"Did he know you're in here?.." I ask with a bashful smile, placing a hand on my cheek. "He might not, I don't know about everyone else.." Ted admitted, looking around the bed to see if he can locate his clothes.

"Why do you say that?" I ask, shifting a little in the bed towards my air conditioner.

"He fell asleep with his earbuds in."

"Oh yeah, he does that. No way he heard anything."

"Everyone else definitely heard you though."

"Oh fuck you!" I cackle, picking up one of the pillows to throw it at Ted. "Maybe if you'd taken it fuckin' easy, I would've been quieter."

"Last I checked, you were the one takin' it."

"Ted, I'm going to fucking slap you."

"Can it wait until I find my fucking pants?" Ted chuckles at me, trying to keep himself covered with the blanket. "I'm hungry."

We had scattered our clothes around quite a bit last night. His sweatpants were down by my air conditioner, his shirt by the front door, my nightgown still hanging off the edge of the bed and I couldn't spot my pajama shorts anywhere at all. "Do you know where my pants are?" Ted asked, trying to look around his side of the bed. I smirk at him, leaning back a little on the bed.

"Yes.." I give a slow nod, crossing my arms. Ted turns to look at me, giving me a suspicious smile. "Did you hide them?"

"No."

"But you know where they are."

"Mhmm.."

"Are they close to you?"

"Maybe.."

"And you're not gonna let me get to them, are you?"

"Nope.."

"Well, I've got something you need, too.."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Your clothes for the day."

Ted reaches under his side of the bed and pulls out the clothes I was going to wear that day, underwear and all. Fuck. The night before I like to pick out tomorrow's outfit and tuck it under the bed. He must've seen them last night. Sure, I have my dresser on my side, but I'd still have to uncover my body to get to it. "You wouldn't.." I playfully glare at him, sitting up a little in the bed. Ted holds the clothes up and far away from me, smiling deviously.

"Hand me my pants, and I won't.." He offered, tilting his head a little.

"Give me my clothes first, and I'll move." I countered, keeping my body covered with the blankets.

"Oh no, you started this. Hand me my pants."

"Give me my clothes."

"I will, once I get my pants."

"Oh come on, you wouldn't even need to leave the bed to get your pants.."

"Neither will you if you hand me my pants."

"You wanna miss breakfast over this?"

"I already ate last night."

"You just said you were hungry, Theo."

"Wasn't talkin' about food, princess. Now hand me my pants."

I squint at Ted, glaring daggers through him with a slight embarrassed smirk on my face.

"You're not gonna do it." I challenge him, leaning back against my pillow and crossing my arms again. Ted raises his eyebrows at me and glances down at my crossed arms before giving my clothes a good toss away from both of us, watching with a gasp as they land next to his shirt by the front door. "Fetch.."

I look over at my clothes with widened eyes before rolling them back and letting out a huff. We had spent a little too much time in here so I figured I should just go get them. I reach over my side of the bed to pick up and throw Ted's sweatpants at him before moving to get out of bed, completely naked.

When I sit up and move my legs over the edge of the bed though, I feel my thighs are still shaking a little. My face becomes a little hot when I remember how tightly I had my legs wrapped around Ted last night, I didn't expect them to still feel weak.

"Can't walk?" I hear Ted mocking me with a pleased hum, looking over to see that he'd already gotten his sweatpants and glasses on. "Can you get my clothes, please?.." I asked him, sweetening the tone of my voice. Ted tilts his head at me and hums again before getting up out of bed to move over to my clothes. I smile at him, but it falters a little when I see him pick up his shirt instead.

"Y'know, I would.." Ted begins, putting his shirt back on and leaning back against the closed door "...but now I wanna see if you can walk." He grins devishly at me and slowly beckons me over with a finger. "Come here."

I feel my face heat up and pout at his response, but honestly, this is kind of hot, so I do as I'm told. I stand up from the bed, closing my eyes for a moment when I feel the slight weakness and warmth in my legs. I'm grateful to Tanner for choosing his film to be a RomCom and not an Action movie, that's for sure . I move around the bed and approach my clothes, the heavy blush staying on my face knowing Ted is watching me. I'm sure he's very entertained. I picked up my clothes with an embarrassed huff, putting them on quickly in front of him.

"This is what we are now, eh?" I ask, turning around to get Ted's assistance with putting my bra on. I hear him sigh, planting a little kiss on the top of my head. "If you want the truth, I'm enjoying this while I have it.." He replied, successfully hooking my bra around me. "I...don't know if you want to say anything about this."

I smile affectionately when I feel him kiss my head, turning to look at him as I put my shirt on. "You don't think they heard us?" I ask with a sort of sing-song tone. "You underestimate how fucking deeply Joe and Dan sleep." Ted adds with a little chuckle. "They're heavy fucking sleepers, plus they're on the entire other side of the hallway. We might be okay."

I don't say anything for a little while, getting my pants on last so I can tuck my shirt in the way I like it. I thought I'd been loud enough to wake the whole house up, but Ted has a point. Tanner had his earbuds in, Dan's an incredibly loud snorer and Joe definitely would've knocked my door down by now if he knew Ted had spent the night in here. There's a very good chance no one out there knows a thing.

"Do you wanna keep it between us?.." Ted asks me, his tone becoming a little more serious. Once I get my pants buttoned up, I look up at him. I sigh a little. "Well, even if I did, I have to tell Joe.."

"Joe? Why?" Ted asks, a little confused.

"He...snipped at me about this the first night we stayed here." I admit with a smile. "He warned me not to get with you, but a couple days ago he...changed his mind, I guess. Told me to tell him if anything happened, I promised I would."

"'Get with me'.." Ted repeats with a little scoff, looking away for a moment and shaking his head. "Too late, I guess. You're stuck with me now."

"Oh am I?" I grin at him, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck to get his attention again. He looks at me once more, his gaze softening as our eyes meet. "Yeah, you are.."

An affectionate sigh leaves me and we both chuckle a little. I'm content with this. I lean up to give him a gentle kiss on the lips, a satisfied hum leaving me when he returns the kiss, slinking his hands around my waist. After a moment, I pull back from his lips and gaze at him once more, biting my lower lip slightly. "I'll let Joe know privately. It's up to you whether you want everyone else to know.."

Ted briefly glances up with his eyes, probably pondering the idea. "I'll think about it. Thanks."

I smile at him again before pulling back so Ted can open the door, peeking outside at first to see if anyone was up here in the hallway with us. With the coast being clear, we both exit my room. Ted tells me he's going into his room to change for the day, so I go downstairs alone. It probably looks better this way, especially if Ted wants to keep us on the downlow for now.

Everyone greets me when I enter the kitchen, seeing the different boxes of donuts and other snacks scattered around. Some members of the film crew were toasting some bagels to have while others simply had a coffee and a hashbrown. Most of the donuts were already devoured so Tanner starts to throw away the empty boxes. It's weird being in front of everyone again after last night. It's like they could just look at me and know, even though it's clear to me now that they haven't got a clue. Joe and Dan are out here as well, sitting at the kitchen table with some donuts in their hand and their coffee's on the table. After I grab a bite to eat, I head on over to hang out with them. It seemed like we were getting a slightly later start anyways, I couldn't spot any of the extras that had been here for the last week, so they all probably went home.

"Holy, I thought you were dead up there." Dan joked to me with a smile, wiping his mouth a little with his wrist. I blush a little, wondering if that was a comment about...you know. It definitely wasn't, thankfully. "I slept in a little." I admit with a shy grin and a shrug, sort of leaning against the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ted come downstairs in a new long sleeved shirt, fixing up his hair with his other hand as he heads into the kitchen. I smile to myself. Ooh, this is gonna be hard. He's more attractive now. Is this what 'post-fuck glow' is?

"Ok, we need your help settling something.." Joe speaks up after taking a long sip from his iced cappuccino, setting it down on the table. My attention returns to Joe, raising my brow a little curiously. "Okay.."

"This is gonna sound so fucking weird to you, but hear me out cause I think you'll find it funny.." Joe begins, gesturing his hands out in front of him. "We were arguing over what the ratio is--out of all of the guys here, what the ratio is of...who here would know where the clit is versus who wouldn't know."

Oh fuck me, Joe comes up with the wildest topics.

"What???" I furrow my brows at Joseph and scoff a little. Tanner joins us at the table, pulling up a few more chairs so he and I can sit down with Dan and Joe. "Hear me out! Like there's, what, 21 other guys working here, including the 3 of us." Joe explains, gesturing to Dan, Tanner and himself. Tanner's staff was more male focused. Now that the extras were gone there were about 32 of us. 24 of them were male. "So, what, you're wondering how many of them know where the clit is?" I ask with a nervous chuckle. "How fucking long have you been debating this? Why?"

"A good hour." Dan admits, his tone suggesting he's exaggerating. "This all fuckin' started because I pulled out a really small donut hole and Joe said it looked like a clit. It made me laugh and I asked why he thought that."

"I just know, bro." Joe chuckles with a little shrug.

"Joseph.." I bring my hand up to lightly squeeze the bridge of my nose with my finger and my thumb. I wanted a way to take my mind off of last night, this certainly wasn't helping.

"I'd say maybe half. At least half of us must know." Tanner suggests, gesturing to the kitchen.

"Nooo! No way." Joe quickly shoots it down, shaking his finger at Tanner. "Not fucking half, no way. 5 of us probably know. 5. Tops."

"So if we know, that leaves 3 others." Dan continues, gesturing to himself and Joe. "Tanner, do you know where it is?"

"Oh, definitely not." Tanner admits with a little chuckle. "But, like, If you give me maybe 5--maybe 10 minutes. I could, y'know, probably figure it out. For science."

I can't help but laugh at that. Knowing Tanner, he's not being dishonest about that. He'd probably want to know where it is for bragging rights and that's it, not to actually use that knowledge as a man.

"Find what?" Ted finally joins in on the conversation, half of a bagel already stuffed in his mouth.

"Ted, do you know where the clit is?" Tanner abruptly asks Ted, getting a good laugh out of the rest of us when Ted nearly coughs out his bagel. I resist the urge to touch my cheek, feeling it warm up.

"What the fuck!?" Ted asks with a laugh, shrugging with his arms out. "That's what you're discussing? At 9 in the morning?"

"We think 3 other guys here must know where the clit is." Dan explained, taking a sip from his coffee with a little chuckle. "Do you know?"

"He wouldn't fucking know! Ted wouldn't fucking know where it is." Joe scoffs with a cackle, wiping underneath his eyes when they begin to water from the laughter. Ted and I share a quick, knowing glance and I see him smirk at me.

"No. Probably not." Ted jokes, shaking his head a little. I look down at the desk to mask the big smile threatening to spread along my lips.

Act a fool

Act a fool

Act a fool

Act a fool

Act a fool.

"Oh, (Y/N), now that you're here.." Tanner gets my attention by speaking my name, swallowing the last bit of his donut so he wasn't speaking with his mouth full. "Dianne with the makeup department wanted to experiment with a few looks with you. She's in the living room whenever you're ready."

"Oh cool, mind as well go now." I shrug, standing up from my seat. "What's it for?"

"For the ballroom scene." Tanner replied, wiping any crumbs that may had been on his face. That's right. Tanner had written in a whole dream sequence in the film that involves changing the set to appear more like a ballroom and making Ted and I look like royalty. They're probably going to see what will look best on me, whether we'll be making this more historic or fantasy-based. It'll be one of the last scenes we film. I've really been looking forward to it.

"Have a good rest of your morning, guys!" I chirp and wave a little, moving aside so Ted could sit. Ted moves around me to take my spot, but not before giving me a little peck on the lips.

Uhh...

In front of everyone.

"Have fun, princess."

Everyone at the table looks very surprised as Ted sits down, myself included. Huh? What was that? He said he was going to think about both of us telling everyone! Oh, this motherfucker, he probably did that on purpose. He totally did that on purpose. Everyone stares at Ted as he takes a long sip from his coffee, with Joe eventually breaking the stare to furrow his brows at me instead.

"...What?" Ted speaks through his coffee cup, a coy smirk making the corners of his lips curl up. A nervous chuckle escapes me. I can't believe he did that.

"...Did you just kiss her?" Dan asks, a half-smile on his face. It's like he couldn't tell if this was supposed to be a bit or not.

"Yeah." Ted replied simply, setting his coffee down. "Why?"

"Wha--Yeah, that's what I was about to ask, Ted." Tanner looked more bewildered than ever. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why...did you kiss (Y/N)?"

"I wanted to again."

"Again? When did you kiss her before?"

"In her room."

My entire face feels like a boiling kettle. Is he really going to spill everything right here, right now? It seemed like no one from the film crew could hear us, he was exclusively just speaking to Tanner, Dan and Joe.

"Wait, is that where you went last night?" Tanner asked, the confusion on his face becoming more dramatic. "Well I planned to sleep on the couch, but yeah." Ted answered honestly, finishing up the last half of his bagel.

"You were in her room? Last night?"

"Yeah."

"What--What happened in there?"

"Nothin'."

Ted glances at me with a smirk as he gives no real answers to Tanner. I'm so embarrassed, I just turn away and start heading towards the living room like I said I would. As I do this, I hear Joe get up from his seat to march straight towards me, along with Tanner continuously proding Ted with more questions.

"What happened in the room?" Tanner asks, a confused laugh leaving him. "What happened in that room, Ted?"

Oh boy, here we go.

__________________________________

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 ||

[geminil0vr]

what'cha listening to? | fred g. weasley

tldr: fred seems to be making a habit of coming into the library and pulling off your headphones.

the playlist

word count: 3.9k

content: a little friends to realising crushes to... well, who knows? close proximity, sharing headphones, dancing in a dark corridor. a love letter to music, too.

Fred Weasley was insufferable.

Truly.

See, you and Fred had been good friends for a while now, him bothering you whenever he got the chance, you complaining to his brother, George, who only worsened whatever petty argument was taking place. And other than that, you enjoyed their company, his company, you did! But something about the way he'd make his way into the library every few days, scraping a spare chair across the floor to flop down next to you and snatch the headphones off your head, was making you feel all flustered inside.

Your cheeks would warm, your palms would get clammy, and as much as you were used to him and his brother constantly cozied up beside you for most of the day, stealing your bag, pulling at your hair, wrapping an arm around your shoulder whenever they saw fit, this was just different. It felt different. Intimate. And it shouldn't have.

This pattern sinking into your routine was something you'd slowly become accustomed to, ever since the first time Fred did it.

You'd settled down at a table near the back of the library, the orange headphones connected to your walkman pulled firmly over your ears, potions textbook flipped open to page 94, inked quill scrawling over a fresh page of parchment. Something about... no, you can't remember. You can only recall being bored out of your mind, head bopping discreetly to the song playing, lips slightly parted as if preparing to mouth the words.

You almost thought you'd been imagining things when Fred Weasley strolled around the corner, one hand secured to the side of the bookcase, the other stuffed in his pocket as he searched for an author by alphabet. Clearly not what he was looking for, his eyes darted to the bookcase beside you before doing a double-take and letting a cheeky grin stretch over his lips.

"I was wondering where you'd wandered off to!" he exclaimed, and you winced at how his voice echoed in the silence.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" you whispered in surprise, although somewhat content to see a friend (just not one so infuriating).

"Well, that's no way to greet your best friend in the entire world," He pulled a chair out from the side of the table, plopping himself down onto it and resting his head in his hands, elbows knocking against your textbook. You caught it before it could careen off the side and shot him a skeptical look, removing the cushion from your right ear.

"First of all, you must be kidding yourself," He frowned childishly, "Second of all, answer my question. I know you. You're not exactly a library person."

"I can be a library person!" You blinked at him, "Alright, fine. I'm here doing some very important research for a very secret project."

The corner of your lip quirked up unwillingly, "Oh, yeah? And what might that be?"

"... Fireworks."

"Well, would you look at that? I didn't even need to torture it out of you," He gave an exhausted look to the shelving behind you, and you fought a cheeky smile, "Hate to break it to you, Freddie, but someone already invented those."

He groaned, covering his face in exasperation, "No, no, better fireworks."

"Better than the ones from Zonko's?" Fred eyed you, and nodded slyly, "You two are certainly ambitious."

He shot a wink your way, finally noticing the subtle sound of music playing and the strange gadget on your desk.

"What's that, then?"

"Oh," you looked down at it, then back at him, "It's a Walkman."

"A what?"

"It's a Muggle thingy. Plays music."

"Oh..." Fred leaned forward to inspect it, eyes darting from the cable to the headphones fitting snugly over your hair, "The music, it's coming out of those?"

You nodded with a quick smile, zeroing back in on your textbook but preparing for the inevitable.

"Wicked..." he breathed, "Dad'd love that."

He was surprisingly quiet for a few moments, setting you on edge. Suddenly, chair legs were scraping across the polished floor, and out the corner of your eye you saw him sitting, arms leaning over the back of the chair, startlingly close and studying you like a project of his.

You tried to read, but the words blurred into eachother, and you broke. Your eyes darted to the side, "... What?"

"So..." He cocked his head, "What you listening to?"

You cast a look at him, defeated, then moved your gaze to the ceiling in order to focus on the melody, "... Kiss on My List, by... well, I can't remember, and I'm not gonna check for you right now," You looked pointedly to your work, "Why —"

Your voice lifted in question and before you could react, he was whipping the headphones off your head, stretching them (worryingly) wide and fitting them over his own ears. The cord couldn't quite reach, and so he leaned in closer to the cassette player, red hair tickling the wrist of the arm you had propped up on the wooden table. You could feel the steady inhale and exhale of his breath, skin pricking up at the warm air, goosebumps trailing up to the back of your neck. His eyes grew wide in curious wonder, lighting up, his smile lacking its usual mischief as he listened.

Looking up at you in the rather awkward position you were in, cable going through the crook of your elbow and you being much too frozen to untangle it, he bopped his head to the end of the Daryl Hall and John Oates song, tapping his foot against the wooden floor.

"This is really good!" he said, or rather, shouted, into the quiet of the library. You yelped, eyes wide, and stole them back — he frowned and sat back as you set them down onto the table.

Whispering through clenched teeth, you leaned over to him, cheeks still hot from the proximity, "Loud, Fred," you enunciated, "Very loud."

He pressed his lips together innocently, a silent apology, and you fought the urge to snicker at how well he portrayed the picture of innocence.

"Pince is gonna kill you once and for all, you know," You rose a brow.

He made a nonchalant sound, brushing it off, "Pince won't do anything. She's probably half deaf by now anywa—"

The sharp, urgent footfall of the librarian made him shoot up in his chair, untangling himself from the wire, tripping over the leg of the table and balancing ungracefully before making a run for the exit. He stopped for a second, beaming anxiously over his shoulder in goodbye, when Pince set off around the corner of a bookcase. His eyes widened and he raced out, the librarian only able to catch a glimpse of his hair before he fled out of sight.

She muttered something crude about 'his kind' under her breath and turned back'. You inhaled sharply, fighting a grin, hesitating, and then slipping your headphones back on. Christ.

A few days after, it happened again, though this time he was cautious, lifting the cushions to speak softly to you. The action made you tense in uncertainty, and you'd reach up and remind him not to stretch them too wide or they'd break. You found yourself listening to music you knew he'd like, so you'd have something to show him when he came in. You found yourself waiting.

After a few weeks, you noticed he'd never come at a set time. It was whenever he stumbled upon you, looking for something, or when he'd purposely come in to bother you, enjoying the way your nose crinkled at his attempts at distraction, or how your eyes would light up, almost imperceptibly, when he'd compliment a song or get an artist's name right. The corners of his mouth would crease when you asked him about a prank he was planning, a project he'd been working on — when you swore yourself to secrecy in order to hear every detail.

Rock the Casbah, Touch Me, Hooked On A Feeling, were just a few you started with. Then, it was Somebody's Watching Me, Got To Get You Into My Life, and We Didn't Start the Fire; anything you thought he'd like, you played, skipping your other favourites to get to the more upbeat songs, the ones that reminded you of him.

Joking quietly in class, as you were always too nervous to disturb the teacher, playing harmless pranks with you on people who had wronged him and his brother, your sense of justice more powerful than your fear of getting in trouble. When him and his friends would all sit around you in the dining hall, stealing your food, copying your notes with your reluctant permission. None of this compared to the easy hum of conversation, the muffled laughter — fighting to keep stoic in an otherwise peaceful nook of the library. You weren't sure when it had developed into more than just friends, when you'd gotten closer. You weren't sure, but something had shifted, changed. It set you on edge, uncertain, unable to concentrate on mindless tasks, and you cursed yourself: you'd sworn you wouldn't get distracted.

It was hard to focus now, too, the clock taunting you — almost closing time. The library was silent, save some quiet rustling from the front desk, and the sound of one of Fred's favourite songs, Dancing In The Dark, playing softly through your headphones. You rubbed your eyes down at your work, deciding to call it a day. You'd speed through the rest of it inbetween classes, or whenever History of Magic got too excruciating. You got up, smoothing your hands over your jeans and tucking your walkman inside them, then circled the table to look down at your textbook again, making sure you'd included everything you could in the first few paragraphs of your essay before setting out to pack your things away.

"You're here late," A voice rung out from behind you and you startled, twisting on your feet, dry quill in hand. You pulled your headphones down and around your neck, and he eyed the way your hair nestled against your skin, caught inbetween.

"God, Fred, you scared the shit out of me," You set the quill down pointedly, but your posture softened at the sight of him, cheeks dusted over with freckles, hair never quite in the right place. He looked like a wildfire, somehow soft to the touch, "What were you up to this time?"

He folded his hands over his chest in defense, "Why would I be up to anything?"

You blinked at him again. You'd played this game a thousand times.

"Okay, fine, maybe I was!" He threw his hands up and neared your table, examining the clutter and offering with a gesture of his hand to help you clean it up. He wouldn't do it properly, but you let him anyway, trying not to intervene and correct him like you normally would. You'd sort it out in your dorm.

"You wanna elaborate?" You cocked your head, brows drawn up.

He was careful, delicately placing spare quills into your pencil case, twisting shut the lid of your inkwell, shuffling together your papers. He knew how you were. You watched him.

"Nothing extravagant," he started, tilting his head towards you, eyes focused on the task, "Just played the prank of the year on Slytherin."

You joined him, tucking things into your satchel, "Oh, really?"

"Oh, yeah. They're not gonna know what hit 'em."

Your eyes met, and he grinned. Even through the haze of your fatigue, you smiled back, just as he handed you the last of your papers.

Before you could object, he was hauling your bag up and over his shoulder, complaining about the length of the strap, and waving Madame Pince goodbye. You checked you hadn't left anything behind and hurried after him, apologising curtly as you passed.

"Hey!" Fred cast a glance over his shoulder as you caught up with him, "Not fair!"

"Come on, Y/L/N. It's 8 PM. Past your bedtime."

"It is not."

He eyed you suspiciously and your brows drew up in exasperation.

"It is not!"

"If you say so," he said, clearly enjoying the way you were working yourself up, then glanced at the headphones resting on your collarbone, "What were you listening to?"

"Nothing interesting."

"Oh, come on, I wanna hear," he whined boyishly, and when you scanned his features, an obvious smile spreading, your resolve weakened. The both of you had stopped in the middle of the vacant hallway now, facing eachother, early moonlight streaming in through the windows.

You glared at him, decisively taking the headphones from around your neck and twisting the cushion to listen yourself. The corners of your mouth lifted, "I don't think this is really your speed."

"Hey, I like everything you play! I even liked that, uh, Everywhere one, from the other day,”

"You did?"

"And the one about the — the homies, kissing that girl, by um..."

"Weezer?"

He sped past, "And that other one, Under My Finger, was it? By those Rolling Stones?"

You grinned, "Under My Thumb, Fred."

"Right, that!" He softened, "I like everything you play me." You sucked in a breath, chest tight, and cleared your throat in order for your voice not to come out as tender as you felt.

"If you insist."

He pulled off your satchel, setting it down to the side and staring at you expectantly. You went to hand him the headphones, but instead he craned his neck down, and your fingers wavered as they placed the cushions over his ears. Warmth radiated off him — the scent of gunpowder, and cinnamon. You leaned back when he did, stumbling forward a little and apologising when the cord tucked into your waistband couldn't quite reach at such a distance. He smiled at you, undisturbed by your closeness, pressing the device firmly into his ears. He closed his eyes, began to nod his head slowly to the rhythm, and all was quiet for a few moments as he basked in the song. You listened along to the parts of the melody you could hear, low and nearly indistinct through the silence.

His eyelids fluttered open, and he looked at you for a second, before taking the headphones off and pressing his ear against one of the cushions, leaning down to your height. You furrowed your brows until he urged the other cushion toward you, and your breath hitched as you both listened to the song, heads mere centimetres away. Attempting to ignore the proximity, you shut your eyes too. Your chest thrummed.

Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace

I dream at night, I can only see your face

It came naturally to you, singing along to the lyrics under your breath, and Fred watched you, eyed the curve of your cupid's bow, the comfort rolling in waves off of you, the way your skin reflected the light. Shut his eyes again, a dim smile on his lips. Mouthed along when the chorus started up, to the words he recognised.

As the chorus came to an end, he slowly stood up straighter and you looked to him in disbelief, "No, no, this is the best part!"

You nodded in time to the music you could no longer hear, awkwardly shuffling the headphones back over his ears, disregarding the way your fingers carded through his hair. You knew this song by heart. You stared up at him, searching his reaction, and swallowed in disappointment when he hung the headphones around his neck. You stiffened as he casually slid the Walkman out of your waistband.

"How do you put the volume up?" He looked down at it, then back at you.

You blinked, recovering, "Um, it's just..." and reached to fiddle with a scroll on the top, "You just move this, up and down."

He followed your instructions until the music was loud enough to echo faintly through the corridor. After a few bad attempts, he finally slipped the cassette player into his own waistband, and began swaying along to it, grinning wide. The sting in your chest dissipated.

"I am the music!"

You panicked, shushing him, and he acquiesced, but continued to dance slowly in rhythm to your favourite song.

"Come on, Y/N," he beckoned, and you shook your head adamantly, "Come on!" he lilted, and began singing along to the lyrics clumsily, tripping over the words he was unsure of. He reached out a hand. You sighed, and slipped your own into his, ignoring the pounding against your ribs as he got you to sway with him.

You snorted at him under your breath, and, frightened, though unsure of what, you tugged at his hand, attempting to take yours out of his somewhat gentle grip, "The song's ending! What a shame!"

"Oh, not so fast," He freed your hand to point at you, "I know how this thing works."

"Is that so?" Hands feeling empty, you crossed them over your chest, looking over your shoulder to see if anyone else was around. Your anxiety settled somewhat when you recognised how truly alone you were. This moment was yours and yours alone. If only there hadn't been a live wire in front of you, unpredictable in every way: without him there, maybe you could've calmed yourself down.

He peered at you as you scanned the hallway nervously, and in an attempt to ease your nerves, circled you — Steal Away began, "Another song always plays."

You chewed at your lip, and he shuffled to the intro, finally mouthing along passionately.

C'mon and hold me

Just like you told me

Then show me

What I want to know

"My God." You groaned into your hands.

He continued, turning around you again, almost serenading you and clasping your hands in his with dramatic flair. Your face grew hotter.

"Fred!" you complained, as he spun you to one of his favourites, too.

"This is all your fault!" he exclaimed softly over the music.

"I know it is," You slumped your shoulders, feigning annoyance as he smirked cheekily at you, pulling you in, ruffling your hair.

Why don't we steal away

Why don't we steal away?

After a short while of being forced to play into his charade, you slipped out of his grasp, taking a few steps back and holding an arm out to stop him coming any closer. You patted your hair down, and wondered when and how you'd lost control of the situation so quickly.

"Come on, Fred. Song's almost over."

He nodded his head in time, making his way to you while grooving his shoulders, and you held back a smile, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip. You planted your hands on your hips.

"Is it?"

"Quite, yes."

"Really?" He sung, in front of you now and poking lightly at your sides. You dodged him, grinning but not backing away.

"Really."

"Really?" The tape ended, and he tilted his head down at you with a soft smile. He watched as your grin faded, your jaw set. The silence was humming in your ears, and you could practically feel your heart in your throat, hear you both breathing in sync.

"Enough, Fred," your voice sounded weaker, suddenly.

He swallowed, shaking his head, voice low.

"Why?"

You went to answer, went to defend yourself someway, somehow, albeit futile, when you both jumped at a clatter of footsteps down the hall. You straightened, shaking yourself out of a daze, and marched over to pick up your bag.

"We should get going."

He shook himself out of a stupor too, observing you as you turned around to face him, eager to get back to your dorm. This felt too much for one night. You were one heated glance away from a heart attack. When he didn't budge, you walked off without him, and after a few moments, he called after you.

"What about your Runman?"

You halted, satchel slung over your shoulder, turning around to eye him.

"It's Walkman. You know it's a Walkman."

"Okay, Walkman. And what about it?" He tilted his chin up, challenging you. You shifted in place.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, don't you want it back?"

Your voice got caught in your throat as you took a few steps forward, looking around. No more footsteps. The quiet was even more unsettling, "Yes, right. Just... give it here."

He patted it where it sat between his t-shirt and his jeans, and cocked his head.

"Why don't you come get it?"

Your throat felt as if it was closing up, palms itching, and you stuffed them in your back pockets. Searched for an even response, came up empty.

"Well, why don't you just come here and give it over?" You frowned, avoiding the way he examined you, the way he took a step forward. He was daring you. Daring himself.

"Okay," he said, easily.

"Oh, okay," you stammered.

He took another step, then another, and with a lower of his chin beckoned you to meet him in the middle. Despite how your feet brushed clumsily against one another, you reached him, a safe distance apart. You both stilled.

"Well," you faltered, "Give it over, then."

"Why don't," he started simply, shrugging his shoulders, "You come here, and get it?"

A silence settled between the two of you.

You wavered, struggling and frowning at yourself and your cowardice, squeezing your lips into a tight line. He raised a brow in question, and you wrestled with the knot of anxiety inside your stomach before pressing forward, stopping short when he took the final step towards you instead. A sharp inhale.

Moving slow, he took your headphones from around his neck and gently reached forward, leaning in close, letting his knuckles brush against your skin as he set them back around you.

You didn't protest, couldn't, as he eyed you cautiously, then gingerly drew your hair into his hands, up out from where it was trapped in the crook of your neck. Lowered it back down.

He fixed the cushions of the device, hands lingering. You exhaled shakily when he pulled back.

Not trusting your voice enough to speak, you took to watching his movements instead, tracking each intake of breath, the way his teeth tugged against his top lip. You had never seen him so concentrated, so serious. You wondered whether you'd been the first to see him like this. He stood with the tips of his shoes nearly touching yours, and you rolled back your shoulders slightly, unsure.

You both eyed the cable of your Walkman, stretched taut between you, tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers reached for it, then paused, stalling. His jaw ticked.

"Oh, just come here," he breathed out in exasperation, running his fingers through your hair and cupping your jaw tightly in his palms as he pressed his lips against yours. You gasped into the kiss, frozen a moment before humming contentedly, bag dropping off your shoulder and to the floor, shaky hands reaching up to clasp his face between them.

The thin cable of your Walkman wedges itself between the two of you, and your hip presses into the play button. With a soft click, Get It On starts playing from around your neck.

a/n: play the last three songs while reading! or else! the urge to add a kate bush song in here was real. oh, to be listening to every breath you take, nearly cheek to cheek with frederick weasley. a gal can dream.

[leclerced]

hiii cait hope you’re having a great new year so far!!

I’d love a blurb about reader riding Charles for the first time and he’s praising her about how good her pussy feels and being so sweet and patient and trying to let her find her rhythm but when her legs get the littlest bit tired he’s impatient and completely takes over and fucks up into her and makes her cum like 3 times hehehe <3

hello sweets! so far so good, i feel i've done a lot of writing in the last day or two which is my goal for this year!!

i did a quick drabble thingy for u i hope u like it <3

Charles thinks he's going to be driven insane by the slow rock of her hips against his. He was disappointed when she didn't want to go out to the rooftop party Max was throwing for New Years, opting to stay in home and celebrate alone. He wasn't expecting her to interrupt their movie marathon to ride him. He's not complaining, really, there's no better way to start the new year than being sunk into her wet, warm walls. Unless maybe he was on top of her, fucking her senseless instead of her taking her sweet time riding him. That could be better, he thinks, as she slowly lifts her hips and sinks onto him. He's being patient, enjoying having her on top of him for the first time. He just wishes she would speed up a little.

He's a race car driver for a reason. He likes the rush, the adrenaline he feels. His mind is always thinking about it's next move, never taking the time to relax and take things slow. Life goes by too fast to sit back and relax, he thinks, he wants to be moving with it the entire time. But now, he's being relegated to sinking into the couch cushions and forcing back the urge to grab her hips harder and thrust up into her. She whines as she grinds down against him and he sighs, "That's it, pet, you are doing so well." Her head tips back between her shoulders and she arches her back as another whine leaves her. Charles leans forward to meet her halfway and press a kiss to her sweaty chest as he slides his hand up her back, pressing her closer.

She swirls her hips around and his head spins as pleasure spreads all over his body. He rubs his nose along the column of her throat as he squeezes her ass and she purrs, "You feel so good like this, so deep in me."

He nods, his lips brushing her collarbone and he nips at it softly, "Yeah? Taking me so well, putain, driving me crazy." He feels her cunt flutter around him and her hips stutter as she lifts up and sinks down again, a needy moan spilling from her lips as she rocks on his cock. He slips both hands back down to her thighs and he can feel them trembling under his soft touch. He grinds his hips up into hers and she gasps sweetly, her nails digging into his shoulders. He presses his lips to her pulse point before brushing his nose against the shell of her ear, "Want me to make you cum?"

The way her pussy clenches around him at the word makes him groan. Her voice is shaky as she begs, "Please, yes, please." Immediately, he slips one hand between her legs to press against her clit as the other moves to keep her pressed against him as he leans back into the cushions. She sighs at the new angle, sliding her hands down his chest and back up before locking them around his neck and slotting her lips against his.

He gives her the kiss, lets her kiss him soft and sweet as he slowly rocks his hips against hers. He waits until she parts to catch her breath to pull all the way out before he thrust his hips up into hers, her entire body quivers as she lets out a shocked moan. Her head drops down onto his shoulder and he feels her pussy squeezing him as he sets a quick shallow pace. It's the complete opposite of her languid grinding. She had been riding him for twenty minutes, just enjoying the feel of him inside of her, but he could have made her cum three times within that span, so he's on a mission to make up for lost time. The first one comes within a minute of him changing the pace, her nails drag down his chest and she sinks her teeth into his collar bone as she shudders on top of him.

He'd normally give her time to relax between orgasm, but he doesn't miss a beat as he easily supports her weight when she goes slack on top of him mid orgasm and continues his brutal pace. The second one comes soon after, when her body is still thrumming with the heat of her first orgasm, and she feels like heaven around him when she coats his cock. By the time the third one comes he's succeeded in fucking her stupid. He has a line of drool dripping down his chest because her mouth is hanging open in as her third orgasm wracks through her body. She's so overwhelmed by pleasure, she can't find a moment to close her mouth, or maybe she's so fucked out she can't remember to swallow the saliva building up, so it's spilling out of the corner of her mouth as she moans against his skin.

By the time midnight comes around, both of them are too fucked out to notice the fireworks going off and that they're supposed to kiss at midnight, her face buried in his shoulder as he works her towards her fifth, or maybe sixth orgasm.