#people take photos of nice places and buildings when they go out

[frankenbuggee]

Pretty sure my art blog is now just becoming a Devious art blog.

Anyway have some old art from my phantom of the opera fixation time. With a redraw from the 1990 phantom of the opera of Devious.

Also big fan of drawing characters into pictures.

[ellecdc]

Heyyy! I’m usually a silent tumblr warrior but omg I keep coming up with so many different Au’s in my head. 🙈 Also I love your writing it’s godsent. 😏

Tonight I was thinking of Model!Reader x photographer!Remus 😖💔. Who are like totally obsessed with each other and are always supporting their careers. Remmy getting sooo many candid photos of reader and using them in his portfolio. Along with them both going to each others viewings/ runway shows. I just can’t omg so many possibilities ..🥲

~🪼

this is so. stinking. cute. the second I received this I had to send it to @maladaptiveescapism (my muggle AU queen who gifted us all the beautiful, beautiful man that is chef!sirius) and she came up with the SWEETEST meet cute. thank you for sharing this prompt, lovie!! I hope I did it justice <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who ends up being Remus' big break [2.6k words]

CW: fluff, swearing, reader has a dog and he's adorable, meet cute, fame

Remus needn’t look in a mirror (or one of the windows of the shops on the street) to know that his nose was pink; he had always been very sensitive to the cold, and it was only exacerbated by his love for it.

It was his favourite time of year; waking up in the morning when the ground was still covered in shimmery frost before turning into a misty fog as the sun poked its way through trees and buildings. The trees and grass were still grasping desperately at the shades of greens that it usually wore, but the leaves - determined in their journey - insisted on turning various shades of oranges, yellows, reds, and browns.

Remus loved them. 

He also found that people were perhaps their most beautiful when cold - he hardly ever left for his morning walks without his camera, which also meant he left for his morning walks without a pair of mittens or gloves which might impede his ability to control the lens and shutter - and there was something about the cool air that brought out the most beautiful colours in not only the trees, but also of the people. 

And Remus yearned to capture it.

He’d found a beautiful elderly man enjoying a mocha outside a small coffee shop who he chatted with for a while before he asked him if he’d be okay to take some pictures. Every crinkle near the corners of his eyes was evidence of laughter and joy, every wrinkle between his brow a testament to years of consideration and thought, every divot around his mouth was a story he shared, a kiss he gave, a meal he enjoyed. 

Every deep line on the man’s face - Albus had been his name - told a story, and Remus was lucky enough to have captured even a fraction of it with his camera. 

Remus’ fingers were struggling to thaw out in his pockets as he took the long way home - traversing through the quiet park in the centre of the city which was slowly becoming more lively as the morning wore on and the sun rose higher, though it was still quiet enough for Remus to enjoy. 

Some days he had more luck than others, not because there was a lack of beautiful people - because there was surely no shortage of that - but rather nothing that inspired Remus to create. 

Some days it frustrated him, and some days he was able to remind himself he was really doing this for fun and not being paid for his portraits save what small income he made through creator perks on various social media platforms. 

How nice it would be to get paid for his portraits, though. 

Remus had paused in his walk to bend over and pick up a disposable coffee cup from the sidewalk to put it in a rubbish bin when he spotted the perfect picture. 

There was a wrought-iron and wooden slat park bench a few paces away from the footpath in the park sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops as if some deity had placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice it.

The patch of grass that the sun was kissing was melting into its usual green whilst the grass surrounding it was still its unique combination of dark sage, green, and silver courtesy of the autumn twilight.

A senior looking dog - a border collie, if Remus guessed correctly - attached to a simple red lead seemed to have found himself a good stick for chewing as he basked in the sun, the lead looped gently around the wrist of his person who sat on the bench with a ratty looking paperback in their hand. 

You were ethereal. 

You had one hand shoved into a knitted mitten whilst the other held your book, though a second mitten sat ready should you no doubt decide your free hand was too cold and needed to switch. You had multiple layers on and a comfy pair of shoes. Clearly out for a walk yet knowing that your dog did less walking now-a-days and spent more time in sunny spots with a nice stick, you came prepared with a novel to enjoy the transitionary season much the same way Remus did. 

And you were stunning.

You looked like a sip of warm apple cider, like the trees had parted their branches just to give the sun somewhere to direct its warmth and light, like the sun came out only for the chance of seeing you.

Remus actually took a look around him to see if anyone else was seeing what he was - nothing short of a masterpiece - but the masses appeared wholly unaware that they were in the presence of something hallowed. 

He lost his nerve more times than he could count as he tried to convince his boots to take him in your direction, to start up the conversation the same way he always did with every other stranger he stopped on the street to take their picture. But this felt different, you were different, you-

…were looking over at him; your dog ceasing to chew on his stick in favour of staring intently at Remus alerting you to the fact that you had an admirer (at best, or a stalker at worst).

To avoid looking like the latter, Remus forced his feet to bring him to you, smiling at you as you marked your place in your book and closed it before offering him a wary smile of your own. 

“Pardon me, I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but, erm, well-” sodding son of a bitch, stick to the script, “my name is Remus and I’m a street photographer, I uhm, I take portraits of people I pass on the street and post them to my socials.” He offered awkwardly as he pulled out his phone - numb fingers nearly dropping it as he raced to try to prove to you he wasn’t some creep with a long-distance lens on his camera hanging around public parks - wincing as the end of his sentence lilted up in the form of a question. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you and your dog, here,” he pushed on, said dog still watching him carefully and tilting his head at the end of every one of his sentences, “and you look beautiful- or, rather, it makes a beautiful picture! I, well, I guess I was wondering if you’d mind if…I took your picture?”

And by some absolute twist of fate, you had the good graces to simply smile at him like he wasn’t some awkward bumbling fool which only served to make you even more beautiful as you handed him his phone back.

“That’s really cool, Remus,” you offered, sounding as though you were testing how his name felt forming from your lips as you made eye contact with him, “thank you. I’d be happy to be your model.”

“Brilliant.” Remus let out with a breath of relief. “Now are you and…” he paused as he gestured toward your companion. 

“Ziggy.”

“...Ziggy a package deal or should I ask him his rates?” 

You let out a bubbly laugh which encouraged Ziggy to sit up - albeit slowly due to his age - and cock his head at you. 

“What do you say, Ziggs?” You asked the canine who cocked its head the other way. “Do you want to model too?” 

As if the dog knew you were waiting for a response, he let out a polite bark before laying back down. 

“Well there you have it, Remus; we’re all yours.” 

The picture returned to its previous perfection; between you returning to your novel sans one mitten and Ziggy’s focus back to his treasure, Remus was able to capture you exactly how he wanted. You were wearing a soft smile which only grew when Remus nearly bumped into a jogger in an attempt to get a different angle. 

You held your book to your mouth to hide your laughing as he called a hasty apology to the girl who barely slowed down on his account, and he shot a cute picture of you like that, too; your eyes full of mirth and crinkling at the corners in a quiet laugh at his expense. 

Remus was infatuated. 

It felt blasphemous in some way, but Remus had to admit he was very chuffed to have an excuse to join you on your alter bench, pretending as though you leaning into him - for warmth or for a better view of his camera screen, he wasn’t sure - didn’t make him feel like his heart was trying to exit out of his throat as you sung your praises for the pictures. 

“Remus.” You hissed as if you really couldn’t believe your eyes. “These are really good! Oh my god…”

Remus chuckled awkwardly as you brought the camera closer to you, ultimately forcing Remus to breathe your air as the camera strap pulled his body closer to yours. 

“You’re very talented.” You added earnestly  before looking up at him with something akin to awe. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“Erm, well,” he mumbled, suddenly very aware that he was nearly on top of a relative stranger in this public park at about 8:30 in the morning, “I…sort of? I mean, I have my socials.”

You nodded at him and looked back down at his camera before passing it back to him. “Are you going to post these?” 

“I’d very much like to, if you’re okay with that?” 

“Please do.” You agreed readily. “Do you tag people in your portraits?”

Remus nearly snickered as he thought of Albus this morning who seemed completely perplexed by the phone in Remus’ hand let alone by the concept of social media. “Sometimes; not everyone I photograph is online. Would you like to be tagged?”

“Yes please.” You beamed at him; Remus’ fingers itched to lift his camera back up to capture you like this, too. Fuck, you were beautiful. “My mum’s always saying she doesn’t have nearly enough pictures of me.”

“Well we can’t have that.” Remus chuckled as he pulled out his phone and opened the notes app so you could add your Instagram handle. 

“It was very nice meeting you, Remus.” You offered, and Remus felt something close to shock at how truly sincere you sounded. “You should be charging people for that.” You added, gesturing to the camera hanging from his neck. 

“I could always start now.” He offered in jest, and he was rewarded again by your bubbling laugh; Remus felt nearly torn at having to leave, every shift of your face and expression begging to be photographed, and every muscle in his body begging to do the photographing. 

But when he offered you a smile and a slightly awkward wave as he walked away  - the sound of your laugh still  echoing in his mind - he wondered if maybe, in some universe out there, there was a version of him that got to commit every expression that crossed your face - to memory or film, either would suffice. 

𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱

The following day, Remus couldn’t escape the office meeting quick enough; his phone buzzing incessantly the last twenty five minutes of the forty five minute planning session - that he was supposed to be taking dutiful notes throughout - burning a hole through his trouser pocket and into the muscle of his thigh. 

35 missed calls from Sirius.

12 missed calls from James

Sirius: answer the fucking phone, you sod!!

Sirius: when the fuck did you take these!?!? (4 attachments)

Sirius: Lupin I STG

James: Lily is freaking out!!! Did you get an autograph??

James: who am I kidding. You had no idea, did you?

“What the fuck…” Remus murmured under his breath as he scrolled through the notifications on his lock screen, blushing something fierce when a coworker brushed past him reminding him he was supposed to be being professional which generally meant not swearing. 

The second Remus stepped onto the pavement outside of his building, his phone started ringing again. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He answered instead of saying ‘hello, Sirius; alright?’. 

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sirius barked back. “How about you tell me when the fuck you met Y/N L/N!?” 

Remus felt his eyebrows cinch as he pulled his phone from his face when another text came in. 

Lily: I’m so fucking jealous right now!

Lily: also, I should probably say congrats; I’m sure this is going to be great for your career!

“Remus!”

“Christ, Sirius, I’m here.” Remus muttered as he brought the phone back to his ear. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Son of a bitch.” Sirius muttered on the other end of the line. “The pictures you posted yesterday!”

“Of the man? Or-”

“The bird! Remus! Y/N L/N!”

Remus suddenly realised why the name sounded familiar; it had been your instagram handle.

“Oh! Do you know her?”

“Do I know her? Mate, she’s fucking famous.”

“What?”

“She’s a sodding model! She’s been in Sports Illustrated, walked in New York Fashion Week and Paris Fashion Week, she was in a music video recently; fuck who was the artist…”

“Wha- what the fuck? How did I not know this?” Remus asked dumbly. 

“God, you’re thick. Did you not notice the fucking blue checkmark next to her name on instagram when you tagged her?” 

Remus was so glad Sirius couldn’t see him right now; he always felt properly chastised when it was Sirius handing his ass to him, but this felt bigger somehow. 

“Well… I don’t know, I’m verified too but that doesn’t mean anyone knows me!” He argued half-heartedly; he really hadn’t noticed…

Sirius snorted. “Yeah well, everyone’s gonna know you now, mate.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked sternly.

“I mean” Sirius started theatrically “that she’s shared your original post to her story and posted your pictures to her page and tagged you as the photographer. She only posted it two hours ago and it already has almost 70,000 likes. Have you not looked at instagram?”

“Sirius, I work in a fucking corporate office, I can’t be on my phone all of the time.” He spat rather petulantly. 

“Bully for you.” Sirius muttered in response. “Check now then.”

Remus stole himself as he closed the call screen that simply consisted of a terrible picture of Sirius before opening up instagram. 

The notification tab simply read 100+, but when he moved to view his profile he realised he had gained nearly 10,000 followers just since leaving for work this morning. 

“Jesus…” Remus breathed out slowly. 

“You might want to put a portfolio together, mate.” Sirius offered, tone still slightly teasing, though the edges were softer and Sirius’ pride was nearly palpable even through the phone. “This might finally be your big break.”

All because Remus had noticed you - a beautiful girl - in the park with a book and a dog sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops… as if some deity placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice. 

And of course he noticed you; how could he not?

I'd be happy to be your model. Do you have a portfolio? You should be charging people for that.

This might finally be your big break. 

Little did either of you know that you would end up being Remus’ big break.

[slut4hee]

I Can Keep A Secret, Can You?

{Paring: Idol Heeseung x Blk Fem! Reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

{Genre: smut, nda signing, secret relationship, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: You joined a fan sign raffle for a chance to speak to the members of Enhypen, but specifically your ult bias Lee Heeseung. You joined for the heck of it, not thinking you would win but to your luck you did. Not only did you get a chance to speak face to face with Heeseung, you got to sign an nda with him…

{Warnings: Softdom heeseung, sub reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, (use protection my lovelies), oral ( f receiving), big dick hee, kissing, titty play, doggystyle, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, cum eating, squirting, dirty talk, pet names.

You screamed to the top of your lungs, as you read the email stating that you won an entry to an in person Enhypen fan signing event, in Seoul South Korea. You couldn’t believe what you were reading right now, you out of all people got selected to meet the Enhypen face to face, in the flesh.

You’ve always been a big fan of Enhypen, being that you’ve been supporting them since I-land, and you literally own every single one of their albums and posters. You loved all the members of Enhypen, but there was one particular member you loved a little bit more.

Lee Heeseung, he was your ult bias and you were so in love with him. You’ve been biasing Heeseung since the beginning, and you have all of his photo cards, as well as his pictures and posters all over your wall. The fact that you will get to meet and speak with Heeseung in person, has all types of butterflies erupting in your stomach and so many emotions going through your head all at once.

You quickly started searching for flights to Korea, and browsing many hotels and airbnbs. Finally after hours of looking for the perfect hotel and the appropriate flight, you booked them both squealing in excitement as you jumped up and down on your bed. You got ready for bed, but you knew sleep wouldn’t come so easily for you, because of how excited and shocked you were, you couldn’t wait for the day to come.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Fast forward, it’s now been a week since you found out you’re going to meet Enhypen in person, to meet Heeseung in person. You are now in Seoul, and you’re currently in your hotel room, doing your makeup and getting ready to head to fan sign. That’s right, today is the day your dreams come true and you couldn’t be more happier. You honestly still can’t believe you won the freaking fan sign, and on top of that you get to visit South Korea, one of your dream destinations.

You finally finished your makeup, going with a natural yet soft pink look. You also wore a cute little light pink crop top, with a denim mini skirt showing off your beautiful curves, and you styled your hair in a slicked back bun, your edges laying nicely. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, admiring your beauty loving how your makeup and hair turned out, you hoped Heeseung would think the same.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

You’re now standing in line, waiting to enter the building. Your nerves are all over the place and your heart is racing in anticipation as you wait to go inside. It’s really fucking happening, you thought to yourself as reality sets in that you’re about to be face to face with 7 Korean men you’ve only seen on tv, and in concert.

Finally after what felt like eternity, the line moves as the staff starts letting people in, you practiced deep breaths, as you make your way inside the venue, you’re so nervous and anxious you don’t know what to expect. You made it in, and a staff member checks your invitation, before leading you to your seat in the front.

Your heart beats out of your chest, when you realize just how close you are to the stage. Your hands trembled as you held up your phone to snap a picture of the stage. Just as you’re about to take the picture, the crowd of engenes burst into a fit of screams, shouting the members names as they arrived on stage.

You smiled with excitement, waving and screaming for the members as they introduced themselves and bowed to the crowd. Your eyes were on Heeseung the whole time, you couldn’t believe how much more handsome and ethereal he looked in person. Suddenly Heeseung made eye contact with you, his stare lingering a little longer before he turned away smirking to himself.

Did Heeseung just smirk at me, you thought to yourself as you try to process what just happened. Not long after you were being called up for your turn to interact with the members. You started with Jungwon, telling him how much you adored him, and appreciated all his hard work as a leader.

Then it was Sunoo, you expressed how much you enjoyed his vocals and how beautiful he was. Finally after speaking to the rest of the members you then made it to Heeseung. Your palms are sweaty and your knees felt stiff, as you take your seat in front of him. Heeseung gazes at you, studying your facial features.

“Oh my god, Heeseung I love you so much I’m sorry I just don’t know what to I-“ you tripped over your words, feeling nervous from his intense gaze and the fact you are sitting right in front of him, is a bit overwhelming. Heeseung smiled brightly at you, showing off his pearly white teeth, as he reached his hand to hold yours. You were a little taken aback by his sudden move, but you quickly complied, holding his hand with yours.

“Tell me your name princess” he smirked, swaying both of your hands back and forth. You blushed hard at the pet name, not being able to hold eye contact with him. He noticed that, as he titled his head to the side a little as he waited for you to answer his question.

“My name is Y/n, I came all the way from the U.S to meet you Heeseung” you explained with enthusiasm, a wide grin displaying your face. As you both continued to talk, you noticed how Heeseung listened so attentively at what you had to say, and you weren’t so sure, but you would think that Heeseung was into you, by the way he seemed so interested in your day to day life.

Unfortunately it was time to move on to the next fan, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that it went by so quickly. You expressed your love and appreciation towards Heeseung one last time before standing up to take your leave. What you didn’t notice was that Heeseung was watching you the whole entire time as you walked back to your seat, not even noticing that the next fan had sat in front of him.

Heeseung knew he had to have you, you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he couldn’t deny you intrigued him so much, it was just something about you that he couldn’t quite grasp, but he was determined to have you in his bed by the end of the night. So he quickly called over one of the staff members, whispering something in their ear. The staff member nodded in agreement before walking off.

As you’re grabbing your things getting ready to leave, you feel someone tap you on your shoulder catching your attention. You looked up to see a Tall Korean gentleman with a black mask covering his face. You looked at him confused, wondering if you done something wrong.

“Miss if you don’t mind, would you be willing to follow me to the backstage” he asked you politely, you looked at him a little suspiciously, wondering why on earth would he be asking you to come backstage with him.

“I don’t understand, did I do something wrong?” You asked him, feeling nervous and anxious. The man quickly shook his head no, you immediately felt relief wash over you, hoping you didn’t say or do anything to make any of the members feel uncomfortable.

“No miss you’ve done nothing wrong, it’s just” he leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “One of the members has requested your presence backstage” he replied, you stared at him in a state of shock, trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth. You wondered which one of the members actually asked for you backstage.

“U-Uh okay” you stuttered, feeling a little skeptical and worried, you were just hoping you weren’t being tricked and you’re actually being led to your death. Only one way to find out right? The man nodded, as you followed him backstage.

Finally he stopped at a door, that had a sign on it that said “Staff Only” You swallowed down your nerves, as you prepared yourself for the worst. The gentleman opened the door and behind it was two other Korean gentleman, who were sitting at a desk, one of them holding a stick of papers.

“Please come in and take a seat please” the man with the stack of papers said, as he gestured you towards the seat. You gulped before taking a seat. The man then laid the stack of papers in front of you, as well as a pen. You looked up at him confused, why was he handing you a contract??

“I know this is a bit out of the blue Miss Y/n, but it seems that one of our Artists has taken a liking to you and has requested for a one night stand with you” the man spoke with seriousness in his tone, you stared at him wide eyed, did he just say what you think he just said. You looked down at the paper in front of you, and at the top of it read the words “𝑵𝑫𝑨” in bold letters.

“Umm may I ask which artist has requested for me” you replied, as you shifted in your seat, feeling a little uncertain about this whole situation. The other man then spoke, you recognized him before, you’ve seen him with the members when you saw them at their world tour.

“My apologies, let me introduce myself. My name is Park Sunwoo and I’m the manager for Enhypen. And to answer your question, Lee Heeseung has requested for you Miss Y/n” he nodded. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when he said that, the Lee Heeseung wanted to sign an NDA with you?!

“Before we get started, I do want to let you know that you have every right to decline this offer Miss Y/n. But for me to further explain any more information about this, I would need you to sign your signature on this line right here on the paperwork” he pointed to the line, indicating that you sign your name. You bit your lip nervously, debating whether you should sign it or not.

But when will you ever get the opportunity to have a one night stand with Heeseung, when will you get the chance to do anything like this. You’ve never been the one to do one night stands, or just give up your goodies the first time you meet a guy, but this was so much different. This was Lee Heeseung from Enhypen we’re talking about it, so without any further thought you signed your name on the paper.

“Very well then. Thank you so much for agreeing to the terms Miss Y/n, I will now explain how this whole process works. So you have agreed to signing an NDA, with Artist Lee Heeseung. This means that whatever You and Lee Heeseung decide to do tonight is strictly prohibited from the public eye, do you wish to continue?” He asked, scanning through the pages of the paperwork.

“Yes, I-I do” you responded, fiddling with your fingers. This was just too much to process, you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t a little excited though. He then flipped to the last page of the contract.

“Going forward, we also want to make you aware that failing to comply with the rules of the contract is automatic breach, that goes for both parties. So without further ado, would you please sign your name one last time and we can move forward” Your trembling hands grabbed ahold of the pen, signing your name on the line once again.

“Great, everything has been finalized. We would be contacting you with information regarding your evening plans with Heeseung, once your background check comes back clean. Thank you for your time Miss Y/n” Park Sunwoo stood up to shake your hand. You shook his hand and thanked him before you were led out the back exit.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

As you got back to your hotel, you had been checking your phone nonstop, feeling anxious and impatient. Finally your phone dinged with a notification, and you grabbed your phone so fast, opening your messages.

Unknown Number: Hello, Miss Y/n. Just informing you that your background check came back clean, and I will now be sending over a personal driver to pick you up from your hotel, to bring you to Heeseung’s private accommodation.

You: Oh okay, thank you so much.

Ten minutes later, you received another text from an unknown number, stating that they’re waiting for you down at the lobby. You quickly grabbed your things, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, before heading downstairs. You were now in the back of a Black Mercedes Benz Van, with the windows tinted. Not shorty after, you were pulling into a parking lot of very nice modern style Airbnb.

“We have arrived” the man hopped out of the driver’s seat to open your passenger seat door for you. You thanked him and smiled, and he bowed before getting back into the van and driving off.

You nervously walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Not long after, none other than Heeseung himself answered the door. You gasp inaudible at the sight of Heeseung clad in a white tank top, gray sweats pants, and his hair damp from the shower you assumed he just finished.

“Come in please” he moved to the side to let you by. You nervously walked into the house, taking in the scenery of the place. It was nice and cozy and looked lived in. It’s like Heeseung read your mind when he said “This is my place actually, I stay here when I’m not out on schedules or on vacations” he nodded and smiled, as he walked closer to you.

“It’s really beautiful Hee, I love it” you blushed shyly, feeling a little hot from the close proximity of your bodies almost touching. “Hee?” He questioned as he smirked and wrapped his arms around your waist. You damn near melted, your knees feeling like they’re going to give out on you any minute now.

“I-I mean Heeseung, sorry it’s like a nickname all of us fans call you” you stuttered, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Heeseung chuckled, biting his lip, then leaning down to be face level with you because he towers over you. You’d breath hitched, as you feel his lips ghosting over yours.

“Is this okay, do you mind if I kiss you baby girl” he spoke lowly, his voice sounding husky and laced with desire. You whimpered, feeling your arousal starting to leak through your panties.

“God yes, yes you can kiss me plea-“ before you could even finish your sentence, Heeseung’s lips crashed against yours, kissing you with hunger and fervor. You moaned into the kiss, when you felt Heeseung’s hands gripping your ass. You let out a yelp, when Heeseung suddenly picked you up leading you to the bedroom.

“Fuck, you don’t know how bad i want you baby, fucking took everything in me not to pull you into one of the dressing rooms and fuck you stupid” he groaned, laying you on the bed as he got on top of you, attacking your lips once again. You could only moan in response, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Heeseung, please I need you please do something” you begged shamelessly, still not processing that you’re about to fuck Lee Heeseung, someone you thought you would never have the chance to meet, but here you were about to get your brains fucked out by him.

“Shhh, patience baby I’m gonna give you what you want” he smirked, as he started to undress you. He tugged your top off, and unclasp your bra effortlessly starting to suck on your brown nipple, his other hand fondling the other. You arched your back, rubbing your thighs together trying to gain some type of friction.

“God baby, you’re so fucking sexy gotta taste your sweet little cunt now” he growled, tugging your panties off and spreading your legs wide. You whined, when he dragged his long fingers through your wet folds, sliding his finger inside.

“Fuck, this slutty pussy so tight, fuck can’t wait to stuff you full of my cock mama” he hissed, as he watched the way your tight pussy sucked his finger in. He then leaned down to lick a stripe of your pussy, licking and sucking your clit softly.

“Oh my fucking god, shit Hee baby feels so good” you screamed in pleasure, your legs shaking uncontrollably, as you grabbed ahold of his fluffy hair. His wet tongue felt like heaven on your pussy and you couldn’t get enough.

“Shit baby, wet little pussy taste so good, fuck I could eat your sweet cunt forever” he groaned, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure through you, you gripped his locks a little harder, feeling your climax approaching dangerously.

“Ughh, fuck Hee I’m g-gonna cum” you cried out, your legs trembling as the band in your stomach threatens to snap any minute.

“Cum for me, cream on my face pretty little slut” he flicked his tongue faster against your clit, plunging his fingers deep inside your tight pussy. Not long after you were coming undone on his mouth and fingers, squirting your essence everywhere. Heeseung cursed under his breath at the sight of your spent pussy, leaking out your juices.

“Damn sweetheart, that was so hot I’m so hard I need to feel you wrapped around my cock” he whined, as he quickly rid himself of his clothes, showing off his perfectly lean build, and his long hard cock that leaks precum from the tip. You mouth watered at the sight, as you grabbed his dick stroking him slowly.

“Ah-fuck, shit that feels so good Y/n” he whined, his hips buckling up involuntarily. You bit your lip at the way his heavy cock twitched in your hand so desperately. Before he could come undone, he swatted your hand away, earring a whine from you.

“Get on all fours for me baby” his voice sounding strained, as tugged at his hard cock. You quickly, laid your face down in the pillows, and poking your ass out arching your back. Heeseung smacked your ass before aligning his cock up at your hole. He started to push himself inside you, his cock sliding in easily from how wet and turned on you are. He lets you adjust to his size for a minute before setting a rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth.

“Fuuckkk, you’re so fucking tight, god baby sucking me in so good” he lets out deep grunts as he pounds into you from behind. You gripped the sheets roughly, feeling every inch of Heeseung’s cock penetrating your walls.

“Yes yes yes, fuck me harder please harder” you screamed, throwing your ass back at him as you desperately chased after his thrusts. Heeseung threw his head back, showing off his flushed neck. You clenched your pussy tighter around him, earning a whiny moan from him.

“Ahh f-fuck, stop clenching baby or I’m gonna cum” he hissed in pleasure, gripping your waist tighter as he slammed into you roughly. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“Please Daddy, fill me up with your babies, I want your load inside me” you looked back at him, tears gathering in your waterlines, from the intense pleasure you’re feeling. Heeseung’s hips stuttered, as his strokes became sloppy, losing his pace.

“Shit shit shit, I’m about to cum Nghh fuck” he moaned deeply, his thrusts became erratic as he chased his high. Not long after his hips stilled, shooting ropes of thick cum inside you. The feeling of his hot cum, triggered another orgasm out of you, squirting and creaming all over his dick. He pulls his softening cock out, watching the way his cum and your arousal leaks from your spent hole.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You smiled weakly at him before snuggling your face into his neck.

“Wow baby, that was the best sex I ever had in my life” he chuckled weakly, his breathing still uneven from the intense orgasm he had.

“I can’t believe I just fucked Lee Heeseung” you said in disbelief, as you looked up at him before kissing his lips. He kissed you back, as he rubbed your back softly.

“𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗛𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴”

“𝗜𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼, 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂?”

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚍…

A/n: FUCK FUCK FUCK, if I ever get to sign an nda with Heeseung, just know ima fuck the life out of this man🤭 but honestly I’m thinking about making a part two of this where reader and hee possibly start dating secretly 👀. Let me know if you guys want it, hope you guys like it and reblogs are greatly appreciated. ᯓᡣ𐭩

_____________________________________________

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩:

@wave2hoon

[chrisevansonly]

Lando’s Girls

lando norris x female reader

summary: there is no one lando loves more than you and his little baby girl

warnings: none very cute and soft lando

a/n: hi hi i’m a slob at writing i know but hopefully getting back into it more frequently this is meh but enjoy 😭

The sun was out in Monaco, the warm breeze filtering through the balconies that overlooked the harbour, the waves rolling into the many yachts that lined the docks. But up here, all the way up on the top floor of the building, sat Lando with his little baby girl Eloise Norris, all 8 months of her, looking up happily at her dad.

“oh you’re smiling at me huh? my cheeky girl”

Eloise flailed her arms as she hit her stomach lightly, letting out little babbles, Lando wishing he could hear these sounds for the rest of his life.

“i think you like the sun hmm? finally some nice weather?”

Lando had let you get some extra sleep after being up through the night with her, she’d been fighting off a cold and finally seemed to be turning the corner to getting back to her normal self.

You’d wandered downstairs in search of the two of them, furrowing your brows when they weren’t in the living room or playroom, but the sound of more giggles caught your attention and you made your way to the screen door.

“well there are my two favourite people!”

At the sound of your voice Eloise smiled even wider, Lando gently picking her up so she could stand, holding her sides so she wouldn’t wobble or fall.

“aren’t you the cutest little bug! did daddy dress you?”

Lando smiled

“say yes, my daddy dressed me, he does it the best!”

“Lan!”

Smacking him on the shoulder he laughed, before tilting his head back so you could lean down and kiss him, only then sitting next to them and kissing your little girls cheeks.

“daddy is being mean to mummy huh angel?”

Eloise smiled still, babbling away as she reached for you, your arms pulling her to your chest, before you leaned back into Lando, relaxing against him.

“i am doing no such thing…”

“oh sure you aren’t”

A quiet fell over the two of you, traffic noises beginning to fill the space as the city woke up more and more, Eloise’s eyes fluttering shut as she fell asleep against you.

“no better place in the world than right here, with my girls”

“lando’s girls hmm?”

Pressing a few kisses to your neck he hummed in response, every second he got to spend at home with the two of you, he never ever took for granted. The race season was long and hard, even more so being away from you and little norris too.

“thank you for this morning love..”

“you don’t have to thank me, i just wanted you to get your sleep”

Smiling you leaned further into him, the sun warm on your skin, a feeling after a few days of rain you missed.

“I love you”

Lando smiled as your eyes fluttered shut, his arms tightening around the two of you

“I love you to my angels…”

As you fell asleep along with your daughter, Lando couldn’t help but admire you both. Taking a few photos to save for himself, one that would turn into his lock screen a few hours later. He would do anything for his girls, be the best husband and father he could be, keep you both smiling and happy, and going above and beyond to keep you two safe and protected.

Even being the world’s best pillow for nap times, because let’s face it…he was a pretty comfy one.

[gucciwins]

harry brings his girlfriend home to meet his family but it does not go as planned

word count: 5896

a/n: enjoy this story inspired by a lovely anon. happy reading, my sweet friends 💜

+

Y/N was nervous. 

She squeezed Harry’s hand, trying to ground herself, but it seemed to transport her to the first time they met at the diner down the street from her apartment. 

Going to university in Los Angeles wasn’t glamorous, not when she had endless bills to pay to keep a roof over her head. She had gone to Martha’s Cakes, a small diner ten minutes from her apartment that served the best hot chocolate. The food was good too but the hot chocolate is what she ordered each visit without fail. It’s a place she’d eat when Y/N had a bit of extra to spend on herself. Instead of buying herself new shoes, or another jelly cat bag charm (Otto, the sausage dog, went everywhere with her) she decided on eating a good meal that didn’t consist of ramen or buttered noodles. She came here when she needed a pick me up or simply wanted to have a nice conversation. It was a late Tuesday in the Spring. Where the sun took longer to come down, allowing her extra time at the bar to do assignments and chat with Antonio about the best produce sales. Y/N had her head down working on an essay due two weeks from now. It was based on one of Los Angeles buildings; it could be based on the oldest church to the Dodger Stadium. Y/N decided on the Avila Adobe residence. Known as the oldest standing residence in the City of Los Angeles. Olvera St. was a famous street and was filled with history. It was one of her favorite places to walk through. 

As she was looking through photos, taking notes of significant dates, a patron sat next to her. Y/N didn’t bother seeing who it was, simply scooting her scattered papers closer to her, tucking a few under her laptop. 

“It’s not bothering me.” A man spoke. 

It startled Y/N only because he had a deep British voice. It felt odd to be hearing in such an unknown area. 

“Darla would throw coffee on it if she saw I was bothering a customer.” 

“I said it’s okay.” 

Y/N laughs. “She would say it wasn’t.” 

It seems the man lets it drop as he has nothing to reply. Y/N keeps up with updating her notes as she hears the man order a stack of the lemon poppy pancakes. Those were her favorite, Y/N would get them when she was having a bad day because it would without a fail make her smile. Y/N worked in silence over the next half hour when she felt the need to step to the restroom. Y/N did not want to pack up. Usually she asks a staff member to watch her items, but the diner seemed to be a bit busier. She looked around and her eyes landed on the pancake guy who had his headphones on. She hated bothering people, but he looked kind enough. 

Y/N tapped next to his plate to get his attention. It worked because in seconds he slipped off his headphones and had turned his whole body to look at her. It gave her the chance to look at him fully for the first time. He had a buzz cut, and it looked really good. He had slight stubble, but what captured her attention were his bright jade eyes. It felt like he was staring deep into her soul.

“Do–uh–Would you please watch my stuff? I have to use the ladies’ room.”

“Course. Guard it with my life.” 

Y/N thanked him and hurried away. When she came back, the man had slightly shifted over, his eyes staring intently at the dark screen of her laptop. 

“Thank you,” she shot him a smile. Waking up her screen and getting back to her assignment, except she couldn’t get the man out of her head. 

The dimples were something she focused on when he smiled, telling her it was no problem. Then his green eyes were so beautiful she felt she had seen them before. Though she could swear she had never met him before. She did have a weird feeling she had seen him before. Once it hit eight o’clock, Y/N knew it was time to call it. Y/N had her rough draft ready and could continue tomorrow. For now, she’d walk home and take a bath to wash away today’s day. 

Y/N was packing up and could see the green-eyed gentleman was too. She would hate herself if she didn’t ask him where she knew him from, if she knew him. Y/N had her bag strapped on her shoulder and turned to him for the last time. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

He turned, as if he was waiting to hear from her. “Yes?” 

“How do I know you?” 

The man’s smile dropped. He looked confused, so she didn’t know him. 

“Don’t think we’ve met, until today, Y/N.”

Y/N’s frown deepens. “I didn’t tell you my name.”

He pointed to her bag. She looks down at the red stitching displaying her name. Well, now she looked dumb. Of course, he could read. “You look familiar to me. Sorry if that’s weird.”

The guy clears his throat, shaking his head. “I get that a lot.” 

That’s odd, Y/N thought. 

“I feel like I know you,” she tried one last time. 

“Promise we don’t know each other. I would remember someone as beautiful as you.” 

Y/N’s jaw dropped (not literally), but her face felt warm. Fuck, she was not expecting this turn of event. “Ha, uh. I want to say me too, but uh, there’s something familiar about you.” 

Harry chuckles as if he knows something she doesn’t. 

“Can I walk you out?” He asks. 

She nods. He leaves a large tip and follows her to the exit. Y/N ways to Sonia, who shoots her thumbs up, but Y/N has no idea why. Y/N and the man linger outside the door, waiting to see who makes the first move. 

“Well, uh, can I have your Instagram?” Y/N asks, not knowing if asking for his number was too forward. At least this way she could stalk him for a bit. 

“Oh, I don’t use that. I can give you my number,” he counters. 

Y/N perks up. “That works.” She hands him her phone where she watches his hands type in his phone number into her contacts. He hands her back her phone, and she looks at the newly added contact. 

Harry S. 

It seemed that’s all she needed for her to connect the dots. She lifts her head up and Harry has a flushed face. He didn’t look away from her, almost waiting to see what she’d say. 

Y/N not sure how to break the silence. “Harry Sanchez?” 

Harry laughs, and it’s all the confirmation Y/N needs. “More like Styles.” 

“Oh.” 

Did she fuck up her chances? She feels like she didn’t. She got his number. 

“What can I use your number for?” She asks, wanting to double check. He still wants her to have it.

“Hopefully for us to plan a date.” 

“Even after this,” she points between them as if to explain what they know just happened. 

“I’d like to see where it could go.” 

“Shit, uh. Well–I’m free Thursday.” Harry smirks, making her want to crawl in a hole because now she feels desperate. “I’m going to leave.”

Harry stops her by grabbing her hand. “I think Thursday is perfect. Are you up for a sunset dinner by the beach?” 

“Sounds perfect,” she promised him. 

“Good. Thursday it is.”

Now she is standing in front of his childhood home, about to meet his mother and older sister. Y/N had spoken to his mother, Anne, on the phone a few times, but his sister was always busy when Harry tried to pass her the phone. Harry promised her it would go well, but she feared the worst. Their story was genuine but to others could sound fabricated but come on, no one knows Martha’s cakes, it’s not even on Yelp. It’s a place once stumbled upon and then shares the magic with people in their life. 

Harry said he felt like coffee and walked for a while until he saw people walk out. The smell of coffee is what drew him in, but the pretty girl he sat next to had him stay for hours. It’s something he shared months down the line. Y/N and Harry had now been together for nine months. Because of her Master’s Y/N had no time to travel. Harry visited home often, but Y/N couldn’t drop everything she was doing to go with him. He understood, but she felt his family wouldn’t. Harry met her dad and twin brothers six months into dating because they lived down in San Diego, only a two-hour drive from them. While Harry’s family lived an ocean away and she refused for him to pay for her flight to London. On top of that, she had classes and exams to worry about that did not allow her to hop on a flight for a week. Thankfully, she made it through the winter semester and had a few weeks off from her internship before going back for her last semester. Y/N knew graduation was just around the corner, and thankfully, had little debt to pay off.

Harry held her tight as he led her up the steps. Y/N was walking slower, trying to prolong the introduction. In her mind, she hoped she was simply psyching herself out and that things actually went well with Harry’s family. That they accepted her because they could see how much she loved him. 

“You ready, Lovie?” Harry flashed her a dimpled grin.

Truthfully, she wanted to say no, but Y/N couldn’t do that to him. Not when he was bouncing with excitement. “Ready.” She confirmed. 

Harry gave two loud knocks and then opened the front door. Y/N stood behind him as he rushed to embrace his mother. Anne was a sweet woman, much shorter than Harry, but by the tight embrace she held Harry, Y/N could tell she was strong. 

Anne gave Harry two big kisses, one on each cheek, before turning her attention to Y/N. 

“Y/N!” Anne cheered. She said it with so much delight, it surprised Y/N. 

In a matter of seconds, someone tightly wrapped Y/N in a hug, which she quickly reciprocated. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Twist.” 

Anne waved her off. “Call me Anne, my dear.” 

“Anne,” Y/N repeated.

“Now come in and tell me all about the trip. Did he trick you into going to that fancy lounge where you get free food?” Y/N giggled because Harry indeed took her to a fancy lounge when he said he was taking her to get a smoothie. 

Y/N spared a smile at Harry, but it was quick to fall when Y/N met another pair of eyes in the kitchen, looking at her with an intense stare. It dropped quickly because her attention shifted to Harry. Y/N focused back on Anne, trying to brush off the moment as something she imagined. 

Y/N tried her best to ignore the pit forming in her stomach. There was no need to worry. Harry talked about wonderful things about his family. She was in safe hands. At least that’s what she kept reminding herself.

+

Y/N didn’t feel welcome. Anne was a gem, but Gemma was cold and looked bored whenever Y/N said a word. Y/N wondered if Harry picked up on it. He hadn’t said a word. Harry was home and had no time to deal with Y/N’s insecurities. She had to be reading into Gemma, not liking her. Harry spoke the world of his older sister. He said she was his best friend, someone whose opinion he valued. Fear struck her. If Gemma didn’t like her after this visit, she knew that as soon as she got on that plane to go home, Harry would be breaking up with her. At least she’d had several hours to cry about on the plane pathetically.  

“There’s no way she didn’t know who you were,” Gemma scoffed, unbelieving of their story. 

Harry brushed off her comment as if she said nothing. “Gem, I was bald.” 

“Your face didn’t change.”

Harry sighs, “no, but you did a double take when I showed up to your doorstep to show you.” 

Gemma frowns, knowing he was right. “Whatever, you were all over twitter.” 

Harry is beginning to pick up on his sister’s defense and knows to drop it but will be picking it up with her later. “Anyway. Sitting next to each other, she asked me to watch her stuff when she had to use the restroom.”

“To look you up,” Gemma coughs.

Y/N fidgets in her chair, wanting to be anywhere but here. Harry continues with his story. “She thanked me and went back to her work. Before she left, Y/N asked if we knew each other, but I told her we didn’t. I wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as her.” 

“Charming,” Anne gloats. “My charming boy.” 

Harry finished the story, stating it was meant to be. He had loved spending the time in Los Angeles getting to see the city through Y/N’s eyes. It’s a city she’s been living in for a couple of years. There was a lot for her to share with him. Harry had taken a liking to her favorite coffee shop. It had a design resembling a greenhouse and filled with plants, mainly featuring dried lavender. Truthfully, he spent a lot of time there because it was Y/N’s preferred place to study because it never got busy. Y/N called it her hidden gem. 

“I’ve never been happier,” Harry shares. Y/N beams at his words but can’t help glancing at Gemma, who can’t help but look sick to her stomach at hearing this news.

Dinner passed dreadfully slowly. Y/N comments when she needs to but honestly hopes to disappear for the night soon, no longer wanting to burden Gemma with her presence. While Anne showed Y/N where she could freshen up, Harry stayed downstairs to share a nightcap with his sister. 

Anne comes back to join them, but Gemma bites her tongue until their mother bids them goodnight. Harry gives his mother a tight embrace, commenting on how much he missed her. Gemma was happy her younger brother was home. 

“Are you happy, Harry?” Gemma breaks the silence that had fallen between them.

Harry sighs, “never been happier.” 

Gemma frowns, because she believes him. “I-I-nevermind.” 

Harry frowns because Gemma is never someone to stop herself from saying what’s on her mind. “Hey,” he places his hand on top of hers. “It’s me. Your annoying younger brother, you can tell me anything.” 

She removes her hand from under his and places them on her lap. “I don’t think she’s right for you.”

Harry sits back, surprised. “Sorry?”

“It’s clear she’s after something.” 

He’s having a hard time believing his sister. “Like what?”

“Your money.” 

“Is that all I’m good for?” He asks, baffled. 

“No. That’s why I’m telling you. She’s after one thing.” 

“How would you know?”

“Come on,” Gemma scoffs. “She goes to a prestigious school with a cost that no one could afford. It’s clear she wants you to pay for it.” 

“Gemma, I met her during her last year.”

“Debt doesn’t go away overnight,” she fights back. “She’ll get you to pay off her loans and leave you.”

Harry’s anger is overwhelming him. 

“You don’t even know her. Yet you say bad things about her.” It shuts Gemma up, and he uses that to his advantage and walks away.

“We saw the donation you made,” Gemma comments before he can make it up the stairs. 

He turns back, trying his best to swallow down his anger. “If you would have asked me, you would know it’s for the music program. I did that for several universities if you would have taken the time to do a bit more research. It grants them a scholarship, plus pays for room and board.” 

Gemma has no response. Harry is now standing in front of her and Gemma is nervous. She had never seen her brother this upset. 

“What I do with my money is my problem. If she wanted me to send her money for a new car, I would. If she wanted me to buy her a piece of land, I would do it in a blink of an eye. If Y/N asked me to give her every last dime in my account, I would do it without a second thought because I love her. I love her and she loves me. You know, five minutes is not enough to judge her. I do not have to tell you of her financial issues, but I will so you can go home tonight and sleep knowing how upset I am with you. Y/N received the presidential scholarship covering her tuition for the three years she was there. Y/N has applied to hundreds of scholarships to cover her book fees, and has to take on an unpaid internship while working 40 hours a week to cover her rent. Y/N has not accepted a single dime from me for her school because she has gotten this far without me. Y/N only lets me pay for her seven dollar coffee every other day. Y/N would rather give every last dollar to me if I needed it instead of keeping it for herself. Y/N still sends money to her twin brothers for new shoes, or new backpacks, because she loves her family.” 

Harry is near tears but keeps going. “I love Y/N. You might not, maybe you never will, but that girl has been the best thing to happen to me. I’ve never been more cared for and loved since she entered my life. So please, don’t bother coming back tomorrow or the rest of the week unless you have an apology for her.”

Y/N is grateful Harry’s room connects to the bathroom because, while she finished getting ready, she thought she would ask Harry for a cup of water and instead stumbled upon a conversation she shouldn’t have. Y/N tries her best to swallow her tears, but it’s no use. They’re more powerful than her. They stream down and Y/N decides to lie in bed, hoping by the time Harry comes in, she’s fast asleep. Y/N isn’t sure how much time has passed, but her tears have dried up and she’s as still as a rock when she hears Harry come in. She wants to tell him that she’s not worth defending if it means he’s messing up his relationship with his sister.

She hears him get ready for bed. Y/N knows he’s folding his clothes and placing them on the chair. He’s meticulous about his night-time routine. He crawls into bed next to her. Y/N tries her best to steal her breathing to make it seem like she’s sleeping, but Harry knows her too well. He scoots right behind her, his hand sliding over her hips and settling on her stomach, right by the scar she got on her eight birthday when she fell off her bike. Harry rubs the lifted skin, where she got four stitches. 

Y/N lets out a deep breath, working up the courage to say something, but her throat is closed. She relaxes against him. All her tears dried up. She is beginning to feel better now that she’s with him. A kiss to her temple has her heart slowing down. This is what it is to be protected. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N croaks out when she feels like enough time has passed. 

Harry pulls her tight against him. It fills her with ease. “How much did you hear?”

Y/N shakes her head. “I don’t want you to argue with your family.” 

“It’s only my sister,” he defends.

“She’s an important person in your life. You’ve always specified that.” 

Harry sighs. He leaves a kiss behind Y/N’s ear. “You are important to me, too.”

“You don’t need to be fighting. It’s not necessary.” 

“It is when she needs a wack to her head.” 

“Harry,” Y/N drags out. “I don’t want you burning bridges.”

Harry understood where she was coming from, but Y/N was not seeing how it affected him as well. “We’ll be fine. She’s my sister. We’ll talk in a few days. All this will be in the past.”

Y/N freezes, feeling as if someone dropped a cold bucket of water on her. If Harry believes everything will be alright with his sister, that means he sees himself forgiving her for what she said but also means he would be getting rid of the problem. Her. 

Harry was going to be breaking up with her. This started her tears to fall again, only this time she couldn’t keep quiet. They were pouring out of her at a quick rate. He was quick to sit up bringing Y/N with him.

“Hey, hey,” Harry cooed. “What happened? What did I do?”

“Y-y-you,” she stuttered. Nothing was coming out. 

He would not rush her. Instead, he shifted her to straddle his lap. Y/N tucked her head into his neck. Hary felt his neck dampen with tears. He pressed soft kisses to her hair, whispering “I love you,” hoping it would be enough to calm her. He snaked a hand under her night shirt softly running his nails up and down her back. Y/N curled in closer at the action. His sweet girl was feeling overwhelmed, and he felt awful because he wasn’t being helpful. 

Y/N pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry still thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hands moved from her side up to his neck, she settled them on his cheek. She caressed his face, calming him down. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he was, but it’s clear Y/N could see what he needed even in her moments of sadness. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N voiced. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Harry frowned. No one had said anything about him leaving. He would never dream of walking away from her. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“But Gemma–”

He cuts her off. “Gemma doesn’t know you like I do. She is looking out for me and I know she meant no harm, but she went about all this wrong. She decided to judge us, judge you before getting to know you.”

Y/N did no wrong. She was nothing Gemma accused her of. Y/N knew that, of course she did, but Y/N hoped to impress his family, not make them upset. 

“I know you, Lovie. My mum knows you. Mostly, you know yourself. Your character speaks for you and it has never been anything but kind and loving.”

Harry’s words slowly begin to mend her heart.

“I love you, Harry.” 

He connects his lips with hers in a loving kiss. “I love you so much.” 

Y/N falls asleep to Harry’s voice as he sings her to sleep. It’s a lullaby he says his mum would sing when he had a nightmare. While Y/N didn’t know how tomorrow would go, she was happy to have Harry at her side.

+

The morning passed slowly between the three of them. They shared stories with Anne, Harry, catching her up on his upcoming plans. Y/N talked about her looming graduation and told Anne about her thesis project. Anne promised to make the trip for her graduation, something Harry couldn’t stop gloating about how she was top of her class on her way to graduate summa cum laude. Y/N had stepped outside wanting to enjoy all the open land Anne had. The cats happily roamed around Y/N as she settled in the grass. Y/N thought of her dad at home and what he’d have to say about the situation. He’d probably tell her to run while she could, but Y/N knew Harry was her person. Y/N laid down, closed her eyes and took in all the surrounding noise. She heard birds chirping, a purring in the distance and the rush of the wind hitting the wind chimes. It was perfect. 

There was a loud band that had Y/N sitting up in a hurry. She looked back and realized it was the back door. Anne had stepped out, Y/N could see Harry in the kitchen, hands moving rapidly, and she knew he wasn’t alone. Anne sat not to Y/N, neither of them saying a word. 

“My daughter owes you an apology.” 

“Anne–” 

She stops Y/N. “No, I raised her better than that. I’m not sure when she got so protective, but it’s clearly not for the best. Harry is nearing 30 he doesn’t need his sister looking out for him. While I’m glad they have each other, this was unnecessary. It caused a lot of hurt that should have never existed.” 

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to talk to her if you’re not comfortable.”

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She dreaded talking to Gemma, but Y/N knew she’d feel worse if she went home and never talked this out with her. “I’m willing. I-I might need time to forgive her.” 

Anne squeezed Y/N’s hand. “That’s perfectly alright. Now tell me about these brothers of yours.” 

Y/N spent the rest of the evening with Anne, forgetting about her problems. It isn’t until Harry called them both in for dinner that they realized they spent hours outside. 

Harry greeted her with a kiss.

Dinner went off without a hitch, the three of them sharing all kinds of stories. Mostly Harry interrupting Anne to tell her a new story about Y/N he remembered. Harry that night promised he was alright with Gemma. He was feeling hurt. Assured her he loved her, but needed time to move past it. 

Y/N woke up early the next morning and decided to go on a walk along the river. Harry told her it felt never ending. They had walked it once every day, but today she went alone, letting Harry sleep in but also have that extra time with Anne. As Y/N walked, she thought of her brothers and how they would love to be throwing rocks in the river. Y/N was sure one of them would even fall in on accident. The weather would pique her dad’s interest. He was a sunshine man. She was sure the gloomy weather would be too much for him to handle. 

Two hours later, Y/N came back and was taken aback by Gemma’s presence on the front steps of the house, holding a thermal mug. 

“Hi,” Y/N greeted. 

“Morning, nice walk?” Gemma asked. 

Small talk. It was safe. “Mhm, Harry showed me the trail he liked to walk on.” 

“Mmm…coffee?” Gemma offered.

“Uh, I’m okay,” Y/N rejected.

Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”

Y/N nodded. “Sure.” 

Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words. 

“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”

Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.

“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her. 

Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”

“That hasn’t been him for a long time.” 

“I know.”

It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready. 

“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.” 

Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.” 

“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.” 

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully. 

Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.” 

“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.” 

Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” 

Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”

Y/N nodded. “Sure.” 

Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words. 

“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”

Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.

“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her. 

Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”

“That hasn’t been him for a long time.” 

“I know.”

It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready. 

“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.” 

Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.” 

“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.” 

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully. 

Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.” 

“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.” 

Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” 

“Hi, Harry. I love you.” 

Y/N knows he’s grinning. “I love you too. Even if you left me alone this morning.” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she defends. “You always told me a morning walk here cleared your head.” 

“And did it?” 

“Mmm…like magic.” 

“Are you okay, Lovie?” Harry turns off the stove. He turns around, setting his hands on Y/N’s waist. His hair makes her laugh as she sees it sticking in different directions. 

“We talked. She apologized. Promise I’m okay. It still hurts, but I’ll try my best to forgive her for you.” 

Harry tuts his tongue. “No, honey.” Y/N tilts her head, confused. “You don’t have to do this for me.” 

“But she’s your–”

“She’s my sister, but that doesn’t mean you have to change how you feel about me. I promise I am with you. She made a mistake, and I’ll forgive her but at my own time. You take your time as well.”

Y/N feels overwhelmed all over again because she really did get lucky with Harry. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my love. So much more.” 

Harry gives her a kiss. A promise that everything will be alright.

+

thank you for reading my beautiful friends! let me know your favorite parts

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

[justmeinadaze]

What about a girl who on the surface seems to be happy. She's the one that is always there for people no matter what. Yet no one is there for her when she really needs someone. In a dark day where she thinks if she leaves the world no ones life would really change because she never really meant anything to other people. But Eddie finds her in a really bad state and somehow talks to her down and slowly overtime helps her feel wanted and loved. Shows her she's not alone.

A/N: I pushing this request and another someone gave me together because they were very similar. I get this to the core of my being and please never forget you aren't alone <3. You matter and the world is 100 time better because you're in it.

Warnings: Heavy material, mentions of emotional pain and depression especially feeling like no one cares and feeling like a burden. Enter with caution. I imagine a lot of us here have felt this at least at one point in our life.

Word Count: 2476

Everything is loud. 

Especially that voice that tells you no one cares.  Yeah you have your friends but they have their partners and their families. Yeah you have work but that’s all it is…work. The people you help are there for just that. As soon as you leave their peripherals it’s like you no longer exist. You have your family but it always feels like they are looking for number one…themselves. You’ve done everything for so many people and yet it feels like no one would do the same for you. 

It's not like you expect anyone to. You do things for people because you genuinely want to. Sometimes, however, it would just to be nice to feel like you were someone else’s first choice… 

Someone who woke up and was excited because they knew they were going to get to spend their day with you. Someone who while out in the world saw something random and their first thought was to call you to tell you. Someone who when you needed something whether it be to laugh or shoulder to cry on wouldn’t hesitate to be there. Someone who asked about your day because they were genuinely curious and not because they needed something. Someone who loved you unconditionally because you’re you.

It was a slow build up to tonight.

It starts with the little voice throughout your day telling you that no one would care. They’ll all move on after you’re gone. How long would it even take for someone to notice? No one calls unless they need something and you’re always the one to text first. You initiate meet ups with your friends and even then it’s hard to get everyone together. You fade in the background at work unless your boss needs someone to belittle. 

You haven’t seen your family face to face in so long. They always say their busy or their schedules are tight. Sometimes you call just to talk to your parents and no one answers. 

You had tried dating but most people you met up with just wanted sex. Anytime you tried finding a genuine connection, it was met with an innuendo that made your eyes roll. 

Today was particularly hard. Your account was overdrawn and you didn’t know how you were going to make it to the next check. Your boss said you seemed distracted and that you need to get your numbers to a better place or else you’d get a write up that could lead to a termination. You called your sister during your break but she didn’t answer instead posting online a selfie with her and her friends at lunch. You messaged a friend with a joke hoping to start a conversation about your worries without coming off like a bother. 

“I’m so exhausted. I wish I could meet a millionaire so I don’t have to work anymore lol”

She responded with a simple laughing emoji. 

You laid in bed scrolling through your phone at all the happy photos of people with their partners, other friends, and or children. They all seemed genuinely happy…why couldn’t you? You were really good at playing content but it took every ounce of energy you had. You didn’t want to pretend anymore. 

You wanted to place the weight of everything down for even just one day of relief while someone took you in their arms and told you that you were safe. 

The voice was practically screaming now in your head that you would never get that relief. The only way to end the pain is to remove yourself entirely from the equation. 

Your logic brain knew it didn’t want that but you didn’t know how to turn it off. 

Opening your front door, you ran outside in the rain in no particular direction hoping that you would end up wherever you were meant to be. You don’t know how long you were on your feet but suddenly you were swept off them as you fell forward into the mud beneath you. 

You heard a faint voice but it was hard to understand under the wind and thunder that shook the sky. A leather jacket covered your arms before you were lifted by your biceps and carried into a home nearby. 

“Jesus, sweetheart. Are you insane? You’re going to get yourself killed walking out there in this weather.”, the boy scolded as he shook his hair like a dog and took off the shirt he was wearing without any hesitation. “Fuck. Here let me take that here.” Grabbing his jacket, he rung it out in the kitchen and hung it on the counter. 

You watched him with wide eyes as he moved around what you realized was a trailer with purpose. 

“Alright, here’s a towel. Do you need to use my phone to call someone or—” The towel he handed you promptly feel to the floor when you didn’t reach out to take it from him, giving him pause as you both stared at it on the ground. 

His bare feet scooted against the rug as he placed himself in front of you and bent down to grab the towel again. You could feel his eyes scanning over you and when you glanced up to meet them you noticed they know reflected concern. 

“You know what? I’m being rude. I haven’t even introduced myself and I just pulled you into my humble abode.” With a big tooth filled grin, he extended his arms out wide and bowed. “My name is Eddie Munson and you are…?” He waits but when you don’t respond, he nonchalantly shakes his head as he stands to his full height again. “No worries. You can tell me when you’re ready. Um, I don’t think a towel will be enough and since it’s still storming you are more than welcome to use our shower. I have some fresh clothes you can change into and we can wash the mud off your outfit. If you want, of course. No pressure.”

“O-Ok.”

One of his eyebrows quirks at the sound of your voice before he flashes you another soft smile.

“Ok? Cool.”

***

When you step out of the shower, you can’t help but feel more relaxed under the steam that filled the bathroom. Eddie’s cigarette smelling clothes added an extra layer of comfort as they hung off your small frame. Glancing at the items on the sink, you smiled at the aftershave and hair product that lingered. Picking up his cologne, your smile grew as you inhale the smell that could best be described as home. You could get lost in that smell…

Continuing to dry your hair as you headed towards his room, you found the metalhead shoveling arms full of clothes that were on his floor into the closet. 

“Oh, uh, hey. Sorry. Yeah…my room isn’t usually this messy but…”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

His face visibly scrunched in confusion as he took a seat on the edge of his bed. 

“What makes you think you ruined my night?”

“I just…kind of…appeared.”

“Nice, pretty girl like you shows up on my doorstep. Introverts dream right there, honey.”, he chuckles as you blush. “Naw, you didn’t ruin my night. I was just going to lay here, smoke some weed and listen to some music. Would, um, would you like to join me?”

You think for a moment as your eyes take him in. Eddie had changed out of his wet clothes and put on a long sleeve shirt with some shorts that reached past his knees. His hair had begun to dry and frizz in an adorable manner that had butterflies flutter in your tummy. 

“Ok.”

“Yeah? Cool.”

“Y/N.” As he slides down to the floor, his head tilts when he hears you speak. “That’s my name.”

Grinning, he reaches under his bedside table and pulls out a little box with a couple of joints pre rolled within. 

“That’s very beautiful. So Y/N, is there a particular genre I should stay away from or are you openminded with music?”

“I’d like to think I’m pretty open minded.”

Eddie lights the end of the paper between his lips and his chest moves with every inhale and exhale before passing it to you. The effects are immediate as you feel calmness wash over you, handing it to him before laying on your back beside him. 

While you continue to listen to the music that plays neither of you says a word as you pass the joint freely between each other. The most recent song ends and a guitar rift begins to play that you feel like you’ve heard before. When you turn to look his way, your eyes lock with his earnest ones as if he’s waiting for you to recognize it. 

When the singer begins to sing the lyrics, your eyes close as you grab your stomach and laugh harder than you felt like you ever had before. Watching the way your personality unfolded has Eddie cackling with you until you were finally able to catch your breath. 

“Is that a fucking rock version of Lil Wayne’s ‘Lollipop’?! Oh my god it sounds amazing.”

“I have this weird fascination with rap songs turned into metal covers. It just tickles my funny bone the right way.”

“I love it.”

“And I love your laugh. It’s infectious.”

Glancing his way, you softly smile as you pass him the last of the bud in your hand for him to finish. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s nice to see you smile. You seemed a bit sad when you came in.”

“Yeah…we don’t have to talk about it though.”

“Do you not WANT to talk about it?”

“No, I just…you don’t wanna hear all that heavy stuff.”, you sigh as you sit up and lean against his dresser. 

“I mean I want to hear more about you, Y/N, and if that ‘heavy stuff’ is a part of you than I wanna hear it.”, he responds as he sits up as well. 

“You don’t know me, Eddie.”

“I’m trying to, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to know? Like I said you don’t know me. Why do you care?”

“I care because I want to know why a gorgeous, seemingly kind woman like you was walking out alone at night during a thunderstorm. Whatever caused her to do that must be really hurting her and I know how much that sucks. I want to help…if I can.”

Your eyes take him in as he pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them to hold them in place. It was so odd to feel safe with someone you didn’t know. You weren’t sure if it was his smooth voice, the intense yet soft hues of his own eyes, or the protective concerned energy that surrounded him but you decided to take a leap and let go.

“When I get lonely…sometimes the voices in my head…get too loud. Not like you know voices, voices but just like that little voice…that makes the world…seem hopeless.”

“Like…no one cares about you to put you first and maybe the world would somehow be better without you in it?” When your gaze shifts his way, you find his have moved to the void in the floor in front him. “Yeah, I know how that feels especially when you hear it being reiterated with that voice.”

“It’s like an extra weight is pushing down on me and I can’t breathe.”

“You just want someone to take off some of that slack and tell you everything is going to be ok. And not because they want something or because they feel like they have to but because they genuinely want to.”

As you nod, you hastily try to dry the tears that fall before he notices.

“Y/N? I promise everything is going to be ok.” When Eddie slid closer to you, you couldn’t stop yourself as you climbed into his lap and curled into his broad chest as his arms circled around you. “You’re safe and the world is 1000 times better because you’re here.”

He continued to coo softly that everything was ok, rocking you gently in his arms as you continued to cry. 

################

Six Months Later

You beam as you hold Eddie’s hand at the table with your friend and her date as you wait for your food to served. 

“Hey, you know what would be fun? Maybe after we eat, we can head over to Scoops and try that new peanut flavor they have.”

“Oh, yeah!”, your friend exclaims with bright eyes. “I heard it’s so delicious.”

“I mean ice cream sounds great but Y/N can’t have that flavor. She’s allergic remember?”, your boyfriend replies nonchalantly as he quietly thanks the waiter as he places plates down in front of everybody. Without skipping a beat, Eddie opens your burger and steals your pickles he knows you give him every time before wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he eats with his free hand. 

Since that first night you met him, everything came almost easy with Eddie. For the first time, you felt heard and understood. Those first couple of months, you half expected him to disappear but every day he showed up with the same enthusiasm that made your heart want to explode. 

The first time you two fought, he realized it was because you were afraid to be open. 

“Sweetheart, how am I supposed to know it bothers you if you don’t tell me?”

“I just…I don’t want to lose you. I like you a lot, Eddie, and I’m afraid—”

“To be yourself? Baby, I like you a lot to. YOU… not some image of you. Don’t make yourself unhappy to make me happy. I don’t want that.”

From that moment on, you did everything you could to express how you felt and every time he tried to meet you in the middle. Every bad day, you were there for each other no questions asked. Every good day, you relished especially the small moments where you two would just lay on the floor and listen to music enjoying each other’s company without feeling like he’d rather be somewhere else. 

You were his first choice and he was yours. 

“How about we go to the arcade? They have that ice cream shop next door and then we can play some pool.”, you suggest knowing Eddie can smoke while you guys play as the music you both like plays. 

“That sounds like fun.”, your friend grins. “I’m not good with pool but I know Adam likes to show off.”

“So does Ed.”, you giggle. 

“Pfft, like you don’t like watching me bend over the table when I shoot my shot.”, he teases as he throws a wink your way before kissing your forehead.

##############

Eddie Asks/ Donate to me :)

Just in case y'all wanted to hear the song :P

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Curtis

Summary: Curtis decides to take the next step and ask if you're willing to meet offline.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Meeting someone from online, Mentions of past bad experiences. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 1

Series Masterlist

It's 2 o'clock and you're at the library. Your friend, Cassandra, works the reference desk here so she's holding onto your computer, and you'll have an escape if things with Snowpiercer/Curtis go south. You've also packed your mace and Cassandra was nice enough to let you park in her usual spot in the library lot so you could sneak out the back if needed.

Part of you feels ridiculous for being so cautious about someone you've been talking to online for a couple years now, but you can't let go of the "what if". You're genuinely hoping it goes well, you really are, but it never hurts to be careful. Especially after last time.

You shake your head. No, you're not going to think about Chase again. He doesn't deserve the time and energy involved in thinking about him. And already Curtis was showing himself to be not like him. He suggested going to a public space for a first meeting. He didn't pressure you to say "yes" to this meeting. And he didn't argue with you, at all, about the time and place.

He also didn't argue when you asked him to send a photo of himself without sending one of yourself to him. You're fairly certain the photo is really him, but those eyes look too beautiful to not be touched up a bit. At least the rest of him lined up with things he'd told you about himself previously. Pierced lip, beard, buzzcut. Maybe the lighting just really highlighted the eyes.

Curtis had arrived at the cafe a half hour early. He'd parked as close as he could in case he needed to take the computer home. He was hopeful he could fix it here with his laptop, but it would be nice to have an excuse to meet you again.

He was worried you wouldn't show up at all. He tried to acquiesce to your requirements for meeting up but that doesn't guarantee you'll be here. For all he knows, he's the one being catfished. But with how long the two of you have been talking, the gradual building of trust on both sides, he's hopeful. He's not usually the type to give in to hope, but you changed that.

Curtis can't help but continue looking around as people come and go, wondering if one of them is you. You'd told him you'd be wearing your scrubs but maybe you were scouting him out first, making sure he was who he said he was. You'd told him that you'd had bad experiences meeting in person before. It was a big part of why he was going so far out of his way to accommodate your requests. He'd had to clock out of work early, though it also saved him from having to argue with Bucky about the legacy code. He'd driven all the way across town to the main branch of the library. He just really wanted this all to go well.

A beautiful woman in scrubs walks up to the counter and orders a drink. Curtis wants to go up and ask if it's you but he stays put. He doesn't need you to walk in on him trying to talk to someone else. His knee starts bouncing because of his nerves. The woman gets her coffee and walks over to his table.

"Hello, Curtis," you say.

"Hello, Heart," he smiles.

Part 1

Series Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[kai-anderson-whore]

Ghost boy (Tate langdon x fem reader smut) kinktober fic 6

Summary: you and your friends go to the abandoned murder house, where you met Tate

Warnings: smut, sex against a wall, sex with a ghost, teasing, clit stimulation somewhat public sex (since it’s a abandoned house 🤷‍♀️)

Word count: 1,5k

A/n: this was shit and the ending was so rushed, I’m so behind on this so I might not post the full ten fics but if I do they may be some after Halloween

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You heard all the rumours about the infamous murder house, how it's haunted, people who step foot there get killed, how the ghosts that live there aren't really ghosts they're just like humans only cold 'bullshit' you thought. You were always a sceptic about all that paranormal stuff, never believed in it one bit.

So when your friends came up with the idea of visiting the murder house you were more than willing to go and see. You wanted to prove your friends wrong, there was no such thing as ghosts. Now outside the old run down building, wooden barriers barricaded the windows except for one on the side of the house.

"So we going in or what" you spoke up unfazed by the eerie sight of the abandoned house. Your friends on the other hand looked if so they already regretted coming here. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, I mean have you heard the stories y/n, once you go in there's a high chance you never get out to tell the tale" your friend Chelsea's scared tone making you chuckle.

"Yeah and that's what it is a tale, it's just to scare kids from going in here and get drunk, all bullshit" you laughed climbing into the house. "What are you doing, are you crazy!?" Your other friend Oliver hissed. "Oh come on you two wanted to come here in the first place now your chickening out" you scoffed your leather jacket nearly getting caught on an overgrown branch connecting to the brick wall.

"Yeah it's fucking creepy" Oliver admitted you just laughed once again one of your legs on the ledge of the old window, the other inside the house barely touching the ground. "Fine I'm going in, I bet I'll make it out alive" you mocked dismissing them and jumping fully into the old house.

You heard their pleas for you to come back, never did you listen once you got something on your mind you do it. Going further into what you expect to be the dinning room, nothing was really out of place like someone had been living here. Dust was collecting on some parts of the house, no graffiti on the walls or smashed glass like other places you been to 'weird?'.

Nothing really sparked your interests downstairs, deciding to take your attention upstairs. Searching room to room all you found were some old photos of the Harmon family that lived here. Entering another room all dark 'this is probably a boys room' you thought to yourself looking around the room.

Spotting a record collection mostly grunge and rock music nirvana, Alice and the chains, hole and some artists who inspired the grunge scene. "Good taste" you hummed to yourself out loud. "Thanks" a voice chimed making out yelp in fright, clutching your chest.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You snapped turning your head to find a boy with blonde hair with a amused smile and arms folded over his chest. "Didn't mean to scare you" he defended holding his hands up. "Who are you?" You asked not feeling scared anymore. You couldn't help but find this mysterious guy attractive he wore a knitted sweater with baggy jeans and converse.

"I'm Tate, I live here" he shrugged.

"What you live in a abandoned house yeah right" you scoffed not believing it. "I'm a ghost so yeah I live here" he says in a serious tone. "Sure and I'm the pope, did Chelsea and Oliver set you up for this, if they did nice try" you laughed which only made Tate a little bit frustrated.

"No" Tate unfolds his arms taking a step towards you. "Okay Tate prove your a ghost" you challenged standing from your kneeled position. "Why would I need to prove I'm dead" he scoffed rolling his eyes. "Because your not dead, but you are kinda cute" you smirked, Tate couldn't help but blush at your compliment. "Well thanks I guess, not so bad yourself if I may add" he returned his voice somewhat dulcet but a smirk always playing on his lips.

"Thanks Casper" you smiled biting your bottom lip. Standing up from your kneeled position. Leaving the room exploring more parts of the house. "You know shouldn't really be here alone" Tate speaks up you turn your head, raising an eyebrow. "And why's that Casper?".

"Because you never know what's in here" he shrugs. You chuckled dismissively, "oh yeah the boogeyman is going to get me is is". Tate smirked at you he couldn't lie he thought you were beautiful, with your leather jacket, the way your hair would flow as the breeze of the house swished past you. He oddly felt nervous around you but wanted to be close to you.

You notice his nervousness, smirking to yourself. "Do I make you nervous Casper?".

"What no" he blushed.

"I do" you laughed stepping closer to him, you could practically feel how nervous he was, swallowing a lump in his throat. You smiled seductively at Tate standing in front of him, "maybe just a little" Tate chuckled blushing. A new wave of confidence washed over you, you couldn't deny he was extremely attractive even if it was weird that he was randomly in this abandoned house.

"And why do I make you nervous Casper?" You teasingly asked using your newfound nickname. Tate swallowed a lump in his throat "w-well your really pretty that's why" he mumbles. Now face to face with him. "Oh really I'm pretty?" You teased now playing with the hem of his flannel.

"Yeah" he chuckled, you couldn't deny your attraction to the boy. Now with the sudden wave of confidence you kissed him, feverishly. Tate's eyes blown wide at your sudden action, but responded to your lips nonetheless. Your hand cupped his cheek deepening the kiss.

A moan left your lips feeling Tate's hands on your body, he was cold but you assumed that it was because of the cold air in the abandoned house. Tate grew the confidence to pin you to the nearest wall you gasped feeling the cold wall come in contact with you.

A smirk crept on his lips, his hand on your waist now slowly creeping under your skirt, his thumb coming in contact with your clit, you let out another gasp and he rubbed you through your nearly soaked panties. You grew wetter by the second, your hand gripped his shoulder to steady yourself. "Your so wet" Tate chuckled retracing his hand from your underwear.

His lips attacked your neck leaving purple marks along your delicate skin. You sighed your hand cupped his bulged rubbing him through his jeans. Before unbuttoning the button. "Eager are we?" Tate chuckles. "Just fuck me" you sighed. Tate pulled down his jeans and underwear just enough for his cock to string free.

His hands on the backs on your thighs signalling your to jump, which you did. Your underwear moved to one side he lined himself up with your entrance teasingly. "Don't tease me" you whined. Tate chuckled slowly pushing himself into you. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure your grip on his shoulder tightened.

Tate bottomed out inside you before retracting his hips from you, thrusting in you. Moans slowly crept their way out your lips, he stretched you out perfectly. Your head resting on Tate's shoulder, "harder" you panted your body jolting with each thrust, "I don't think you deserve it yet" Tate grinned, you immediately felt frustrated with his disapproval of your request. "Please, please Casper, I need it please" you begged, Tate's thrusts got even more slower.

"You know that's not my name, say my name and I'll maybe consider it" Tate's voice was more deep and dominant, "I'm sorry Tate, please fuck me harder please tate" you pleaded. “Well since you asked so nicely” he smirked.

His hips thrusted into you in a much faster pace, you almost screamed out in pleasure and pain, it felt so good. Tates hips were erratic the pace they went you were sure he would split you in two. Your head resting on the wall behind you. Your legs pulling him closer.

You felt dangerously close to the edge, Tate could tell “you close?” He asked, you nodded your head humming in response. “Use your words” Tate coaxed, smirking wickedly. “I’m so close” you panted out. Feeling that knot form in your stomach.

“Let go baby” he whispered, you let go over his cock with a loud moan. Your nails digging into his flannel, your orgasm triggering his own release. He pulling out of you spilling his seed on your thigh. You panted trying to catch your breath.

Tate set your feet down on the floor, you fixed your underwear and skirt. “That was fun” Tate smirked tucking himself back into his pants . You smiled nodding “yeah I gotta go my friends are outside waiting on me” I giggled. “Oh okay maybe I’ll see you around?” He asked. “Sure I’ll see you around” you smiled Leaving Tate.

You made it outside seeing your friends by the gates of the abandoned house. “What took you so long we were about to send a search party out for you” Oliver says. “Keep your head on, I’m here now I just found some cool stuff that’s all” you smirked blushing a little. “Come on let’s go” Oliver sighed, the three of you walked away from the house you looked at a window seeing Tate. You smiled and waved as you walked away.

[spoopdeedoop]

hi i have some disorganized thoughts/hcs abt the found family human doctor au

(one of the thoughts being i should really give it a better name. another being YES this is only the nuwho doctors atm bc that's the only series i've watched so far apologies. if i ever get around to watching classic who i will add them trust)

BEHOLD my random, not at all in-depth headcanons

nine is the only one with a car out of all of them. they all keep bugging him to drive/pick them up from places -- he has mixed feelings about being the assigned taxi driver

both twelve and eleven are teachers -- college professor and preschool teacher respectively. twelve's students love them because he will say the most stupid, hilarious shit with a straight face without even knowing and eleven's students love him because he is the only teacher at the school that will dance with them during musical chairs (he doesn't even play the game. he just dances)

i want to make one of them an actual doctor but i don't think any of them could handle it unfortunately

they all share an an apartment flat on the same level -- nine, twelve and fifteen live in one room, ten, eleven and thirteen live in the one across from them. of course there are other people in the building too but they're all used to the strange loud hyperactivity of that particular flat. i think i'm using the right terminology here. yall know what im talking about

(i'm so tempted to make some companions be their neighbors)

nine and ten are the most insomniac of all of them, so they're used to bumping each other in the dead of night on their way to raid each other's respective fridges or something. very rarely thirteen will join them and they're like "WELL FANCY SEEING YOU HERE"

twelve does sleep, but like. he's nocturnal

eleven and ten hate each other in a sibling kind of way (see: day of the doctor). they are constantly sending each other death threats or tripping each other over. everyone is sick of it

sometimes when they're out shopping you'll hear ten yell "GET OUT OF THE FROZEN FOOD YOU NUMPTY WE ARE NOT BUYING FISH FINGERS" over the aisles and you'll hear eleven whine "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH" back

(if you're lucky you'll be able to catch fifteen mumble "why did we put them in the same apartment. are we asking for an eviction notice")

eventually eleven will pick a random stray cat off the side of the road, take her home, and name her bowtie, which is a stupid name, so everyone just defaults to calling her kitty

kitty's favourite person is twelve, to eleven's absolute despair

(my original idea for this was to initially have ten hate the idea of living with a cat, since he's stated full on in the show that he doesn't like cats, but apparently there is some very obscure doctor who comic run in which he falls into a depressive spiral and adopts a cat whom he names rose-the-cat, so he might actually like cats idk?)

anyway ten hates her until he doesn't lmao. he vents to her when there's no one else home and she will Stare at him back and it is a very nice friendship

kitty and nine watch shitty romcom together

they have a joint groupchat together -- half of it is just thirteen and fifteen assigning everyone outfits they find on pinterest and the other half is eleven asking where everyone went (he keeps getting lost when they go out)

nine doesn't know how to download pictures off the internet and so resorts to manually editing memes together to send to the groupchat and everyone's like "girl that's so much more effort........."

(yes he doesn't know how to press save image to camera roll but he knows how to use a photo editor flawlessly. such is the logic of the idiocy of the doctors)

eleven and thirteen get along very well i think. they're the only two of the group to play video games and so they bond over that. they also have ridiculously similar clothing taste

sometimes they'll succeed in getting fifteen to play pokemon with them and then they'll proceed to not see him until the next day when he comes out of his room and goes "you didn't tell me plusle couldn't evolve i've been levelling it up all fucking night"

friday is assigned movie night (it's always big hero 6)

eleven is the only one to actively seek out physical affection, usually really abruptly like clinging to thirteen's back as she passes him in the hall or bapping ten with the palm of his hand until he sighs and gives him a hug. he does expect a platonic kiss on the forehead from anyone before he goes to bed and will complain if he doesn't get one

anyway thats it i'm sick in the head and really sad. if this keeps up i may be forced to actually write a fic

[tteokdoroki]

✩࿐TRACK 02: ONOFFONOFF. eijirou kirishima (2K)

about. by day, kirishima fights crime to keep everyone he loves safe. by night, you’re fighting to keep your relationship alive, even while everything else is crumbling to pieces.

warnings. minors, ageless and ageless blogs do not interact! suggestive, angst, hurt-comfort, hopeful/open ending, toxic relationships, dry humping, civillain + fem!reader, pro hero!kirishima.

things to note. happy saturday homies, i hope you enjoy this second instalment !! i adore writing angst pieces so it was nice to go back to that, enjoy mwah ! <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / playlist ✩

how could anyone ever hate eijirou kirishima. 

by day, he’s everybody’s favourite pro hero. though number five on the ranks, red riot has a comforting charm that dazzles the public. fear dissipates almost instantly whenever he was on the scene, as if there was never anything to be afraid of in the first place. he is calm while he works, caring. holding crying babies to his plush chest as he breaks through burning buildings, pulling dazed strangers out of the way of speeding cars, taking out criminals with brute force and bright banter. 

he’s wonderful with kids as well, which by extension, makes kirishima popular with the parents — often using their starry eyed little ones for a chance to get close to the bulky hero. of course, your boyfriend doesn’t realise. he doesn’t take note of the lingering touches during touching family photos with him, numbers slipped into his hero costume or how people lean against kirishima desperate for a messy signature to be scrawled across inappropriate parts of their bodies. 

eijirou is too nice to say no, to set boundaries. he’s warm and friendly — the perfect aura of sunshine. in some ways, you can understand the way the world almost revolves around him. why all the people and their planets make him the centre of the universe. after all, it’s part of the reason you ended up dating him. 

but the press adore him too, they really do. their beloved red riot is always willing to stop for interviews even when he’s busted and beaten, they love the way he leans down (all 6’5 of him) to hear the reporters better. they eat up the way he blushes and bumbles humbly whenever he’s asked about the status of his relationship. to which he answers “i wouldn’t say there’s anyone in particular that’s in the picture right now…” while sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, accidentally showing off his bulging muscles and firm chest. 

how could you ever hate eijirou kirishima. 

by night, he’s supposed to be yours and only yours. but you can smell floral perfumes on his collarbones from fans that get too close and you can feel the distance grow between you like an invisible barrier.

you hate that kirishima lies about your relationship to the public just as a ‘precaution’ when it’s clearly a ploy from eijirou’s marketing team to keep him the lovable, single, himbo hero. you hate that it makes you want to push him away. 

it’s not just you and him in this partnership. it’s you, eijirou and the whole world that eagerly watches his every move — and it’s starting to make you feel like a third wheel, like less of a priority, like more of an accessory.

you don’t know when loving eijirou kirishima becomes difficult and starts to feel like a chore — in your mind, you’re under appreciated. he comes home from work, sleeps, and leaves before the sun rises without giving you an ounce of attention (aside from the money dropped into your bank account as an apology). the dates that you plan become less frequent too, or when they do happen, kirishima leaves halfway through with a lopsided sorrowful grin. 

“the world isn’t gonna save itself, yanno. someone’s got to be on the scene.”

you fill the void in your heart with your work, spending time with friends who don’t offer the same comfort as your long-term partner and lazing about the house. but being alone gives you the space to begin resenting kirishima, giving into the toxic comparisons of your relationship against that of others — todoroki and his girlfriend are getting married soon, why aren’t you and eiji?

it’s not like you haven’t brought this up before, over quiet dinners interjected with snide remarks — it only ever leads to screaming matches that end with your throat raw and kirishima slamming doors so loud that the house shakes. but brought back together by the toxic cycle of love, you end up back in his bed and he ends up back inside you — taking root in your ribcage right where your heart lies, the thorns on his roses piercing the beating muscle. 

you cough up perfumed petals like you would blood, kirishima leaving fatal wounds on the inside  of your chest cavity. 

it doesn’t stop the way you so brokenly make love, tearing one another apart and piecing you back together like patchwork. 

“careful.” your boyfriend mumbles through swollen lips as they press against your own. he lets your tongue slide into his hot mouth, your noses pressed up against each other — breath ragged. 

your hands reach for eijirou’s shirt to tear through it. each of your movements are calculated to replace what traces from others linger on him. you pull, bite and scratch at golden skin that is already littered with scars from his battles. those where he protected the country he loved, the people who loved him. “slowly…” kirishima ushers, you gently, tilting his head back when you tug on the black roots of his hair to gain access to his neck.

“d-darling, what’s the hurry?”

you love him so much that you think you might hate him even more. he’s so perfect, he doesn’t colour outside of the lines, he touches you like you’re a house made of cards even though his fingertips set your entire body on fire.

blood rushes through your ears, carrying a heat that blossoms in your lower tummy and intoxicates kirishima as you kiss him again — teeth sinking into his lower lip until it bleeds. 

“c-can we talk?” kirishima stutters out as your tongue glides under his earlobe next and your hips slot against his perfectly, grinding down into his hardening cock. “w-what’s going on? fuck,” he curses, hips bucking up instinctively. “what’s going on with you?” 

“nothing.” stop talking.

“darlin’, you’re being a little rough…” shut up.

“you usually like that.” you utter breathlessly, switching sides to leave marks on the unmarred portions of his neck. 

this time, however, the red head grips your hips a little tighter — halting your movements and pushing you back so he can get a better look at your face. “baby, let’s just—“ 

“what, kirishima?” finally, you snap — glaring at him long and hard. “what could you possibly have to say now? that you can’t fuck me tonight because you’re too busy working? cause you’re busy thinking of bending over that pretty, ditzy little reporter from work today ‘cause she’s a little more tolerable than me? what is it eijirou?” you punctuate each of his words with a jab to his muscular shoulder, though the man is sturdy enough not to feel it. 

you’ve had this fight before, dozens of times and on more occasions than you can count on both hands. eijirou either tunes out to play innocent or he snaps  back with all teeth bared and fangs on display.

“you’re being unfair.” is all he says, tone dull and lifeless just like it’s been before. it’s like he’s given up on the two of you, not that you’d blame him. there’s no more fight left in the two of you for your love, only fuelled by the anger and resentment  you feel towards  each other. 

“what next? bet you’ll think i’m being unreasonable.” 

“you are being unreasonable.”

“oh i’m sorry, is that a problem for you? am i inconveniencing you, riot?” 

“come on, what’s with the attitude?” 

“excuse me?” 

kirishima exhales shakily, letting go of your hips to pinch the bridge of his nose. his ruby eyes shoot everywhere but you, he can’t even stand to look at you when arguments like this come up. those eyes of his, they carry too much shake and guilt.  “you always get like this. when i come home and i just want to be close to you and you get all…aggressive.” he spits out harshly, like the words are poison on his tongue, like he can’t stand to see what your love has soured into. “angry like you want to hurt me when i’m trying to love you.”

you scoff, rolling your own jewelled eyes. “love me? don’t make me laugh, eijirou. you don’t know the first thing about loving anyone except for you and your job.” 

“will you at least fucking explain what i did tonight, ‘cause i’d love to know what’s got you so bitter, sweetheart?” hurt echoes in his timbre voice. you wish that you could tell him, but you flounder for words and react with rage instead — how can you tell the man you wanted forever with that you hate the hero he’s become? 

“fuck you, red!” you stand, retaliating instead of communicating your needs properly. “fuck you, mister red ‘righteous’ riot, mister eijirou ‘incapable of doing wrong’ kirishima.” 

kirishima’s face crumples but he follows suit, standing, but he doesn’t make a move to come closer. “what’s your fucking problem? what did i do?” 

“the blame is never on you, is it?” 

“well i’d like to know why it should be! if you’d just—“

“it’s like you have no sense of accountability—“

“i’m trying—“ 

“—like honestly, fuck you, eijirou.” 

“you’re not letting me talk!” the redhead damn near screams, the base in his voice shaking your house, bouncing off the walls. he sounds drained, pained and no amount of medication can fix it. you’ve blackened his heart with scorch marks and danced amongst the flames and now you’re finally seeing that it’s not just you who this relationship is crushing. 

each word you spit kirishima cuts him into the shape you want him to be, wounding him deeper than any battle scar. 

“and you’re not letting me fucking breathe!” you shout back rather than listening to logic. it’s a low blow, you’re highly aware — a reference back to the early days of your relationship when kirishima overcompensated his absence for affection. he thought you’d worked through it. you liked to throw it back in his face when you were mad. you’re stubborn, you always have been, but for some reason you want to hit kirishima where it hurts. you want to cut him up into the perfect shape, until he feels exactly how you feel. 

when he finally makes a move, you become aware of his sheer size for the first time that night. eijirou would never hurt you, he couldn’t harm a fly even if he wanted to but that doesn’t mean you’re not scared of his presence. kirishima touches every corner of the room, his anger flooding through it and pushing you under so that you’re drowning in your own mistakes and his too. 

“you’re suffocating me too,” he mumbles, voice just above a whisper and you relax into his arms. “i’m trying so hard to be the man that you want me to be. you take so much, you want even more. you want a house and you want kids and i want to give you that too but you make it so hard. when you hurt me like this.” he’s being honest, the truth scratching at his throat as the pro-hero vocalises what you’ve failed to communicate for months. you’ve been selfish and he’s been avoidant, the pair of you only hurting one another, carving cuts so deep the wounds won’t heal and the blood won’t stop pouring unless either of you do something. and fast. 

“where do we go from here?” you don’t even realise that you’re crying until your boyfriend swipes the pad of his thumb underneath your eyes, leaving no time for the salty droplet to hit your skin. 

your teary gaze is tied to his as kirishima’s ruby eyes glisten under the moonlight. “i don’t know.” he hesitates. “i don’t want you to leave me. you need me.”

you whimper and curl up against his chest. “i don’t want that either.” 

kirishima wraps his arms around you like a safety blanket, shielding you from the ugly truth of your own relationship. it’s always on and off with the two of you, but this time you’re determined to make it work — you hope that he is too. 

“we have to work on this, on us.” he says firmly, but he squeezes you close as if you might disappear — holds you as if you’re a flower that might wilt if it’s touched. “none of this on and off, we…we gotta talk to each other from now on. yeah?” 

“yeah,” for the first time in months, you sink into kirishima’s touch — accept his rough edges and hardened shell, and turn your pain into a promise. “we will.” 

a promise to keep dancing together like it’s the first time even when the world around yourself and eijirou kirishima is burning.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[swarvey]

🎉🎉🎈🎊🎈🎊🎉🎊🎈🎊 CONGRATULATIONS!!!

Maybe a ask of your favorite characters celebrating? Like you finished the community center and had the big party but your bookie bear wants to celebrate with you at home?

Ya know keep the celebration going for everyone

get a room! | harvey x f!reader

summary -> you finally finish the community center and celebrate with everyone in town. harvey would rather take things back home. warnings -> none! wc -> 787

a/n: i actually love this prompt sm, thank you anon!!! ik you didn't specifically request nsfw but i'm lowkey inspired so y'all lmk if you want a part two with what harvey would do hehe

-

"y/n! i can't believe it, you actually did it!"

emily tackles you with a hug, squeezing you tightly before looking at you with a proud gleam in her eyes. leah stands behind her with a warm smile on her face, while haley takes off her earbuds and begins looking around the finished community center. it took you countless seasons and, quite literally, your own blood, sweat, and tears to do it, but you've finally completed all the bundles in the building.

everyone in pelican town has joined you in celebration at the restored building. penny walks with jas and vincent, pointing to the different bundles and explaining the work you put behind them; alex stands in front of the fireplace and poses while haley begrudgingly takes a photo of him; sam and abigail excitedly make their way from room to room, sebastian trailing behind them and admiring the refurbished spaces.

"i have to say, i am quite impressed, my friend!" elliott declares broadly, walking up to you with a grin. "this explains all the running around i always see you doing, correct?"

"that's right," you reply, laughing as your friend gives you a round of applause. "please, at least this means that stupid joja mart will finally shut down."

"it also means i am currently unemployed, prick," another voice grumbles. you smile sheepishly at shane as he joins the two of you, arms crossed and an amused look in his eye. "thanks for that."

"now is not the time to drag her down," emily scolds. "look at all the wonderful energy surrounding this place!"

"oh, enough with that energy bullshit. it looks nice, i'll give her that."

"nice?" elliott repeats, suddenly looking personally offended. "why, i believe that's the understatement of the past hundred centuries."

as he continues on with his theatrics with leah pulling on his sleeve to stop, you can't help but listen with a warm feeling in your chest. despite everyone's differences, they were all willing to come here to celebrate your success. you realize how attached you've become to the town and its people, grateful to have the luck of living in such a place.

you startle slightly when you feel elliott's arm tightly wrap around your shoulders, drawing you to his side.

"she is the pride of pelican town, shane," elliott continues dramatically, shaking your body for emphasis. "the work she has done for all of us will be recognized years from now!"

shane laughs — wholeheartedly laughs — and you immediately grin back. it's not every day you get to see the grumpy guy crack a smile. "it looks like the 'pride of our town' might be dying of embarrassment in your arm, pretty boy."

"i have to agree." a hand gently grabs yours, tugging you out of elliott's grasp. "i hope i'm not interrupting."

harvey smiles at you, his gaze filled with love and pride. out of everyone, he definitely understands the efforts you put in the most — especially after long nights spent in the mines, or early morning visits to the clinic after you exhausted yourself a little too much.

"you never cease to amaze me, my dear," he expresses warmly, and suddenly, the rest of the room seems to fade away. "you're incredible."

you rub the back of your neck, shaking your head. "lewis is the one who told me what to do, and those little junimos helped out a bunch—"

"now is not the time to be humble." he squeezes your hand. "you're one of a kind. i can only hope this means you won't be going to the mines as often." harvey frowns then, a look of protectiveness taking over him. "i typically prefer not having to bandage you up, you know."

you laugh, but before you can respond, a gruff voice sounds from beside the two of you.

"and i usually prefer not having to see you guys eye-fuck each other in front of the entire damn population," shane groans, leaving to look at another section of the center. "get a room!"

you and harvey look at each other with raised brows, and you notice the others slowly inching away.

"if i have to admit," he starts, slightly pulling you closer to him, "i would prefer having you all to myself, as selfish as it sounds." you can see a blush creeping up his neck at his statement, looking at the floor in embarrassment.

"what's stopping you, then?"

his eyes meet yours, reaffirming your words, and you nod.

then, you suddenly find yourself all but sprinting out the community center doors. your laugh fills the air as harvey drags you along with him, face beet red as he leads you back to the farm.

[pinksugarscrub]

Starstruck

Hobie Brown x fem! musician! reader (high school au)

@rexlroze, @the-kr8tor What better place to stir up drama than high school? ✨️Enemies to lovers✨️

Part(s): Prologue, 1, ???

Visions Academy. Elitist? Yes, but the school of your dreams. An hour trip from Harlem on the subway. But if your mom’s dingy blue bug held up for another year you wouldn’t have to worry about paying for a MetroCard.

It was incredible when you visited on a campus tour. The music program was world renowned. You plan to take every course available but you need to be in that music room. Smell the polish from the guitars and touch the marble of the grand piano. You shiver just thinking about standing in the auditorium. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything your family could ever have dreamed of for their daughter.

So it doesn’t bother you to work until the dead of night with customers that make you want to tear your hair out. Visions makes it all worth it and well, being able to pay for your own gas is nice too.

It’s Friday, the parlor is loud and bustling with families, high schoolers, and disgruntled adults who just want to pay. Life couldn’t be any better than this.

“Manolo where are my damn pizzas?” Yuri screams over the bar separating the kitchen and the cashiers. Stacking empty boxes into her hands before shoving them under the counter.

“What do you expect me to do!?” He yells back. Antonio, his younger brother slipping on what you assume is the ghost pepper Manolo never picked up. “I’ve got six other orders before damn what’s his name. Tell him to wait his fu-”

You tune them out as you smile politely to the little girl in front of you who’s asked for a to-go cup.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” you chuckle. Watching her run back to her parents. It was sweet, reminding you of your own dad and mom back home.

“(y/n)!’

You don’t react as Yuri spins you around, pushing you towards the kitchen where boxes and boxes of pizza are stacked up. “Go, I expect you back within two hours eh?”

You also don’t react when she glares down at Antonio. Who is usually your delivery boy but is currently nursing a burn on his hand. The poor guy really was as clumsy as a deer.

“Two hours (y/n)!” She repeats.

Then the door slams shut behind you. Your car keys in hand and a bag draped over your shoulder that burns into your side with how many pizzas are stuffed inside. Don’t even ask how that worked, Yuri has her ways.

You sigh as you hop down the steps. Gently setting the bag in the passenger's seat once you reach your car. It takes you a second to set up your phone with directions along with music. The speakers are surprisingly clear as you turn the volume up and drive off. The city becomes a blur and the clock ticks back at you with each and every stop.

The last apartment. A pink building that’s chipping and full of overgrown vines that reminds you of a photo you saw at a pop up show once. You walk up the steps, the last two boxes in your hand.

“O’hara…”You mumble, “O’hara, O’hara- ah ha, there.” The loud buzz of the intercom makes you recoil as it echoes across the street. A minute later a voice rang through, words muffled and unintelligible

You shift nervously on the balls of your feet. Leaning close to the speaker against your better judgment.

“Hi! For Mr. O’hara?”

More words? You’re sweating at this point. You’re almost hitting your two hour mark. A second later another buzz rings through and the door unlocks.

You sigh, muttering under your breath. “Oh thank god.”

You quickly swing the door open. Scaling the steps once you see yellow caution tape and a note stuck to the elevator.

By the time you reach the fourth floor you’re huffing. Holding onto the railing you catch your breath.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,”You huff in exasperation. Eyes wide as you see every door number is faded or falling apart. “These people need a better landlord.”

You almost shriek as you see what time it is when you look down. You have less than fifteen minutes.

Running through the numbers as best you could. You settle on a door with punk themed stickers. You hope this is the apartment or the tenants will at least be nice enough to point you in the right direction.

Before you can even knock the door swings up.

“What do you mean-”

You stand there visibly in awe as you stare into the most beautiful set of eyes you’ve ever seen. Silver piercings and earrings decorating his face. Wicks pulled back into a ponytail.

“Oh hey! Can we help you?” A second face pops out from the side of the door. A kind smile on his face.

You clear your throat as you avert your gaze. “Yes, uhm, I’m looking for 4D?”

“O’hara?”

You melt inside as you hear his accent. British? But not exactly?

“O’hara,”you confirmed. Smile wobbly as you force your butterflies down. You really need to get out of here.

You don’t notice the two exchange a look.

“Oh, that’s us love.” He grins as he stares down at you.

“Great!” You beam. Mentally storing the name in the back of your mind. For what? You don’t know. It’s not like you had the courage to ask for his number.

It takes you less than a minute to hand the boxes over.

“How much do we owe you?”

This confuses you but your smile never wavers. “I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure you prepaid online.”

“Right right!” The second boy nods. Dragging his friend inside by the arm and snatching up the pizza with his free hand. “Thanks!”

The boy with wicks sends you a wink before closing the door behind them.

You wait until you’re out of sight to swoon. It lasts for about five seconds when you realize it’s been exactly two hours.

-

Yuri’s too busy when you come back to scold you. So the rest of your shift goes smoothly. Your mind drifting to the boy every once in a while. A small smile on your lips.

The phone rings and your bliss is broken. You hold your breath as insult after insult hits your ear through the receiver.

You feel like an idiot. The boy’s pretty face fading into obscurity. You blink back tears as you talk with the real Miguel O’hara.

What a shitty night.

[cambria-writes]

welcome to the very final chapter of honey and the hatchet! 🎉 it quite literally took eight whole entire years to get here, but i finally made it!

big thank you to everyone who's stuck around, read and flooded my notes with likes and shares this story around. i cannot express in any language i know how significant and meaningful that is.

for those who might be wondering, i used these photos of a suite at the macarthur to kind of situate myself.

...also sorry for kind of maybe edging you at the end there lol anyways enjoy!

pairing: patrick jane x named reader/ofc word count: 4,883 rating: A for adult content, MDNI warnings: smut, wearing, i know nothing about opera, PiV, unprotected sex, mild dom/sub, sir kink, neck grabbing but no choking, hair pulling if you squint, mentions of planned murders, relatively minor injuries (jane might have a cracked rib it's probably find), confession, the L word, this was not proofread and i'm almost sorry, please let me know if I should take anything else!

previousmasterlist

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: ℭ𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔷𝔞

Several Months Later

An opera house. A fucking opera house is where you end up spending Christmas Eve. It’s not something that a lot of people would get upset about, normally, and you know this. That’s why you’ve schooled your face into an expression that’s more rich, entitled boredom than resentful impatience.

But you’re in a box for a fancy show, wearing a dress that definitely costs more just to look at than your apartment likely does in a whole calendar year, and there’s free alcohol. Not that you’ve been indulging up until now, but it’s nice to know that there’s expensive, free booze for when you will be able to pay attention to literally anything else. 

Right now, your eyes are half-heartedly trailing around the stage, eventually halting at the Sopranist singing her heart out. You can’t make out the lyrics at all—never could, with how broad and loud the voices are in operatic compositions, nevermind the insane acoustics of this place—but the sound of the song feels appropriate. A slow build that keeps on building despite several fake-outs that make you believe you’re finally out of this eternal musical waiting.

Conveniently, it’s when the Sopranist pauses for a quick breath that you hear it. The drag of a foot against an old velvet rug. You whip your fan open and feign interest in the elaborate emotional display the singer is putting on. You’re not worried; you know you look like every other bored twenty-something in this place.

Patrick had personally made sure of that. 

“Enjoying yourself?” A woman asks, her deep, airy voice drifting around you as she moves to sit down to your left, French accent heavy in her words. She flips open a small hand fan with a short “thwap” before turning her attention to you.

Madame Jonquière is someone whose gaze feels heavy. Patrick hadn’t told you much about her. Just that she was at Stonewall and that he owed her a favour. Didn’t mention what the favour was for, and you didn’t bother prying any further. Madame Joncquière’s eyes go down to your hands for a second before meeting yours again. She smiles politely and inclines her head expectantly. You realize you haven’t answered yet.

“Sorry, yes,” you reply quickly. Clear your throat before looking back at the stage. “I can’t understand most of it but it sounds lovely. Thank you for letting me accompany you tonight.”

Madame Joncquière swings open a hand fan with a muted ‘fwap’ before fanning herself. “Oh no, thank you for your presence tonight!” she exclaims quietly, leaning forward closer to you.  You grin and leave over. “No one ever wants to come to the opera house with me anymore. They all think it’s boring!”

You laugh quietly along with her. Madame Joncquière leans back into her chair and fixes her gaze to the stage. You appreciate the space she’s leaving you. Despite the fact that she knows damn well that you’re here to make sure she doesn’t get assassinated, she seems to be taking everything in good stride.

You watch his back as he carefully pours a drink out of a shaker. You have no idea what prompted him to pick you up at 11:30AM for cocktail hour. On a Wednesday. In the empty, closed bar of some man who happened to also owe him a favour. You hadn’t expected an explanation. But Patrick had kept silent the whole car ride. It hadn’t been uncomfortable, but the whole time you can’t help but feel like you’re being psychologically edged. You can only refrain from asking the slew of questions floating in your head for so long.

A highball glass filled with some strange red-purple liquid swirling enticingly inside it. The colours almost make the ice look like it’s sparkling. You’re dazzled for a second before looking up at Patrick.

“One Purple Haze for our esteemed guest,” he says, dramatically, with a flourish and a bow. You laugh quietly before picking up the highball. Hold the glass up to the light to watch the colours mingle.

“It’s definitely nice to look at.” Distracted, you don’t notice Patrick walking out from behind the island to stand behind you. You don’t flinch when his cold hands part your hair to slide down your neck and rest on your shoulders. “Am I really expected to drink this before lunch? I haven’t even had breakfast.” 

“I did tell you to get up early last night,” Patrick says, voice low, by your ear. “Sounds like someone snoozed their alarm four too many times.”

You don’t answer. You instead try to see how quickly you can down the purple haze that was handed to you. Hoping to maybe inherit some of its own haze. You only stop when you’ve gulped down half.

“It’s a bad one, by the way,” Patrick adds, pressing a soft kiss at your temple before moving away. He sits on the stool next to you, slotting his knees between yours. “You’re supposed to pour the liqueur last to let it settle at the bottom. It isn’t supposed to swirl like that.”

You hum in understanding a look at the glass in the light again. “Shame, it looks nice this way.” Bring the glass back to your mouth for another sip. “Why am I getting a lesson in mixology today?”

“You’re going to the opera,” he starts, and you chug the rest of the drink before bracing yourself for another briefing. “And I’m going to need you to remember to order this, and how it’s supposed to be made.”

You frown. “Okay, so if I get it and it’s well made that means… what?”

Patrick smirks. Your stomach flips, entirely unaided by his hands running up your thighs. “It means I might have gotten… held up.”

“And this is… bad?”

Patrick hums and leans in, brushes his nose against your jaw. “If you consider first degree murder ‘bad’ then yes, it would be quite bad.”

You scoff at the blazé tone he takes, but it’s half-hearted. His fingers are working their way up your loose shorts toward your hips. 

“It might be a bad idea to sip at something that might have been poisoned.”

Ah, so this was it. 

Patrick hadn’t kept you in the loop for the entirety of this particular… situation. Not only because Madame J had gone to see him directly rather than the CBI, for reasons that hadn’t been obvious at the time, but because this seemed to be a personal slight. You’d kindly asked to be kept at an arm’s length for it all; solving murders had been one thing, but actively trying to prevent one felt beyond you.

You put your hands over his to halt their movement. Patrick immediately pulled back, brows furrowed in concern.

“I feel like too much hinges on me here,” you say quietly, pointedly staring at your knees. You can see the veins starting to honeycomb on your hands. Your fingertips feel cold and stiff.

“You don’t have to,” Patrick answers, just as quietly, pulling one of his hands back to run down your face, brushing your cheekbone with his thumb. “I can bully Rigsby into it.”

You can’t help but laugh a little. He’d probably love the chance to go out at the opera with someone who also wants to be there.

“How long do I have to think about it?” 

“Only until Saturday,” Patrick answers, and you can hear the apology in his voice. The last-minute nature of this annoys you–it only gives you three days, including today, to decide whether or not you want to be the final hurdle.

“I’ll sleep on it and let you know tomorrow.”

The evening goes well enough. You still can’t understand much of what’s being sung, but you enjoy the performance. The drama and emotion in the acting, while singing, is something that’s at least legitimately interesting to watch. 

You occasionally look over the audience as well. Your perch from the box gives you a fantastic vantage point to see most everyone in the hall. The hairs at the back of your neck have been raising every now and then. Same feeling as you get being observed in the dark. But every time you try to scan the crowd, everyone’s either facing the stage or canted forward in somnolence.

You hear a knock at the door of your box before the door opens. This is it, you think. You’d ordered drinks just as you were coming back from the intermission. You take a quick look at the dainty gold watch Patrick had wrapped around your wrist earlier in the evening. It’s been… fifteen minutes. Which seems like an awful long time to prepare a purple haze and a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

You don’t bother turning at all until you hear the serving tray being gently placed on the table between you and Madame J. You note, with no small amount of relief, that your purple haze muddled to absolute fuck and back. Perfectly safe to drink then.

Your server speaks up just as you notice, reaching for your glass, that there’s quite a spill on the tray.

“Au plaisir, mesdames.”

A thrill runs up your spine. Madame Joncquière looks up while you slowly wrap your fingers around the cool glass. She almost makes a joyful exclamation, but seems to stop halfway through taking in a breath for you. Keep your eyes on your drink while you listen to retreating footsteps, muted on carpet, until you hear the door open and close again.

Madame J’s hand lands softly on your shoulder to give it a squeeze. 

“How wonderful of Monsieur Jane to come look in on us himself!” she says to you, barely above a whisper. “Shall we cheers to that then, chérie?” 

Your heart still thrums in your chest from the thrill of it all. You raise your glass along with her, but just before knocking it against Madame J’s, you draw your hands back.

“Would you mind indulging me?” you ask quietly, trying to control the smirk threatening to take over your expression. 

Madame Joncquière clearly sees the scheming glint in your eyes and doesn’t hide her grin. It’s toothy, like a fox. And you feel like a peer, having caught a rabbit dead to rights. 

“Absolument! What would you like?” She leans in closer over the small end table between you. 

You carefully move to grab her wine glass and press your glass to her palm. She beams and immediately gets your meaning. You link arms together, giggling quietly as you try not to spill your respective drinks. 

“Cheers to yet another wonderful night on this train wreck of a planet,” you say, tilting the wine glass to clink against the highball. 

“I’ll drink to that!”

No sooner has the wine touched your lips, you hear a small commotion in the audience. Not enough to interrupt the show, but not something that won’t be noticed. 

The wine is bitter and sour on your tongue and you don’t bother to school your expression into something tame. Madam J laughs quietly behind her fan and offers your drink back. You hastily hand her back her awful wine and nurse your significantly sweeter cocktail.

The rest of the evening is blessedly uneventful. Patrick doesn’t make another appearance, but you don’t expect him to. You were surprised that he showed up personally in the first place. At the end of the show, after having another attendant–a real one, this time–slips you both back into your coats. Opens the door and thanks you for your patronage and only closes the door behind you once you’re most of the way down the hallway. Madame J links your arms together as you walk, chittering away about the singers’ performance. 

Once you reach the lobby, excuses herself for a moment to make a phone call. You make your way over to a plush lounge chair by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and take a seat. It’s fairly early, for a Sunday evening, so you pass the time people watching. Your phone vibrates in your coat pocket just as you see Madame Joncquière making her way over to you. Quickly look at your phone notification. 

‘Have her drop you off here,’ followed by an address and a room number. You don’t have time to respond back and ask where the fuck that is before Madame J extends her hand out to you. 

“I’ve been instructed to provide transportation for you, chère,” she says as you accept her hand to stand. “You’re alright to give my driver your address, yes?” 

Your body doesn’t seem to know if it should be excited or apprehensive. You acquiesce to Madame J after a second. Once you do actually enter her car–a vintage Cadillac with the classic wings–and let the driver know where to drop you off, she practically begins vibrating in her seat next to you. 

“Oh, please, you have to tell me who you’re meeting there!” she says, eagerly reaching for and grabbing your hands. The question must be written on your face because she laughs giddily. “Ma belle, the MacArthur is a veritable oasis in Sacramento. If you’re going there and you don’t know this, someone is very eager to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

This time the excitement wins over; you can feel your face heating up and you’re not entirely sure what your face is doing. You struggle to come up with something to say to that–what do you say to that?--but Madame Joncquière giggles some more and pats your thigh.

“So it’s Monsieur Jane, after all? What a man. I wonder who he conned into letting him stay there tonight.” 

“Probably someone else who owes him a favour,” you mutter. Your cheeks hurt from trying not to smile too widely.

“That would be a pretty sizeable favour to cash in on for leisure.” Her tone says she’s just thinking out loud, but you think you understand what Madame J’s trying to say.

Awful big favour to cash in on one woman. Must be a special one.

You try not to think too much about it.

The general manager meets you at the car. You wouldn’t have known he was the general manager if Madame Joncquière hadn’t turned into a gossipy 14 year old girl at the sight of him exiting the hotel doors. He opens the car door for you and helps you out with a hand.

“Lovely to have you, Ms Benraft. I’m Stephen Crawford, General Manager,” he introduces himself, taking a moment to lean forward to address Madam J. “Always a pleasure, Madame. Your friend will be in good hands with us.” 

“Always a pleasure, Monsieur Crawford. Have a wonderful night, chérie,” she finishes while addressing you, tossing a wink. “À la prochaine!” 

The general manager understands his cue to close the door, and the Cadillac slowly pulls away. 

You’re guided through the main building, where Stephen explains the history of the hotel and its various accommodations, all of which go into one ear and out the other. You’re taking directly to your lodgings, and  the general manager assures you that all amenities have been accounted for, including a late dinner and, in his words, “a small wardrobe in anticipation of whatever you would find comfortable”. 

You’re starting to understand why Madame Joncquière reacted the way that she did. Patrick has treated you to luxuries before–dinners, various events, even a trip out of the country–but none of it felt quite this… decadent. Almost overindulgent, actually. 

It truly feels like being spoiled rotten, and you’re still not sure how you feel about it.

Stephen hands you a very intricate key and steps back to wish you a good night, and that the front desk is available 24/7 should there ever be anything you need. You thank him and wait until he’s out of sight before turning back to the door. 

Your blood feels like it’s effervescing in your veins.

You consider knocking first, but decide to just let yourself into the room. You’re expected, after all, so it shouldn’t really matter, right? 

The first thing you notice is the fireplace. Then, the plush chairs, then the bed, then the bay window. The lighting is dim; only two lamps lit and the faint glow from the electric fireplace. The last thing you register is the sound of a shower running. 

You carefully close the door behind you and shrug your coat off, throw it in the direct of one of the chairs to your right. Walking further in, you spot a desk in a took to the left of the door with a chair conveniently pulled out. You carefully sit down to remove your shoes. Beautiful as they are and however aesthetically pleasant it was to have them match your dress, you’re happy to have them off. Carefully massage the soles of your feet, rotate your ankles, before leaning back in the chair.

This is lovely. You almost feel like you’re in one of those secluded little getaway suites in Bali or something. The vibes certainly match, even if late December weather is a bit too chilly. If you actually just let yourself enjoy everything for a second, and stop worrying about what it cost, this is just very nice. 

Maybe you’re starting to feel a little less spoiled and a little more pampered.

You’ve half dozed off by the time you feel warm hands on your shoulders. You sleepily hum, content, and sit up a little straighter. Stifle a yawn behind your hand and hear Patrick chuckle behind you.

“Have fun?”

You groan as you stretch. “Mm, would’ve been more fun withou–”

You cut yourself off after turning around and actually lay eyes on Patrick’s face. His lower lip is split on his left, and there’s a cut above the brow on the same side that you immediately know was from getting decked in the face. There’s also a disconcertingly large bruise on his left side, above his ribs, and you can’t fathom what would have caused that.

“Oh my–shit, are you okay? What happened?” 

You get halfway to standing up before Patrick gently presses you back down onto the chair. “Nothing too bad, I promise,” he answers, almost cajoling. Well, he’s breathing fine, from what you can see and hear. And he doesn’t seem like someone who got stabbed, you don’t think.

You still let the fingers of your left hand glide over the bruise. Patrick does a decent enough job to hide the wince, but it’s still there.

“Can I at least know what caused this one?” “Fire extinguisher.”

The words take a second to sink in before you start laughing. The image in your mind is absolutely far more cartoonish than what actually happened, for sure, but after an entire night of holding your breath, you can feel the tension start draining from your shoulders.

You turn back to face away from Patrick, and he resumes kneading the stress out of your traps and your neck. Thumbs dig into your neck on either side of your spine. It feels heavenly. Your breath catches when a shudder runs up your spine. There’s a heat that flares at the base of your spine when you feel his fingers gently wrap and brace against the sides of your throat.

“You did well tonight,” Patrick whispers into your hair. Takes a moment to brush your hair away before pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. 

You temper the rising, bubbling pride. “I didn’t even have to do anything.”

You can feel his laughter at the back of your neck. Hands slide down your arms before you feel him resting his forehead on your shoulder. 

“Switching your drinks was a clever idea.” You feel Patrick pulling away, squeak in surprise when he grabs the sides of the chair to spin you around. Crouches in front of your–and only now do you realize that he’s only got a towel around his waist, which parts dangerously wide as he lowers himself. “Made it a lot easier to catch our guy.”

Whatever tension in our shoulders Patrick hasn’t been able to dispel and disperse with his hands just… vanished. It had been a relief, initially, to know that Madame was safe and sound and not at risk of dying a slow, horrible, poisoned death. For the past 48 hours, it’s been a struggle to reign in your mind. You could barely sleep at night just for trying to distract yourself from what would happen if you didn’t pay well enough attention.

Patrick runs his hands over your thighs, up to your hips, tapping twice with his thumbs.

“I’m here,” you say airily, shaking off your thoughts to look Patrick in the eyes. “Just basked in the fact that it’s over now.” Lift a hand up to his face and gently smoothing your thumb below the cut at his brow. “Starting to wonder if I should have been worrying about you this whole time, instead.”

“Probably should have,” Patrick shrugs, and there’s a thrill that runs through you when you think, Of course I should have, of course you’d be getting yourself in some kind of mess.

He doesn’t say anything else when he stands back up and extends a hand out to help you to your feet. You feel silly for it, but you giggle when he makes you twirl, puling you back in with a hand at your waist. 

“Love the dress,” Patrick says, dipping in for a peck on the lips. “Where’d you get it?”

You scoff to compensate for the blood rushing to your face. “Some absolute scamp made me wear it tonight.”

Leading you into a slow, gentle sway by the fireplace, he puts on a show of looking offended. You laugh lightly at the exaggeration, but clear your throat once his expression settles. 

“I suppose the scamp should take it back, then,” he answers, voice low as the hand that held yours skips over ribs and moves up your back. 

You tilt your head when he begins to place opened-mouthed kisses down your neck. You let him pull your zipper down but otherwise don’t help him. Not that he needs much help; once the zipper stops, nearly at the very bottom of your spine, the top of your dress simply crumples away, taking the rest down with it.

Patrick takes a moment to pull back, hands smoothing down your upper arms as he takes a look at you. There’s a very self-content smirk on his face when he takes stock of the lacey, racy lingerie you’re wearing. A hand reaches down and tugs at your garter before letting it snap back into place.

God, the way he looks at you with such open, raw hunger continues to do things to you that you hadn’t known anyone was capable of. Until him.

“Even happier to see someone can follow instructions,” Patrick comments, sounding every part like the cat that got the cream. Both hands both over your hips, up your ribs, thumbs tracing the underside of your breasts.

Patrick leans in, lips barely brushing against yours. “Think you can keep following instructions?” 

You sigh shakily at his tone. “Yes, sir.”

You can feel his chest vibrate with his rumble of appreciation. He doesn’t speak when he tugs you along to bed. Doesn’t need to tell you what to do when he sits, tossing the towel from his waist in the general direction of the sitting area, leaning against the headboard. You dutifully install yourself on his lap, slowly settling your weight over his thighs. 

With two hands firmly on your rear, Patrick pulls you in as close as he can. Thrusts his hips up as he does so. Just the heat of his erection, throbbing against your damp underwear, has you moaning behind tightly sealed lips.

“That’s it,” Patrick encourages when you begin to rut against him without prompting. “Take what you want, I’ll give you the rest.” The rest of his sentence is almost unintelligible as he takes turns between kissing and nipping at your breasts. The bra is a pathetic excuse for fabric, and you understand why he had you wear this particular set; it almost feels as though there’s nothing at all between your skin and the wet heat of his mouth.

It doesn’t take long before you have to brace yourself against Patrick’s shoulders, and soon after that you find yourself whining as you toss your head back. The friction and heat are both wonderful in their own respect, but the angle is wrong, and it’s not nearly enough. 

You’re ravenous, and Patrick is a meal that loves to hold himself out of reach just a bit past long enough.

“Use your words,” he breathes into your collarbones, one hand moving us to massage at one of your breasts while the other moves lower. Down past the delicate lace waist of your panties, thumb teasing around your clit. 

“Fuck,” you choke out, unable to keep yourself from grinding down harder and faster in the hopes that something will change. 

“Not quite enough words,” Patrick quips, and you growl, annoyed. Bring your head back forward and do your best to maintain eye contact. 

It still feels embarrassing, even now. To say it out loud.

You’re learning to accept that… maybe you’re just. A little bit into that.

“Please, sir,” you start, clearing your throat and swallowing thickly. “I would very much like you to fuck me, please.”

Patrick practically purrs, satisfied. This part, too, is well rehearsed. You muster just enough self control to raise your hips. Enough room so he can pull his cock forward. Enough for you to gather saliva in your mouth and let it dribble down. Over Patrick’s hand, and over his cock.

He groans with the feeling of it as you exhaled in something you think might be awe. His eyes are close and head tilted back. He looks debauched, you think, but not quite enough. 

“Can I–can I touch, sir?” you pants, hands already raised by the sides of his head.

“Can’t say no when you ask so nicely,” he breathes out. You immediately run your hands through his hair, digging your fingertips into his scalp. He moans, a drawn-out thing that has your cunt clenching in a desperate way. 

A shudder like electricity shoots through you when you feel Patrick simply pulling aside the gusset of your underwear before lining himself up with your entrance. He takes a second–during which you whine in complaint–to get a hand at the back of your head, fisting the hair there just enough to get your attention. Look down at him with impatient, hooded eyes. 

“You’ll forgive the terrible timing,” he starts, sounding about as breathless as you’re sure you currently do. “But there’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“You’re right,” you groan, leaning your head forward to rest against his. “It’s terrible ti–”

Your sentence is blissfully interrupting when Patrick thrusts up into you. Not quite hilting himself, but damn well near it. You’re not sure what you would call the sound that cracked its way out of your throat. He groans in unison with you, and you’re not sure who’d trying to pull who in closer.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes out, one hand guiding your hips to slowly move against him, the other smoothing the hair at the back of your head. “I love you.”

You keen, a quick, sharp pitched sound. Push yourself just far away to look him in the eyes. Takes him a second to build enough composure back off to raise his head and look at you straight on.

He’s been unguarded before, sure, but not like this. There’s something swirling in your chest and low in your abdomen. Something heavy, heady. 

“Christ,” you exhale, lifting your hips before slamming them back down. Your sharp inhale catches in your throat and Patrick bites back another groan. “Worst timing. Other women would question your motives.”

“Mmh, good thing you aren’t any other woman.” The end of his sentence is punctuated by a particularly sharp thrust upward. You can feel the tip of his cock just brushing against your cervix, and the jolt it sends through has you grinding down back in turn. 

Patrick winds his arms around your back and presses your against his chest. You feel him bracing his feet against the mattress, immediately move to grab the edge tof he headboard. Feel him chuckle under you, flinch when you feel teeth against one of your nipples through the sparse lace.

“Fortunate that I love you too, then.”

You don’t get to properly register the sound you hear bubbling up from the back of Patrick’s throat before he thrusts back up into you. Sets a pace that might’ve been brutal, but even in the haze of oxytocin in your brain you can recognize that this is relief. 

A man that’s been alone and snarling at and against the world for so many years just… just told you he loves you.

When you feel a hand make its way around your throat, you take the cue. 

It’s a tomorrow problem.

Tonight you can just feel, and bask in several jobs well done.

Tag List

@fucklife-or-me @mamacakeishereforfun @newavenger @yearningforsappho @natsukee @piper570 @rikuisthesweetestboy @berry-blink @wandabillywrites @leftovers-and-headrubs @pauphs @gamingfeline @racoonkitty @dogmatic255 

[luvsfootball]

jealous boy - ruben dias.

requested by - anon.

request - omg i can’t believe you write for ruben dias 🙌 i love your fics. could you write one where he brings you to practice around his teammates, and he doesn’t like how well you’re getting with them, and when you guys get home he blows up out of jealousy

ruben loved you so much.

you had only been together for around six months, but he was certain you were the one for him.

he had met you when you moved into the apartment next to his and he offered to help you bring the boxes inside. you got on like a house on fire and were friends for around two months before he finally asked you to be his.

during that time, his teammates were hearing about you constantly. whenever they were having a conversation about something, ruben would always find a way to bring you into it.

“so when are we going to meet the y/n?” erling asked one day before a match. ruben had never thought about that.

his teammates were a big part of his life, practically his brothers; but so were you.

he brought the idea up to you one night when he was at your place for the night, and you were more than happier to come along to training the next day.

you met bernardo first. he was nice to you, cracking jokes about ruben’s sense of style and how he can’t cook.

but when it got to jack and phil, ruben couldn’t help but feel annoyed at you three. you were getting on like a house on fire, your laughter bouncing off the walls as he watched on.

before you left, he fumed when you and jack shared instagrams, and phil added you as well.

“baby, what’s wrong?” you asked, reaching to grab his hand but he pulled it away, starting the car and taking the wheel instead.

he didn’t answer you and the whole car ride was spent in silence.

“seriously? the silent treatment?”

ruben ignored your scoff as you rode the lift, and when you stepped out, you pulled your own apartment keys out and slammed the door in his face.

for the most part, he felt bad. he was the one that invited you to come and he was the one who couldn’t handle his jealousy. but he still didn’t see why you had to talk so much to jack and phil.

+

frantic knocking on your door woke you from your afternoon nap, and you shot up out of bed thinking something was wrong.

you rushed to the door and opened it wide, seeing ruben on the other side. was he drunk?

“what the hell do you want, ruben?”

he felt his heart sink when you used his full name. you always said rubes or baby. never ruben.

“i didn’t like them talking to you like that.”

you came to the conclusion he wasn’t drunk but frustrated. god knows how many times he had ran his fingers through his hair.

“who?”

“phil and jack!”

he entered your apartment without your permission and if it wasn’t for the other people in the building, you would have kicked him right back out.

you sighed as you watched him stand next to a cabinet, staring at a photo of you two. “ruben, you asked me to go and meet everyone. i couldn’t exactly ignore them.”

“i know, but you didn’t have to talk with them like you were. all flirty when that should be for me and only me.”

“what do you mean, flirty? i would never even bat an eyelid towards another man, so i don’t know where you got that assumption from!”

you didn’t realise you were chest to chest with ruben until he grabbed your wrists softly, looking down as if he was ashamed.

“i know, okay? and i’m sorry for the way i acted but i’ve never loved anyone like this before and it’s scary.”

you pulled your hands from his grip and grabbed his cheeks, smiling softly. “i love you too, ruben.”

[bloodyquillink-blog]

I had a thought…

This is going to be based off of the audio roleplays from @yuurivoice on youtube with his OC Auron and listener/lover Rook.

I was listening to The Night Does Not Belong To God by Sleep Token. Something about the piano in the beginning just fits the scene so well.

Imagine:

Listener(Rook) is taken by some enemies of Auron’s. Probably very old enemies that he believed were dead or at least disbanded.

They beat the shit out of Rook and send photos of the aftermath to Auron in a nice little package (for visualization purposes, remember when Seth, Alphonse and Boo got the box of Jessie’s hair? Yeah, kinda like that.)

Auron gets his gang together because he is seeing red, almost as if the blood he’ll spill has already gotten into his eyes.

He storms into whatever warehouse or building Rook is in.

He finds the rest of the gang that had kidnapped you but can’t find the leader of them. He’ll handle that later, he supposes.

Auron finds Rook laying on the ground, still tied to a chair. They’re knocked out and bleeding.

His gang frees Rook and he carries them out in his arms, whispering reassurance between every command he sends his team.

At a very fancy hospital, Rook wakes up. Laying on a hospital bed and watching Auron. His elbows on his knees, he’s hunched over and lost in thought. That is, until Rook speaks.

“Hey, hero…”

Auron confesses how afraid he was, trying to make it sound more like anger instead of fear. He explains that he couldn’t find the leader.

“You have some work to do” Rook says.

With their working and less sore arm, the pull out brass knuckles that Auron had gifted them (a sign of trust in his eyes, giving Rook an idea of just how cruel he can be behind the scenes). I almost want to imagine that Rook had fashioned this into a necklace they could tuck into their shirt so it wouldn’t arouse suspicious but idk.

Auron takes the brass knuckles. He silently kisses Rook on the head and caresses their cheek.

“My hands… are going to look much bloodier when I come back. The streets… will be even dirtier than before. My love for you is like a bullet. Nothing stands in its way… and if it tries to…” he doesn’t need to finish his sentence.

Auron leaves, slipping the knuckles on and telling a few of his people to keep watch. He puts his hair up and gets to work.

He comes back hours later to find you sleeping peacefully.

Your injuries, though tended to, are still red and irritated. You’ll be out of work for a bit.

Auron sits right where he was before he left. By your bed. However now, he looks at you. He watches your breathing, listens to the small noises you make. The only sound is the light fixtures buzzing.

He slips off the brass knuckles and wipes his hands off.

His bruised hands gently brush your hair. The cracks in his skin sting, but he ignores it. There are higher priorities. Auron stays, ignoring his discomfort being in such a stale environment.

He replays the beating he dished out over and over in his head until you come back to the forefront of his mind.

He temporarily forgets his cruelty, exchanging the thoughts for those of you. Every moment he has seen of you.

This shouldn’t have happened in the first place. If anyone else knows about you, then perhaps he should pay them a visit too.

He plans as you sleep.