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mrsfancyferrari · 2 months ago

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Christmas Ball

Summary: CS55 + fake dating for a Christmas party/ball

Song: Michael Bublé - White Christmas

Author’s note: I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 4.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You always found the holidays to be a bittersweet time, a swirling mix of joy and nostalgia that danced through the air like the flurries of snow outside your window. This year, however, felt particularly strange.

The twinkling lights of the city and the festive decorations around your apartment offered a sense of cheer that somehow faded against the backdrop of your best friend Carlos's impending departure from Ferrari.

The air was thick with anticipation, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to change.

"Carlos, are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, trying to hide your concern behind a playful smirk.

It was the day before the big Christmas party, and Carlos had approached you with an unusual proposition: to be his fake girlfriend for the event.

He leaned back against the wall of your small kitchen, arms crossed, and gave you that charming grin you could never resist.

"Come on, you know the guys at the team will never let me live it down if I show up alone. They've been teasing me for months about being single. I can't go in there and give them the satisfaction."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but chuckle. Carlos was right; the engineers and team members could be relentless. It was as if they took pleasure in reminding him that he was one of the most talented racers in the world but somehow couldn’t manage to keep a girlfriend.

"But a fake girlfriend? Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, your family will be there too. They’ll want to know more about me."

“Exactly! You know them already. You’ll fit right in.” He took a step closer, and his expression turned earnest.

“Please, I can’t do this alone. It’ll just be for one night. Just act like we’re a couple, and we’ll get through it. I promise you won’t regret it.”

You hesitated, glancing around your kitchen as if the utensils might offer some clarity. “What if they ask us about our ‘relationship’? You know, like how we met or something?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll figure it out as we go. I trust you. And you’re good at this kind of stuff. Remember that time we pretended to be a couple at my cousin’s wedding?”

“That was one time! And we were twelve!” you exclaimed, laughing at the memory of young Carlos and you dressed up in ill-fitting suits and dresses, giggling as you attempted to dance.

“Exactly! And we pulled it off!” His voice was filled with enthusiasm. “You’re the only one I trust to do this with me. Plus, it’ll be fun! Just think of it as an adventure.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious excitement. Deep down, you knew you would never say no to him. The truth was, despite the outrageous nature of the request, you found the idea of pretending to be his girlfriend strangely appealing.

Maybe it was the excitement of the party itself or perhaps the thrill of being in such close proximity to someone you cared about so deeply.

“Fine. But only for one night. And don’t think you can make me wear a silly outfit or anything.”

Carlos clapped his hands together, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Deal! You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear. I'll pick you up, and we’ll go in style.”

The night of the party arrived, and you stood in front of your full-length mirror, adjusting the shimmering red dress that hugged your curves perfectly.

The color reflected the team’s colors, a deep and vibrant shade that made you feel festive but elegant. The twinkling lights decorating the streets outside seemed to echo the excitement thrumming in your heart. It was a night meant for glamour, and you couldn’t wait to step into that world—especially since Carlos would be your partner in crime.

You glanced at the clock. He was late, and you felt the familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach. Was it silly to feel anxious? This was supposed to be fun.

You had agreed to play the role of Carlos's fake girlfriend for the evening, a little charade to help him navigate the intricacies of a farewell party filled with fans, colleagues, and those who were eager to get a word in about his future.

Just as you were beginning to worry, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Your heart skipped a beat. Moments later, Carlos knocked on your door, and the sound reverberated through your chest.

“Hey! Ready to steal the show?” he called out, his voice filled with that familiar charm that always made you smile.

You opened the door to find him standing there in a crisp black suit, his dark hair styled just right, and his smile wide enough to melt anyone’s heart.

The sight of him took your breath away. “Wow,” he said, eyes widening as he took you in. “You look incredible.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, the warmth creeping up as you looked down at your dress, then back up at him. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Carlos stepped inside and took your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “Shall we?”

He led you to his car, opening the door and helping you in with a grace that made your heart flutter. The drive to the venue was filled with light banter about the party.

“I can’t believe how many people are going to be there just for me,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly with stress.

You squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right beside you,” you assured, your voice steady.

“Thanks, cariño,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I picked the right girlfriend,” he joked, and you laughed, the sound mingling with the excitement in the air.

When you finally arrived at the event, Carlos helped you out of the car, shielding you from the flashing lights of the paparazzi. “Let’s go and show them how it’s done,” he said, offering his arm.

You looped yours through his, the gesture feeling surprisingly natural, as if you had done this a thousand times before.

As you entered the building, the atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace. A crowd of important people milled around, dressed in their finest, and the air was filled with laughter and conversation. You felt a mixture of nerves and excitement; it was hard to believe you were part of this glamorous world for the night.

Carlos greeted guests with confidence, exchanging pleasantries and smiles, and you stayed close by his side, waiting for the moment he would introduce you or for someone to inquire about who you were.

“Carlos!” a voice called, and you turned to see Charles approach, his face lighting up at the sight of Carlos. “Mate, we’re going to miss you.”

Carlos laughed, patting his friend on the back. “Thank you! I’m excited for the new adventure, but I’m really going to miss you guys.”

“Who’s this?” Charles asked, turning to you with curiosity.

Carlos glanced at you, a playful grin on his face. “This is my girlfriend. We’ve been together for a few months now.”

You felt a slight thrill at being introduced, even if it was under the guise of a relationship that was more a performance than reality. “Nice to meet you,” you said, offering your hand.

“Likewise! Good to see Carlos has someone like you by his side.” Charles winked and moved on, leaving you both with a hint of laughter in the air.

Carlos leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “That was easier than I expected.”

You smiled, “Just wait until the press gets a hold of this. They’ll eat it up.”

“I know,” he said, a hint of worry crossing his features. “I just hope it doesn’t get too out of hand.”

You straightened your shoulders, ready to support him. “We’ll handle it together. I’ve got your back.”

The night progressed, and you moved from one conversation to another, Carlos introducing you to various people, and you feigned familiarity, playing your role well. There were moments of laughter, shared stories, and even some touching tributes from his friends that made your heart swell with pride for him.

“You’re doing great,” Carlos said, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. His dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nerves. The way he looked at you made your heart race a little faster.

“I’m just trying to remember my lines,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “What was it again? ‘I’m so proud of my boyfriend’ or ‘Carlos is going to take the racing world by storm’?”

“Definitely the second one,” he laughed. “But you can’t forget the part where you look impressed by my driving skills.”

“Of course, I’ll be your biggest fan tonight,” you replied, adjusting the elegant dress you wore.

Finally, you spotted them. A cluster of warm, welcoming faces, all gathered around a beautifully decorated table. Carlos’s mother, Reyes, a woman with an infectious laugh and a penchant for elegant scarves, was the first to notice your approach. Her eyes lit up as she stood, arms wide open, ready to welcome her son.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, pulling Carlos into a tight embrace. “We’ve been waiting for you! And you must be the lovely girl I’ve heard so much about.”

“Yes, I’m—” you started, but Carlos cut in.

“This is my girlfriend,” he said with an air of confidence, placing a gentle hand on your lower back. “You remember what I told you, right?”

“Of course! It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Reyes said, turning her attention to you. You couldn’t help but feel her warmth radiating towards you. “Carlos has told us all about you, and I must say, he’s been smitten ever since he met you.”

“Mamá, come on,” Carlos chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as a slight blush crept across his cheeks. “You make it sound like I’m a lovesick puppy.”

You stepped forward, extending your hand for a handshake, but Reyes pulled you into an embrace instead.

The sincerity in her touch gave you a sense of comfort. “We are so excited for you both! We want to hear everything.”

Carlos’s father, a distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair, stepped forward next. “And what is your name, my dear?”

“It’s Y/N,” you replied, a bit shyly.

“Ah, Y/N,” he repeated, his gaze warm. “Carlos has been lucky to have you by his side. A good partner is invaluable in this world.”

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, feeling the weight of his words. You felt a mix of pride and anxiety; you wanted to impress them but also felt like you were stepping into a role you hadn’t fully prepared for.

Just then, Carlos’s sister, Blanca, chimed in, her curly hair bouncing as she approached. “So, how did you two meet?”

“We’ve actually known each other since childhood,” you explained, your voice steadier now.

“Oh, that’s where I’ve seen you before! You two were always together when you were little,” Reyes added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Yeah,” Carlos chuckled, his arm subtly wrapping around your waist. “We’ve been through a lot together. It only makes sense for her to be here tonight.”

As the evening progressed, you found yourself in a whirlwind of conversations and laughter, with Carlos’s family treating you like one of their own.

Each kind word from them built your confidence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being a little out of place.

Later, as the string quartet shifted to a slower melody, Carlos leaned closer to you, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I think my family is starting to really like you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, a little breathless. “But you’re the one who’s charming them.”

He chuckled, and you noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, a sign of genuine happiness. “I’m just glad you’re here with me. It would be a lot more nerve-wracking without you.”

You glanced at him, and for a moment, it felt as if the world outside had faded away. You both stood on the periphery of the dance floor, the couples moving gracefully in the dim light, laughter mingling with the sweet strains of music.

“Carlos,” you said softly, “are you really okay with this whole… fake girlfriend thing?”

His expression turned serious, the laughter in his eyes replaced with a warmth that made your heart race. “Honestly? It was supposed to be just a simple arrangement, but I’m enjoying this way more than I thought I would.”

A pang of hope swelled in your chest, but you quickly brushed it aside. “Me too,” you admitted. “But it’s complicated, right? I mean, you’re about to leave for Ferrari, and I—”

He interrupted, his tone earnest. “But I don’t want it to end. Not like this.”

Before you could respond, his sister Blanca waved you over. “Y/N! Come dance with us!”

Carlos gave you a gentle push toward the dance floor. “You should go; they’re waiting for you.”

Reluctantly, you stepped onto the floor, finding a place among Carlos’s family. They welcomed you with open arms, laughter and joy surrounding you as you twirled and swayed to the music.

You felt the weight of your worries lift, if only for a moment, and lost yourself in the rhythm of the night.

You danced freely, letting the music guide your movements. You could feel Bianca’s infectious energy beside you, and together, you lost yourselves in the moment, giggling and twirling under the stars.

From a distance, Carlos watched, his heart swelling as he observed you. You were radiant, carefree, and completely lost in the music. He leaned against a wooden pillar, taking in the sight, when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“You picked a good one,” said his father, standing beside him with an approving nod. Carlos turned to his dad, a hint of surprise etched on his face.

“Yeah, she’s amazing, isn’t she?” Carlos replied, trying to mask the hint of admiration in his voice. It was true; you had a spark that drew people in, and Carlos felt lucky just to know you.

“Do you really like her?” his dad asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to need a good woman by your side when you start this new chapter. You can’t always be the charming bachelor.”

Carlos chuckled lightly, the laughter fading as he thought about the question. Did he like you? It was more than that. You were a friend, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface—a warmth that ignited every time you smiled at him or when you laughed at his jokes.

“Yeah, I do,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s complicated.”

“Life is complicated, son. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just enjoy the moment,” his father advised, clapping him on the shoulder before drifting away to chat with other guests.

Carlos returned his gaze to the dance floor, watching you sway with Bianca. The two of you were the picture of joy. You glanced over, catching his eye again, and this time, you blew him a kiss, teasingly.

He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head, his heart skipping a beat.

“Your sister is very energetic,” you said, returning to Carlos after the dance. You brushed a few errant strands of hair from your face, a little breathless from the whirlwind of dancing.

Carlos chuckled, his deep voice reverberating within you. “That’s one way to put it. She’s been practicing her dance moves for weeks, all to show off at my farewell party.”

“Looks like she’s succeeding,” you replied, glancing back at Bianca, who was now attempting an exaggerated salsa move with one of the other guests.

The sight made you laugh. You could hardly keep up with her energy, but you loved how infectious her spirit was.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the party transitioned from laughter to a more subdued warmth.

You felt a slight shiver, not from the cool evening air, but from the warmth radiating between you, a connection that felt both exciting and unnerving.

“So,” he began, his expression shifting slightly as you settled beside him on the bench, “how does it feel to be my fake girlfriend for a night?”

You paused, considering your response. “Weird but natural, if you know what I mean.”

You glanced back at Bianca, who had just twirled around, her skirt flaring out, and you couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

“Natural? Really?” Carlos raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What’s so natural about pretending to be my girlfriend?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know, it just feels… comfortable? We’ve known each other long enough. It’s not like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I feel it too.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

The way the dim lights of the party cast shadows across his face made him look almost ethereal, and your heart did a little flip that you tried to ignore.

“Okay, but you have to admit this is ridiculous,” he continued, still grinning. “We’re just two friends pretending to be in love. What if someone takes us seriously?”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling the coolness slide down your throat. “Who cares? It’s just for tonight. And honestly, I think it might be a little fun.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fun, huh? So you’re saying you wouldn’t mind me throwing an arm around your shoulder, or maybe… a kiss on the cheek?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “What if I’m a terrible kisser?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’m sure you’d be fine,” you shot back, teasingly. “And if not, I’ll just call it an act.”

“An act that could end badly,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I suppose I could get used to having my ‘girlfriend’ on my arm tonight.”

As the evening wore on, the laughter and chatter of the party swirled around you. You found yourself slipping into the role with surprising ease.

You chatted with Carlos about everything from childhood memories to your mutual love for terrible rom-coms.

With each passing moment, the line between fake and real began to blur, making you acutely aware of the warmth emanating from him, the way he always seemed to be in tune with your thoughts, the subtle glances that lingered just a second too long.

“Look, we need to act like a couple now,” Carlos said suddenly, his tone shifting as he glanced at a group of partygoers who were eyeing you both. “Hold my hand.”

You raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “What? Now?”

“Just do it!” He reached for your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. You took a deep breath but found yourself lacing your fingers with his. It felt… nice. Comforting, even.

“Wow,” you murmured, unable to hide your surprise. “This is weird.”

“Weird but natural, right?” he quipped, echoing your earlier words. You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted.

Carlos led you into the crowd, and you could feel the eyes of the party on you. The thrill of being ‘together’ ignited a strange mix of excitement and nervousness in your stomach.

“Just follow my lead,” he says, his voice low and full of playful confidence. You nod, unsure of what to expect.

As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower rhythm. The lights dim slightly, creating an intimate atmosphere. Carlos’s hand glides to the small of your back, guiding you closer.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body as he locks eyes with you, a spark of something electric passing between you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s just dancing.”

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, and the world around you blurs into a sea of motion. It’s just you and him, swaying together. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady beat of his heart mirroring your own.

“See? Not so bad, right?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re both smiling now, caught up in the moment. “But I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Neither can I,” he admits, his expression softening. “But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

Your bodies move in sync, flowing with the music as if it were a language only you two understood. His eyes search yours, searching for a sign, a signal that this isn’t just an act. In this crowded room, the two of you have created a bubble, a space where everything else fades away.

Just then, he dips you, his grip firm yet gentle, and your heart leaps into your throat. You trust him, allowing your body to lean back, supported completely by him.

You can’t help but laugh breathlessly. “Okay, you’re showing off now!”

“Maybe I am,” he grins, bringing you back up slowly. Your faces are so close, your lips almost touching. The air around you thickens, and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of every detail—the warmth of his breath, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Carlos,” you start, your voice barely a whisper, the question hanging between you two.

“I know,” he says softly, the playfulness fading. “I feel it too. But… this is fun, right? Just for tonight?”

You swallow hard, the tension rising in your chest. “Yeah, just for tonight,” you confirm, but inside, a part of you is desperate for more.

His hand moves to the small of your back again, pulling you closer, and the world around you fades even further. You lose track of time, caught in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his presence.

"Do we have to go back?" you murmured, your gaze lingering on his warm brown eyes, the softness of his expression making your heart flutter.

Carlos chuckled softly, the sound sending a warm thrill through you. "I mean, I’m not the host, but I think we’re kind of required to. Speeches and all that," he replied, reluctantly breaking the closeness between you.

He took a deep breath, his fingers lingering on your waist for just a moment longer before he stepped back.

You nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and excitement. You had entered this arrangement as a favor—a way to help Carlos navigate the complexities of family expectations.

But now, with every shared glance and playful touch, the line between pretend and real began to blur.

As Carlos's father stood up to give his speech, you could see the pride etched on his face, the way his chest swelled with love as he looked at his son.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice rich and steady. "Today, we gather to celebrate not just Carlos’s achievements, but the man he’s become. He has faced challenges with determination, embraced every opportunity with an open heart, and today, I stand before you, proud to call him my son."

A wave of emotion washed over you as you listened. You raised your glass with everyone else, your heart swelling with a mix of pride and an unfamiliar warmth.

Carlos caught your eye, and in that moment, you felt a connection that transcended the confines of your agreement. You were more than just a façade.

You were becoming someone significant in his life.

“To Carlos!” everyone toasted, their voices a harmonious blend of joy and affection. You clinked your glass against his, the sound a sweet reminder of your bond, however unconventional it may have been.

As the applause died down and conversations picked up once more, Carlos turned to you, his expression shifting from celebratory to serious.

"I know this is all a bit pretend, but…” He hesitated, searching your eyes for understanding, the sincerity of his tone causing your heart to race. “I don’t want it to end when the party does."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. The party was a façade, sure, but the emotions swirling between you felt real. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, this—us,” he gestured between the two of you, “it’s more than just an arrangement for me. I enjoy being around you. You make me feel… I don’t know, alive?”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he looked genuinely vulnerable. “I don’t want you to go back to being just Carlos’s friend or fake girlfriend. I want to see where this can really go.”

Your heart raced at his words, the gravity of the moment pressing down on you. “Carlos, we’ve always had chemistry, haven’t we? It’s just been… complicated.”

“Complicated,” he echoed, his gaze intense. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, breath hitching in your throat.

Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low, “I mean, maybe we don’t have to pretend anymore. Maybe we could explore whatever this is between us.”

The thought sent a thrill through you, but fear followed closely behind. “What if it gets complicated again?” you asked, trembling slightly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, a hint of uncertainty crossing his features. “But isn’t it worth finding out? I don’t want to leave without knowing what this could be. What we could be.”

You felt the warmth of his hand brush against yours, a spark igniting where your fingers met. The warmth was both electrifying and comforting, and without thinking, you leaned closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Okay,” you whispered, your breath catching as his thumb traced over your knuckles. “Let’s see where this goes.”

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to suppress your own smile. “But no salsa dancing. I can’t handle that level of energy.”

Carlos laughed, the sound echoing into the hall. “Deal. I’ll save the salsa for my sister.” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I can offer something much better.”

You held your breath as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly. It was tentative at first, as if he was gauging your response. You kissed him back, the warmth of the fire fading into the background as everything else fell away.

In that moment, everything felt right. The chaos of the party, the looming specter of his departure for Ferrari, and the uncertain future melted away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a bubble of shared hope and newfound possibility.

As you pulled back, a breathless smile crept across your face. “So, how does it feel to have a real girlfriend?” you teased, feeling a surge of joy.

Carlos grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Let’s just enjoy the moment,” you said softly, echoing his father’s words.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he agreed, and for the first time, you felt like everything might just be okay after all. . . . .

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bluerthanvelvet444 · 9 months ago

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‧₊˚♫ ⋅* ‧₊✮𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✮‧₊˚ ⋅*♫ ˚₊⋅

Tate Langdon x fem!reader

tags: smut with a plot and some fluff.

warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of a switch!Tate, oral (f receiving), dry humping, p in v.

summary: Tate encounters a Tumblr girl. (Inspirated a lot by the song I linked under.)

character count: 12k.

full fic under the cut ↓

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

2014.

Tate had never really cared about looking ‘stylish’ or ‘fitting in’ when he was alive. He had his own style, which wasn’t trendy nor one of a kind just…his. He didn’t need anyone else’s approval to believe he was cool, mostly because the girls that were attracted to him were just as fucked up as him and the popular ones tended to ignore him.

Ironical how that changed in his afterlife, once he saw you. After dying, Tate’s time was spent either with the other trapped souls or by himself. Hardly ever people moved in the Murder House, and whether they did, they were a low-budget couple in their 40s. So Tate’s knowledge of the modern outside world was poor and lacking, especially when it came to his ‘peers’. That’s why when you first moved in the house, Tate was stunned, if not flabbergasted even.

You were struggling with carrying your heavy luggage, muttering curses as the wind blew your colorful hair in your eyes. The first word that came in Tate’s mind as he watched you from the front window was “cool.”

He spent the first days of your sojourn watching you from afar, admiring the way you acted. Tate found out the way you styled your outfits in the fashionable way, how you talked to your friends in slangs and how you spent your evenings taking pictures on your polaroid and on a glowing little box, that for some strange reason you called phone, to post (that’s the term you used) on a little blue icon marked with a white t. He didn’t know what was considered popular now, but he was sure you belonged in that category, judging by the way you looked and the way your pictures had high numbers under them whenever you uploaded them. He needed wanted to approach you, and the perfect opportunity showed up when he saw you type on your glowing box:

“PARTY in the MURDER HOUSE tonite!! >_< :33!!”

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

The house had never been so full of alive people having fun. The doors were open, colorful lights were shining and high volume music was blasting. Tate tried blending in, although the more he looked around the more he felt…lame. The drunk teens around him were all different from each other, and none of them matched his vibe. And he even wore his favorite sweater!

Still, he had nothing to lose, so he took a deep breath and searched for you in the crowd. Tate made his way past people as they pushed him to the left and to the right. It felt weird to be seen, to be touched. He found you circled by people asking questions about the house. Was it haunted? Were there ghosts? All of which you answered with a simple “No.”.

“Of course there aren’t any ghosts, I’m keeping them away from you.” Tate thought. Since he was too nervous to actually take a few steps and start a conversation with you, he figured he’d get some punch, just to loosen up a bit. He walked towards the punch bowl, and as soon as he reached to grab a cup, his hand met yours. You both grabbed the same solo cup.

“Sorry! You can have it.” You giggled as you let him take the cup. Tate blinked a few times, eyes locked to your bright smile, before grabbing the cup and filling it up. “Be cool, Tate. Don’t mess it up.” He thought.

“Uh. So…this is your party, right?” He gulped, eyes darting around the house as if he didn’t know every single inch of it by heart.

“Yes! Thought it would’ve been fun to host a party in a so-called Murder House. Plus, this house is giant, it gets lonely after some time…You live near here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.” You smiled.

“Oh…yeah. My name’s Tate. I live nearby.” Tate’s eyes trailed upon your figure, he had never been able to see you from so close. You simply nodded, sipping from your cup. He cleared his throat.

“You know…I used to live in this house.” He added nonchalantly, trying so hard to sound interesting.

“Really?! No way!” Your giggles rang in his ears.

“Mhm. You probably noticed some of my things still laying around in my bedroom. No one has stepped in since I last did.” He nodded.

“Oh, do you wanna see? Maybe there’s something you left that you want back.” You replied, slightly raising your voice so that it could be heard over the music.

“I uh-There’s no need t-” He was interrupted by you grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs anyways. You opened the door of the bedroom and kicked out a couple that was making out on your bed.

“Ugh!! I should’ve locked the door!” You exclaimed, closing the door behind you two. Tate looked around, some of your things were laying around, but it was mostly all his.

“Dude you left everything here!” You giggled. Tate forced out a chuckle, everything was of course still there, since he ‘lived’ there normally and never moved.

“Yeah, uh…Guess I left in a hurry.” He muttered awkwardly and grabbed some of his Nirvana CDs.

“There they were…!” He pretended as if he didn’t just play them everyday before you came.

“CDs? Didn’t you use an IPod or something?” You gave him a confused look.

“Oh uh…no, I prefer CDs.” He nodded, as if he knew what an IPod was.

“You don’t use your phone?” You asked, raising up your glowing box.

“No, I…don’t have one.” He gulped.

“Damn, how do you handle that? I could never live without Tumblr or Instagram.” You chuckled.

“...Yea, um…just not my thing, y’know?” He cleared his throat, trying his best to change the subject.

“Oh, yea. I’ve met some people like that. I envy y’all, y’know? Tumblr’s literally addicting to me. Can’t help it though, love when people comment nice stuff and see you as inspiring, y’know?” You chuckled, sitting down on his your bed.

“Uh…can’t really relate. I’ve always been pretty invisible.” He shrugged.

“Oh…you don’t seem so bad. I like the whole grungy vibe.” You grinned, pointing to his outfit.

“Oh- uh…thank you.” He hoped it was a good thing to be ‘grungy’...or whatever you said.

“Yea, looks good on you. Doesn’t really fit me tho.” You giggled.

“You’d look gorgeous in anything.” Was what Tate wanted to say, but he didn’t wanna push his luck too far, so he just forced a shy chuckle.

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

You spent something like 30 minutes just laughing and getting to know each other while laying on the bed. During this whole time, he couldn’t help but think about how breathtaking you were: your smile, your eyes, your body, your personality, your whole being. You were perfect. Perfect for him. He found himself to be completely mesmerized by you, he needed you to be his, he needed you to make him feel loved, alive. He wondered how you did it, how ever since the first second you spent next to him, his heart started beating for the first time since he died. His body felt warm, his skin didn’t feel so cold anymore, he started breathing again. He was addicted to this feeling, so he did the only reasonable thing he would’ve done if he was actually alive, he gently grabbed your cheek and pressed his lips against yours. Everything felt just better after he kissed you, as if after that whole hell he had been through he finally reached paradise. He felt even more surprised when you kissed back, your lips moving in sync with his. He moved to lay on top of you, balancing his weight so he didn’t crush you, his lips never leaving yours as his fingertips danced across your body. His tongue slipped in your mouth, swirling around yours in a passionate dance. He let out some deep throaty groans, he felt his desire grow as it coursed through his veins. He needed to feel you, so he deepened his kisses. When you moved your lips down on his jaw and then his neck, he almost lost it. He felt embarrassed for moaning so much and basically becoming a mess under your touch, but he relaxed as soon as he felt your lips curling up in a smile against his skin. He moved on to devour your neck, grinning as he felt you moan now. His hands gripped every inch of your body.

“You’re so…beautiful…” He mumbled against your skin, grabbing your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. He looked up at you while tugging at your shirt, silently asking for consent to peel it off of you.

“You can take off whatever you want...” You winked, giving him a cute smile. He immediately peeled off both his and your clothes, groaning at the sight of your body. His lips worked hungrily on your collarbone, leaving marks that will most likely turn into hickeys the next day, then placed kisses on the valley between your breasts, a tiny whine leaving him when his fingers failed at desperately trying to undo the clasp of your bra.

You giggled and helped him, throwing your bra somewhere on the floor. He immediately took one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling gently while looking up at you with those brown puppy eyes of his. You smiled and twirled a strand of his blonde locks between your fingers, soft moans escaping your lips. He kept switching between sucking your left then right nipple, his hand groping the one he wasn’t attacking with his mouth. He felt himself getting harder as he felt the warmth radiating from your body, so while his mouth worked wonders, he desperately brushed his growing bulge from under his boxers on your leg. He let out some needy whines, and he couldn’t help but mutter sweet words against your skin as he lowered down to trail kisses on your tummy.

“So perfect f’me…” His words came out muffled as he trailed his kisses down, pressing his lips against your inner thigh and then on the fabric of your panties. You moaned when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling it down, as his lips immediately worked on your clit.

“Ah…just like that Tate…don’t stop…” You moaned when he started to suckle gently, soft whines leaving his mouth as well. As he got more needy himself, his mouth lowered on your entrance, his tongue gently brushing against your wet folds, finally entering you after teasing you a slight bit. What you felt was pure bliss, unholy sounds leaving your lips every time his tongue sped up. When you looked down, you found Tate looking up at you with those brown doe eyes from between your legs, as he worked his magic. The sight only drove you to the edge, your moans getting louder as you came on his face. He groaned and cleaned you up with his tongue, making sure not to miss any single droplet of your cum.

“So good…you taste so fucking good…” He moaned into your ear, pressing wet kisses on your neck and collarbone.

“Wanna be inside of you…please? please let me…” He whined while rubbing his hard dick against your flesh. You nodded and just like that he didn't waste any more time, he abruptly pulled his boxer down, groaning as the cold air hit his shaft, and lined up with your entrance. While you were still coming down from your high after the intense orgasm, Tate pushed his dick inside of you slowly, moaning uncontrollably once he felt your tight walls clenching around him. You were relieved that this encounter happened when you threw a party, or every single soul nearby would’ve heard the throaty groans and moans leaving his lips.

“Mh…tight…so tight…so pretty-can I move please? I’ll be- ah…I’ll be careful-please-” He whined against your neck, as his blonde strands caressed your face gently. You agreed, and just like that he was thrusting in and out of you, first slowly, then at a steady pace. The room was filled with filthy moans, yours and his, and the repetitive sound of skin against skin, as your sweaty bodies were sliding one against each other. He felt like he was going insane as his mind couldn't help but focus on you and you only. Every moment was more pleasurable and he felt like he was closer and closer, so he muttered in your ear, still thrusting into you.

“Close…so close…don’t think i’m gonna last-ah…longer…please please please…want you to cum too…” He babbled as his brain turned into mush.

“Ah-! Mhm…m’close too…” You breathed out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten even more.

“Please-mh…cum on my dick? yeah? wanna feel you..please…” He whimpered, he felt like he couldn’t contain his upcoming orgasm. You couldn’t even respond as the repetitive brushing of his tip against your G-spot drove you to the edge. Letting out a loud moan, you came for the second time while he was still inside of you. That caused Tate’s eyes to roll back, his groans only filling the room as the feeling of your cum dripping on his length and your walls squeezing it, was too much to bear. He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, then he collapsed next to you.

He spent the next moments cuddling up against you, thinking about everything. His hands were playing with your hair, and when he looked down he found your eyes closed and your breath steady. He smiled at the sight, wanting every night of his afterlife to end like this and determined to make that happen. He kept placing sweet kisses on the top of your head, while he wondered how he was gonna explain to you that he died before Tumblr even existed.

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @doll3tt33 @marchsfreakshow @fear-is-truth @dykejugheadjones @happy74827 @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind @brightanshiny

a/n: rahhhh tate's such a loser needy boy. BTW spent sm time on this fic, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out!! hope you like it! this is for my tumblr girlies🩷

#Spotify #tate langdon #american horror story #ahs murder house #evan peters #ahs fandom #kyle spencer #violet harmon #james patrick march #kai anderson #taissa farmiga #ahs hotel #ahs asylum #ahs coven #ahs freakshow #2014 tumblr #smut #evan peters x reader #tate langdon x reader

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eggfriedricedwasian · 20 days ago

Text

Styles the Batfam wears:

Alfred- He wears his butler suit everywhere. He refuses to wear anything other than his suits. The inky exceptions are on Christmas when he wear a festive sweater... over top his suit.

Bruce- Old money. Tuxes, turtlenecks with blazers, chains, watches, loafers, slacks. That sort of stuff.

Kate- Her entire closet consists of different tank tops and jeans. She has plenty of blazers, flanels. button ups, and jackets to go over top but that's it.

Selina- Bodycon and fitted. All of her clothes are fitted and dark colors. Nothing she wear will not not hug her curves. She also has plenty of jewelry and bets and other stuff to accessorize with.

Dick- 80s fashion and everyone hates it. No further comments. Also loafers. Sneakers if need be.

Jason- He wears sweaters and jeans in the winter and plain regular T-shirts and cargo shorts in the summer. He has his boots.

Cass- Plain colors styled blouse t-shirts. Like the ones with the slit in the back or the ones with cross loop sort of thing in the front. Leggings all the time unless it's winter then she wears slouch jeans. She always wears her Vans.

Steph- 70s fashion with the flared leggings and button ups or the TikTok New York influencer fashion with the mini high waist pleated leather skirts with dark tights underneath, knee high leather boots, leather jacket, and either a bandeau or cropped spaghetti strap with big bold jewelry, also a bandana on her head. Plus her long wavy hair.

Tim- Skater boy and occasional emo/scene. He only wears suits for work and nothing else. He deffo has piercings he hides to keep appearance, but piercings with skater/emo/scene none the less

Duke- Hip Hop. Streetwear. No more, no less. He has a gang, why wouldn't he wear that.(It might be stereotypical but idk I js feel he would wear that)

Damian- A mix between Jason and Bruce. Old money with the turtleneck sweaters and jeans or slacks, but he doesn't tuck his shirts in. The older he gets the more he switches to streetwear, probably techno streetwear I feel

#dc #tim drake #batfam #bruce wayne #batfam headcanons #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #selina kyle #kate kane

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sushirrrry · 1 year ago

Note

would love to see a blurb about best friend harry thinking yn’s boyfriend doesn’t deserve her and accidentally confesses his feelings for her

bound a harry styles one-shot blurb; 7.2k words cw: fluff fluff and more fluff

When Harry had booked this trip, there were three things that he was looking forward to.

One of them was the open bar that their friends—the new Mr. and Mrs. Moxley—would be providing to them, which would include a couple gin and tonics too many.

The second was the beachfront room that he had scored from the credit card points he had expertly racked up the past few months, especially for this trip to Barcelona for his friend’s wedding. He thought he had scored a pretty good deal.

The third was seeing Cassidy for a weekend straight.

While the two of them lived in the same city, they were walking different paths at the moment, which had never been them. There were nights that they met for dinner, almost like nothing had changed. But Harry lived in South London; he had been working long nights in the museum, Cassidy was on the opposite side of the city working at her accounting position she had taken recently.

Both hadn’t had each other’s undivided attention in quite some time, and Harry was looking forward to the possibility of having that again. The kind of attention, the kind of laughs and indescribable joy that they had both needed—he was sure of it.

If there was one thing that he knew about Cass, it was that she was sprinting on the plane to get the vacation she had been looking forward to.

Plus, neither of them had a plus-one this time around.

That meant that it was just the two of them, and Harry couldn’t help but smirk every time he thought of it. Undivided attention.

Harry had thrown on a linen suit for the welcome party; the night before the wedding. He had started to unpack his room, trying to pass the time before he knew that Cass would arrive. Once he heard a buzzing on his phone, his head lifted from looking down into his suitcase and towards the device on the duvet.

If there was one thing Harry was going to do on his vacation, it was unpack the entirety of his suitcase before doing anything else.

iddy: smyf

The small acronym ‘show me your fit’ made him smile before he noticed a few more texts rolling in, the dots precursing them on the phone.

iddy: for tonight, not right now. I should have clarified. Please don’t send a pic of your penis

iddy: someone has to make sure I’m not overdressed. How do you dress for a pre-wedding dinner

The panic over the texts was exactly how Harry knew Cassidy; she worried over small things but overlooked the bigger picture. It was a small, miniscule flaw, really.

But before he’s able to even move towards the large mirror in his bathroom, his phone vibrates again. His attention is grabbed by the way that his eyes move over the image that comes in, rather than the words he had been reading from her.

And something about it made him stop in his tracks on his own way to show her what he had looked like.

Something about the way that she held the phone up to the mirror, giving a small pout—a playful one, as if unsure of herself. The way that the wisps of her hair were around her face, but the rest was pulled back by a clip—he was certain of it. She didn’t like having her hair down if she could help it.

Harry swallowed in the comfort of the room, almost like he was trying to keep himself from getting caught in the moment, even when no one was around. His eyes flew over the soft baby blue of the dress, the way that it dipped down, just a bit.

The way that the color danced over her tanned skin; maybe even a bit red from the sun he was certain that she had taken apart in as soon as they hopped off the plane. Harry knew that she bathed in the sun whenever it came out in London; she wouldn’t have gotten burned there, though.

There were dainty cream flower details—maybe stitching, even—on the dress as he zoomed in to get a better look at it.

His thumb cruised over the message, writing out a message before he pressed send.

Harry: good thing you told me not to send you a pic of my penis! Was about to!

Harry: also, you look beautiful, c

He frowned when she sent another message.

iddy: ok but am I overdressed

Harry: no, see

Harry held his phone up to the mirror as she had done to him—as they had done for one another many times before. But something about the way he looked in it bothered him for a moment. He fixed his hair, running his hand through it, almost to make sure that it looked much better than usual. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit before he sent the picture through to her.

The cream suit was opened, a white shirt settled underneath it. He wore a pair of his favorite white sneakers that fit like a glove, even a bit scuffed—but he felt that that balanced the outfit.

When he sent the photo, he waited a moment for Cass to send something back. But it felt like the longer he stared, the more pressure he felt to not see the grey dots coming back on the screen.

He bit the inside of his lip, waiting patiently before he locked the phone and slid it down into his pocket.

Instead of worrying about that, Harry checked his watch to see that it was closing in on six-thirty– which meant that he was fashionably late to the six o’clock time for the dinner.

He spritzed a bit more cologne, checked his teeth in the mirror, and pushed the bunches of curls off of his forehead that he meant to get cleaned up before coming on this trip but simply losing track of time.

He grabbed his wallet– hoping to not lose it or need it– and walked out of the hotel room door, down towards the lobby where he figured everyone would be gathering. He figured he'd take the long way, walking through some groups of people until he saw a grand staircase to lead down into the lobby area.

Harry figured that he would walk that way, down towards the main area where some familiar faces had collected for cocktail hour and drinks. His eyes maneuvered around, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Cass in any capacity.

Walking down the stairs, he saw Mari and Logan– the bride and groom– and greeted both of them accordingly. Mari and Harry had worked together back at uni, so they had become close friends. There may have been a night or two when Harry and Mari actually went home together, but they chalked that up to some consensual stress release.

When she started dating Logan, they started to hang around everyone more– which then included Cassidy. They would all go out together to the pubs after classes and had become really great friends since then. It was no surprise that this kind of event would bring them all together again.

“Have you guys seen Cass yet?” Harry asked, looking around. “I haven't seen here since she got here. She texted me but didn't get a response.”

Mari looked at him a bit suspiciously before turning to Logan for a moment. “Didn't you guys RSVP together?”

Harry looked up at her for a moment, shaking his head.

“No– I mean, no, I didn't respond with her name or anything. Did she do that for me?” He had thought that he marked one salmon meal and that was it.

Mari bit her lip as she blinked at him a few times. “No, but she RSPV’d a plus one, I think. Or she said something a few months ago– it's a bit fuzzy, but she told me she was coming with someone else. I– I mean, I was certain it would be you.”

Harry’s smile faltered just a bit before he shook his head, the hands in his pockets had turned to fists as he turned to look around him. Wondering if he'd lay eyes on her or watch her holding hands with another guy.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen that before, but the excitement of seeing her for the first time in a while was slowly dwindling before he turned his head for what felt like the millionth time looking for her.

But this time, his vision landed on her. The rosy colored glasses that he saw her threw was starting to dim as the picture got a bit blurry.

The baby blue dress that fell just below her knees, the dip in the front. The silky material hung on her body, but his eyes stood on the hand that hand firmly on her waist as if to keep her tucked into him.

His greatest fears becoming reality as he looked up the girl giggling at a probable reasonable remark.

Cassidy took a break from her schoolgirl giggling to see Mari and Logan standing there, looking at her and the person practically wrapped around her. But when looked up to see that Harry had also been standing right there, a sudden course of fear trembled through her.

Fear was a strong word; worry was more like it.

She had known how Harry was, which is why she kept this a secret from him. Now, he was forced to get to know her boyfriend of three months because they were here on their own accord for a weekend. They would spend it together, having each other in their lives for a weekend. That's what he had requested, and what she could agree to.

He had promised her that– even if he hadn't realized that had included this moment right here, yet.

“Hi, guys!” Cass put on her smile, a gorgeous one that pushed the dimples on her chin forward. “Mari, you look so beautiful!”

The girls wove into a hug, Harry standing and staring at the man who had let Cassidy go– looking a bit as if he was uncomfortable at letting someone else touch her. His eyes stayed on them as Cassidy pulled back and moved onto Logan, congratulating them on the whole marriage thing.

It was like she was taking a moment before she would get to him. She looked at Mari’s ring, gushing about how beautiful it was and she beautiful she looked.

Her eyes reached Harry’s then, a sheepish smile on her face before she pushed her arms out to wrap her arms around him, one over his shoulder and the other around his ribs.

“It's so good to see you.” She commented; he wanted to say something back but the comfort of her made his face retreat into the slot of her shoulder and neck.

When they pulled away, he got a real look at her and gave her the smile she had been waiting to see.

“So glad you're here.” He told her before feeling like a blush had intermittently taken its place in his cheeks.

Their connection had faded a moment before she paused; she took a breath and stepped back before remembering the man who stood behind them.

“Guys, this is–“ She looked up at him, “This is Dalton. We've been seeing each other for a few months, and just thought it would be so good to introduce him here since we're all here.”

Harry had to try to remember to release the fists in his pocket before he would go to shake his hand.

“Dalton, this is Mari and Logan– the bride and groom,” She introduced, letting him shake their hands and give their respective hello’s, followed by congratulations and thanks. But then she turned to Harry, Dalton’s composure changing a moment before he watched Harry’s change too.

Cassidy felt small between them as she stares at the way they faced one another.

“Uh, Dalton, this is my friend, Harry. Harry, this is Dalton.”

Harry lets one of the sides of his face turn up in a smile before he reaches out to be the better person. “Best friend, actually. Nice to meet you.”

Cassidy looks at Harry, almost giving him a really?

The grip of the man’s hands together feels tense as Dalton gives him a courtesy, “Nice to meet you, too.”

As Cassidy watches the interaction, she notices that the way that Harry stands is taller and fuller—like he’s trying to prove to Dalton that he’s bigger, he’s better—that he could end him in a moment’s notice, if need be. She holds onto Dalton’s arm, practically pulling the man from his trance with trying to overthrow Harry’s dominance.

“Let’s get a drink, shall we?” She offers, giving Harry another grin before Cassidy and Dalton makes their way over to the bar area.

Harry watches tentatively before he notices that Logan and Mari are also a bit in shock by the interaction and the couth that Cassidy had to bring someone into this sacred space, once again. Harry knew how Cassidy felt most days about herself—she looked for the satisfaction of a partner, the confidence boost that having someone on her arm could bring her.

It was reassuring to Harry to think that she could go into a room by herself; owning the space and knowing who she was. That was what he was hoping for in this interaction, but instead, she had to enter with someone else.

And with that, came the idea that the men that Cassidy picked always had a knack for making her the jealous type. Harry could always tell that her reactions became much more aggressive, her body language becoming possessive.

Cassidy wanted to feel like she was the most special girl in the world, and somehow, Harry was always left picking up the pieces of her tortured, stomped on heart after the last guy had decided that she wasn’t good enough. What the men in Cass’ life failed to see, was that her heart was always borrowed, on loan. It was never theirs to keep, because they never nurtured it or regarded it in any sense.

Her kindness had been taken from granted, her will to give was always overused and spent.

Harry knew that his love for Cassidy ran deeper than the deepest oceans, and wider than the largest forests, but something inside of him knew that they were better off as friends. Maybe it was because she was smart, and he figured she would have figured it out by now; the way he looked at her overruled the way he would ogle art painted on canvas, or sculptures tall and mighty.

He was always there with a rose and a smile, standing outside her door after the last guy packed his belongings and left for good.

It was why watching her happy, standing by the bar without a care in the world broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew that he was always there to rescue her, and he could see by the way that the guy stood away from her—maybe even trying to get a glimpse of the other women around him. But Cassidy’s naivety kept her eyes locked on the man instead, her irises shaped like hearts.

Mari and Logan had started a new conversation with another few people, Harry stood with his hands in his pockets as he tried to figure out a course of action. He had figured that the night would be wasted away—quite literally and figuratively—with Cassidy by his side, but now he felt more alone than he had before.

A man with champagne on a tray walked by, and Harry grabbed two flutes. One for each hand. He downed one quickly before he made his way back to the bar where the two of them had been standing before setting one of the glasses down and keeping the other before he noticed that Cassidy had grabbed a glass of red wine—Cab Sav, most likely.

The man—Dalton—held a short, rocks-glass that just had something clear in it, possibly straight vodka, if he was brave.

“So, you really didn’t bring anyone? Haven’t met anyone yet? You’ve usually grabbed a few asses by now,” Cassidy spoke out, moving around Dalton to get closer to Harry. He turned his attention back to her, shaking his head a few times.

“No—I mean, I thought we were just going to hang out. I didn’t know you were bringing someone.” Harry’s eyes flicked up towards Dalton’s before he watched Cassidy bite her lip. The red on her lips had either been from the stain of the wine or the way she bit on her lip; either way, Harry found it to be enticing enough to stare for a beat too long.

“I—I don’t know, I just assumed you would have brought someone with you. Weren’t you seeing someone?”

Harry took a sip from the flute, shrugging casually, “Yeah. But not like, exclusively.”

Cassidy nodded a few times, raising her brows, “Is it ever exclusive with you?”

There was a teasing tone in her voice, but the way that her eyes lifted to investigate his own only made his stomach drop at the intention. Harry felt an incredible sting through his chest as he cleared his throat, almost to wash away the sensitivity that he felt around his heart.

He went to speak, but his lips didn’t seem to let any words leave. Instead, the bartender interrupted as Harry realized that there may have been a small line forming behind them.

Harry, Cassidy, and Dalton moved to the side a bit—all three having their drinks in their hands before they found themselves in a circle of silence. Each taking sips of their drinks before Dalton seemed to make a move of conversation towards Harry, nodding at him.

“So, what do you do for a living, Harry?” He licked over his lips, a tight smile painted on his face before Harry could respond.

“I’m—uh, I’m an art curator. At a small art gallery in London.”

Cassidy chimed in, “Harry has great taste, actually. He’s put together some really great art expos and exhibits.”

“Hm,” Dalton hummed, “Where is the gallery? My parents host charity galas, and we are on the board at the National Gallery and the Portrait Gallery.” He chuckles a bit, “I assume you’re not curating there.”

Harry feels the way that his jaw tightens, almost an innate reaction to the way that the man puts him down. Harry pushes his shoulders back before lifting his head. Cassidy looks to Dalton, speaking on Harry’s behalf.

“N-No, it’s—” But she’s interrupted when Harry speaks, then.

“It’s neither of those, no. It’s a bit more modern, helping to lift unknown artists who are looking to make their way into the conversation, which I think it’s very important. Especially now, our worldview is so mirrored by adding such high value to art that never needed it to begin with—art shouldn’t have value like that, in my opinion.” He felt that his tongue had a bit of venom on it when he took a larger sip of the champagne, practically downing that one, as well.

Dalton nodded. “I see. Well, I assume that amateur art wouldn’t have a value like Michelangelo or Vermeer, would they? But I think it’s presumptuous to say that art doesn’t have value. Everything has a price.”

Cassidy took in a breath before she took a large sip of wine; her eyes went to Harry who almost seemed like he would explode at any moment.

“Most things don’t have a price. Nothing has a price, it’s all relative. We, as a society, added price so people of higher status could act like they were better than other people, when it was all a façade to just make them look a bit fancier with their pretty goldleaf vases and Vermeer’s. A Vermeer painting doesn’t hold value to me, anyways.”

Dalton nodded a few times, giving a mock toast to the man in front of him, before he looked down at Cassidy.

“Yeah, that’s quite obvious. Class isn’t a given, it’s inherited. You should see the types of people that try to get their hands on these gala tickets, as if it’s some sort of carnival they can just attend. Half of them don’t have two quid to rub together, and it’s just embarrassing at that point.”

Harry took a step forward before Cassidy realized that his expression meant one of anger. Her arm pushed him back a bit before Dalton recognized the move and his eyes held a gentle smirk of cockiness.

It sat in Cassidy’s throat as she felt the deflation of her confidence. The weekend she had been looking forward to being was diminished quick before her eyes, and all she could do was count on the glass of wine that hadn’t even really been filled halfway.

“What he means is, being exclusive is an honor, and you of all people should know that, I’m sure.” Her eyes drive up to him, and Harry looks at her with that same feeling of hurt that he had felt moments ago by the bar. Harry’s lips parted as he looked at her and felt the subtle sting of her accusation.

Whether or not she meant it as a jab, he wasn’t quite sure, but that didn’t make it hurt less.

“Excuse me, Cassidy,” Dalton chuckles with a hint of a mocking tone, “I can speak for myself, darling. No need to interrupt.”

In just that moment, Harry felt himself push against Cassidy’s arm that had been subtly holding him back with no force other than the small barrier of her shoulder. The small push sent Cassidy off balance, which in turn allowed the slosh of wine to knock around her glass.

“And who are you to talk to her like that?” Harry questioned; his eyes now centered on Dalton as his brow knit together. “Fuck off with that, will you?”

“Bloody hell,” Cassidy gasped out, her eyes dropping to the small amount of wine that covered the hardwood floor underneath them—small droplets of the red wine were coating the bottom of her dress; only enough for her to notice, really, but her eyes narrowed at the floor.

Harry and Dalton both turned to her then, Harry’s eyes dropping to the way that she held her dress up to get a bit of a better glimpse of the stain.

“Oh, fuck, Cass. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to do that. Hey, I’ll clean it up—” Harry moves towards her, his hand holding at her bicep to help keep her balance.

“Good work, mate.” Dalton eyed Harry, who felt the need to clench his fists again. He did so rather quickly, trying to get the feeling of anger to subside for the moment so that he could focus on Cassidy in the moment.

“It’s fine—really, I just want to make sure it doesn’t stain. I—let me go back to my room, I think I have a stain stick.” She lifts her head to look at before she starts to move out of the small space.

“Let me help,” Harry offers, starting to follow behind her. It feels like an opportunity to take—the two of them alone for just a moment so that he can gauge how she’s really feeling about Dalton and this whole situation. The first few minutes of him have Harry already written off, and he knows the type of person she needs to be with should never be one to talk over her.

“No—Harry, it’s okay, I’ve got it.” She says quickly before she feels Dalton’s hand on her, as if to help guide her.

“I can help, darling.” He tells her, “Don’t worry about it. We can buy you a new one, if it’s too bad.”

Harry rolls his eyes and practically gags at the way he speaks to her. As if Cassidy couldn’t buy her own, for herself. He watches as he feels that Cassidy may be a bit overwhelmed by the two of them staring at her, knowing that they’re both fighting for her attention and affection.

The look on her face suggests as such before she look at Harry and blinks a few times, noticing that he had started to back off a bit. Not that he really wanted to, but knowing her, she didn’t want all the attention on her at once.

Harry downed the rest of the champagne, leaving the flute on a small table before Cassidy knit her brows and shook her head. “Actually, Harry— can you help? Your mum’s stain trick always seems to work. I can’t remember, though.”

His eyes float to Dalton who seems a bit taken aback by her push to have Harry go up to her room with her instead.

Harry nods a few times, watching as Dalton goes to speak, but Cassidy reassures him. “I’ll be right back, okay? We won’t be long.” She hands the man her wine glass, only a quarter full now, as most of it had landed on the sandy wood floors.

It’s then that the two of them take off towards the elevator. Cassidy has a bit of a stomp in her step, almost like she’s making sure that her and Harry aren’t in direct line so he can’t speak to her. The fits of anger that bubble in her chest is unexplained as she goes to press the elevator button to go upwards. Her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at the way that the light changes to go upwards.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.” Cassidy speaks out, a bit quietly as if to just think her thoughts—not say them outwardly.

“C’mon, Cass, he's got the ego of a narcissist and the smile of a Kennedy, you really think a guy like this could be the love of your life? Honestly.” Harry hounded her as they entered the elevator. He reached for the button, but Cassidy was already there, pressing three.

“That's not fair, Harry, you don't know him.” She settled against the wall as she stared at the ceiling, feeling the movement before she held onto the railing behind her. “He’s extremely smart, he’s confident—he knows what he wants. Which I think you and him may not agree on.”

Harry stayed quiet for a moment before he looked back at her, knowing she wouldn’t look at him—but knowing that he had to say the words to her.

“But I know you.”

Cassidy shakes her head as if she’d heard that from him before. Something about the mixture of the two men felt familiar with many of the guys she had brought home, or brought to meet Harry, really. She couldn’t figure out if he just couldn’t understand that she was dating this guy—not just sleeping with him. They were forming a connection, but maybe Harry didn’t understand that.

Harry didn’t understand the concept of falling in love was possible, probably because she had never seen that happening. She had never seen Harry madly in love with someone; never seen his heart broken before. She didn’t know if that was a red flag or if that was a person choice that he didn’t allow for himself.

Either way, she wasn’t going to let him ruin her chances at finding it—no matter what his personal opinions were.

“So, why are you putting me through this? C’mon, no one is ever good enough for you. I never said I was going to marry the guy!”

The shuffle of them towards the door to the hotel room increases as Cassidy throws the key against the electronic pad to open the door. Harry follows in quickly behind as she throws her shoes off. Harry makes sure to avoid tripping and falling over them but knows diligently that she takes her shoes off every time she walks through her door—without fail.

He knew that.

“But why waste your time if you won't spend your life with him?” Harry questions, turning on the light in the foyer of the small room that Cassidy and Dalton were sharing. Harry’s eyes tried not to wander as he saw the unfamiliarity of the dark navy suitcase on the floor next to the TV.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t,” Cass answers a bit with a huff as she rustles through her own suitcase to try to find the detergent stick, she had forgotten to throw in her bag, “All I said was I wasn't sure if I would, maybe I will! Also, I can throw that question right back at you, Mr. One-and-Done.”

Harry stands with his hands in his pockets as he knits his brows together at her answer.

“I just don’t think he’s the one, Cass. That’s all I said. You don’t have to insult me, too.”

“No, Harry, that’s not all you said,” She retorts, “You rolled your eyes, you were a bit disrespectful, you—you started like,” She scrunches her nose when she comes back with the detergent stick in his hand as she sits on the edge of the bed. “You were like puffing your chest at him or something—like you were trying to prove a point. Just because he doesn’t share the same opinion as you, doesn’t mean he’s wrong, you know?”

Harry pursed his lips as she had walked by him, feeling that her entrance into the room gave him permission to follow. He didn’t want to pry into her life if he wasn’t invited to.

“I was not puffing my chest at him, that’s ridiculous.”

He took a seat next to her on the bed as she pulled the long dress up just to her knee to try and rub the stain stick over the red wine stain before she dropped the fabric in her lap.

“Yes, you were,” She tells him, “You do that whenever a guy gets too close, like you’re trying to scare them off or something, and it’s bullshit because you don’t even give them a chance.”

“Why would I give them a chance when I can obviously tell that they’re not good for you?”

Cassidy dropped the dress fabric in her lap as she sighed a bit louder, very obviously done with the back and forth where no one would win. Her head turned towards Harry, sitting next to her now. The way that her throat tightened when their eyes met almost immediately threatened her composure.

“You never give them a chance, Harry,” She tells him with honesty in her tone; wanting him to listen to her like he had never listened before. She knew that he was hard-headed, stubborn to say the least. But she knew that when he really knew she was serious, he would back down. “I just want to make this work, okay? He’s a good guy—I promise, he is. And he would make my life comfortable. He’s looking for a wife, a family. He’s looking to settle down. We’re thirty, Harry—I want to have these commitments, even if you don’t.”

“I don’t doubt he’s a good guy, Cass—really, I—” He stops himself as he thinks of all the people he’s made promise’s too over the years, over various occasions, and conversations that he would think back to whenever he caught a glimpse of the green eyes that laid on his now.

Her mum, Barbara. Her younger brother, Antonio. Her best girlfriend from uni, Annabelle.

But her dad, Tony, was the most important for him to honor—considering he knew that he left the planet wanting Cassidy to be in the best hands; he had gotten confirmation from Harry in their last conversation that he would never let someone hurt her. And was loved, there was a guarantee that she would be loved and cherished until the end of time.

There were people in her life that had always looked at Harry as a guide, whether they meant anything by it, but they knew that Harry knew Cassidy better than anyone in the entire world. He had known every detail of her life for the twenty-some years that they had been the best of friends.

But it had always just been there– the best of friends. Saying anything different could change the whole dynamic of what that was.

“What is it? Why do you always do this to me?”

“Why do I always do this to you?” Harry questioned, setting Cassidy back a bit. She stared at him before she felt the way that their connection seemed to have a sense of distance between them. “Cassy, I thought we were going to have a weekend just the two of us. Just like we had been talking about—you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long, we haven’t spent any time together recently. You’re right—we’re thirty now. Life is going to change, but I wanted to have at least one more time where it would just be the two of us to spend laughing and making fun of people like Walton.”

Cassidy fought so hard to not smile at the name Harry gave her date, “Fuck off, you know it’s Dalton.”

“Cass, it doesn’t matter what his name is.” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes, “What matters is that you always do this to me. You always insert this jackass as if to push him in my face and practically tease me with it. And what’s with all the jokes about me being exclusive?”

Cassidy feels her shoulders deflate, her eyes batting a few times before she shakes her head. “I just want you to find the right person, too, and maybe that would make you back from me and my choices just a bit. You think that I would treat a girl you dated like that? You think I would sit there and puff out my chest and try to make my boobs look bigger to make you look at me instead of her?”

Harry shrugs. “If you were jealous enough, I’d hope you would.” He goes to say something else but quickly shakes his head as if to not speak too much.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassidy tells him, her eyes giving a small up and down motion as she realizes how much space was between them now.

Harry stands up, his hands moving through his hair in a frustrated motion before he goes to stand in front of her at the end of the bed. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you see it? Just because I’m the one with the artistic eye doesn’t mean that I’m the only one who can see art, Cass. You know when we go to the galleries in new cities we travel to, and I really make you look at them? You glance at them and are like, ‘that’s a nice one’ or ‘that’s pretty’. No, I really want you to look at it—and then sometimes it makes you emotional because you can really see the way that the artist has manipulated his wrists to make the kinds of strokes that the brushwork is, or the way that the divot in the sculpture is supposed to look like it’s a flaw, but it’s intentional? And that what you didn’t see before, because you were just glancing, is really there all the time?”

Cassidy looked at Harry who was standing in front of her, his eyebrows knit and his face practically begging for her to see him. He’s begging her to recognize this game that he had been playing wasn’t a game at all, it was just a matter of time. It was a matter of wanting her to see what they could be so that he didn’t have to spell it out.

He didn’t want to push her, but he wanted her to see it for herself. First and foremost, he wanted her to want it as much as he had.

“All I’m seeing is that you’re painting me out to be the bad guy here. All you do cycle through girls like a manic—you’re sleeping with one, you’re stringing one along. You think that’s supposed to entice me?” She asks quaintly, a bit quietly as she shakes her head, looking at Harry who seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head as he takes in a deep breath to try and get to a level of calmness that fits his demeaner.

“No, Cass! I just wanted you to see how in love with you I am!” The words that leave his mouth are practically begging, but they leave a sour silence in the room as Cassidy is taken by the tone Harry’s voice; his hands resting on his hips as he finishes the pacing he had been doing.

“Cassidy,” Harry swallowed down the lump that had been sitting in his throat, his voice practically faltering as he shook his head, trying so badly to get through to the words he had been looking for. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. They were never there to stay, okay? That’s why I didn’t look for exclusivity— it was never theirs. I was saving every ounce of my love and my time and my affection for you, and you never reached out to take any of it.”

Her silence hits her for a moment as she sits with her wine-stained dress in her lap on the white, linen sheets before she watches the man in front of her professing all the love and needs to her. She doesn’t feel like she can speak, but her eyes drift down to her lap as she feels all the sudden unable to find the words at all.

“Look—I’m sorry, I—I just can’t see you being with someone like this. And it physically hurts me to see you heartbroken when I know,” Harry pulls his lips into his mouth as he puts his hands on his hips, “I know that guy is going to fucking annihilate you. You’re going to fall in love with him, and he’s going to take it all and run with it. And there I’ll be, standing there, waiting for you to realize what’s been waiting for you this entire time. It’s just bound to happen.”

Cassidy sits with her hands in her lap, chewing on her lip as she feels the threatening of tears to spill from her eyes. She doesn’t understand the overwhelming feeling of the man’s words as she shakes her head, a sad chuckle leaving her throat as she looks up at him.

“He ordered me a pinot noir tonight,” She nods, “Told me that it was the best wine he’d ever had before.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he doesn’t know that you exclusively drink Cab Sav from a box, no matter what, unless you’re celebrating something big, then it’s a discounted bottle of Dom Perignon from that Lombardi’s store down from your flat,” Harry tells her with a scoff, almost like it had been a test to prove that he knew her better than anyone in the world did.

And Cassidy knew that he did, but the validation that he showed only made her tear fall with the knowledge that he didn’t just listen—he remembered, he supplied this vision of her and this want for her that didn’t come with rules or expectations.

Harry just saw her.

And in a world where you want to be seen, Cassidy just fought to be glanced at. She fought for the spot in someone’s eye, but when she thought that Harry only had eyes for art, she couldn’t have imagined what he had seen in her this entire time.

“Yeah,” Cass nodded, “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Harry shook his head, looking at the ground as he started to feeling heaps of embarrassment but knowing that the awkward silence in the room was there to stay for a few more minutes at least. “I’d never order you a fucking pinot noir.”

Cassidy nods a few more times before she looks at the stains on the dress, knowing that it’s stained for good. That the stain stick won’t work anymore but knowing that it’s sometimes okay to have something marked, in the case that you wanted it to stick around forever.

Her heart felt like it had been borrowed and bruised but watching as Harry stared down at her only made it flutter as if trying to come back from the dead.

There were three things that Cassidy had been looking forward to this week—when she had originally booked the trip, that is.

One of them was to have a large glass of Cab Sav and sit on the balcony with Harry and laugh at the way that the people were pummeled by the waves; they always got too brave and then would be smashed down by the force of the water.

The second was to be able to dance. The dancing at the weddings always made her feel like she had been letting go of every ounce of worry and detrimental work email that she had received since the last time she was dancing at a wedding. It usually felt like a cleanse.

The third was to watch people fall in love. To watch people and see that their forever was right in front of their eyes and to confirm every moment of it with vows and unspeakable glances that felt like a bound contractual agreement.

As Cassidy stood in front of Harry now, her dress a mess of stain and wet, detergent marks, her eyes searched his for a moment before she looked up at him, with a different set of eyes, this time.

They were colored in a way that felt extraordinarily bright, like she had woken up from the darkest slumber. The mask of uncertainty was laying on the floor as she felt his hands lift her jaw to look at him, his feet taking a step forward.

“I think they say this at weddings,” He squinted at her, the line of a smirk coating his face as he kept his words quiet. Her hand moved up to hold his wrist as she bit on her lip softly, feeling the way that their lips tried to find one another—slow, encapsulated by an intense amount of tension, “’Speak now, or forever hold your peace’?”

The silence between them spoke for itself.

Harry pulled her forward, not rushed, but certainly not waiting a second longer. His lips attached to hers in a way that felt every single day of the last twenty years; the kiss that could have lasted the rest of his life without a doubt in his mind.

It was what was bound to happen all along; there just had to be a few frogs before the real prince revealed himself.

Well, that’s what Harry told himself, anyways. Cassidy would just roll her eyes, but knew that at the end of the day, it had always been him.

Exclusively him.

#harry styles x original character #harry writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluffy #harry styles au #harry styles #wattpadwriter #wattpad #harry wattpad #harry styles fanfic #ask #hs #harry styles fanfiction #anon ask #blurb writing #writing blurb #bound

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0-n-1-x · 6 months ago

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hii! i just found your blog and it looks so cool! i was wondering since you write for shameless, could i please have some headcanons of carl (perhaps white boy carl but any carl is fine) with a chubby/plus size girlfriend who’s really sweet, nerdy, shy and feminine? like she wears a lot of pinks, pastels, sweaters and bows, basically the exact opposite of what people think carls type is. if you don’t wanna write about the body type that’s totally ok, thank you so much! sorry if i wrote too much😭

WBC!Carl x Cutecore!reader

AHHHH!! I love this idea live opposites attract, by what you described I'm thinking of a cutecore/softie aesthetic (no you did not write to much tysm!!)

link to my masterlist <33

Carl who is initially surprised by your cutecore aesthetic, with your pastel colors and cute accessories, but he quickly finds it endearing. He loves how different you are from the Southside vibe and how you bring a burst of color into his life.

Carl who is fiercely protective of you, especially when he notices people giving you judgmental looks. He’s always ready to defend you, whether it's with his words or with his fists, and he makes it clear that anyone who disrespects you will have to answer to him (which isn't always as intimidating as he thinks but you patch him up with kisses for trying)

Carl who is surprisingly good at giving you compliments. He loves how confident you are in your style, and he’s always quick to tell you how cute you look, whether it’s in a new outfit or just lounging in your favorite oversized sweater.

Carl who starts to get into the idea of matching accessories with you. It starts with something simple, like wearing a pastel-colored bracelet you gave him, and eventually, he’s rocking a cute charm on his phone or a keychain you picked out for him. When his group calls him out on it, he's like "ok so? I like to be pretty sometimes" because he associates that stuff with your beauty <33

Carl, who being with you brings out his softer side. He might still be tough on the outside, but around you, he’s more willing to let his guard down. He enjoys cuddling with you, playing with your hair, or just holding your hand/waist while you walk around the city.

Carl who admires your confidence and how you own your look. He’s always supportive and encourages you to be yourself, especially when people make rude comments. He loves how unapologetically you embrace your style and body.

Carl who surprises you with small gifts that fit your aesthetic, like a cute plushie, a pastel-colored hoodie, or a pair of earrings with tiny charms (all of which he totally didn't steal). He likes seeing your face light up when he gets it just right.

Carl who loves showing you off to his friends, especially because you’re so different from anyone he’s ever dated. He’s proud to be with you and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. If anyone gives him a hard time, he just shrugs it off because he knows he’s lucky to have you.

Carl who is always there to support you, whether you’re dealing with body image issues or just having a bad day. He listens when you need to vent, and he’s quick to remind you how amazing you are, inside and out.

Carl who loves finding common ground with you. Whether it’s bonding over a shared love of certain music or discovering new hobbies together, he enjoys learning more about your world and introducing you to his. <33

#shameless #shameless fanfiction #carl gallagher x reader #carl gallagher #carl gallagher x plus size!reader #carl gallagher x y/n

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sugar-petals · 21 days ago

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Hi again caro 🌟 you know how cillian murphy is being compared to yoongi and vice versa (they share aries/ashwini placement in their big 3 in vedic ), the ketuvian eye / deadpan look but actually being softies on the inside . Plus cillian's face is 100%female and 100% male got me wondering if he's a classic type (same amount of yin /yang) or maybe a gamine like yoongi cause that man always looks young ! Thanks !

cillian's kibbe type | analysis

i endlessly deliberated on his image ID way before, too, he's such a tough case — but hear me out: i'm nominating soft classic.

TR and FG being his only other options of highly androgynous types imo. i'll narrow it down ("crossing out" method, below) maybe we can find some consensus. so:

he consistently dresses pure classic off the screen, at least that i am sure of. symmetrical, standard tailoring, mid-contrast colors. goes in the right direction. well-fitted, puts emphasis on his face. not THE spectacular outfit, sometimes too stark, but pure classic works for his body shape. reversely, C does not fit pure romantics and all naturals because of their rounded/blunt shoulders bulking out the sharp edge. but for cillian, the standard tux, easy. the more dapper, the better for him.

CROSSING OUT: R, FN, SN, N. (9 possible types left!)

2. now, he got famous for characters that dress dramatic classic (peaky blinders, scarecrow, oppenheimer...), but i think those lines are too long/drowning from a distance and without movie magic. yes, the warm tone of the right coat contributes as clashing since he's cool-toned. but proportion-wise, and at 5'7, all yang-dominant types disqualify for him anyway. too large, wide, boxy.

CROSSING OUT: D, SD, DC. (6 possible types left!)

3. then again, cillian being such a renowned classic dresser and directors agreeing says something. nolan always shows him as a C! it is his thing. but: we have to accommodate that cillian's not in a yang height range, and an androgynous face calls for androgynous fashion. put him in a masculine-coded Natural styling (scruffy beard, loose outfit & hair, bulky fabric), it's a disaster. proves how we crosses out N for him early. it needs more yin.

4. puzzlingly... he can do some dramatic lines, even as a smaller guy. that means he's either TR, or an FG, or some classic that can handle a tailored silhouette. Cs are notoriously style chameleons as long as a frame is kept. see my dilemma? 😭 it can go either way.

he looks awesome in that matrix-type dramatic ID fashion, hair sleek, colors dark, sharp edges. maybe he's a true winter or true summer, that's why D colors are fine with him. at least we can exclude pure gamine and soft gamine because they crave the line break and more pizzazz. pure C is also overwhelmed by anything that goes off balance. subtypes are more flexible.

CROSSING OUT: C, SG, G (3 possible types left!!)

finally, why are TR, FG, SC my top 3 picks? because they all combine shorter height with a mix of "feminine and masculine" essence/lines. he has to be among these 3.

5. i see why any gamine is a viable option generally, cillian being short. but i think it's too much for him to pull off, and people hardly perceive him as petite and cute and moon-faced. for yoongi, that's immediately obvious. most SGs have a face like a young romantic type. worlds apart from cillian's insane jaw/cheekbones.

cillian looks too sophisticated, mature, structured, sexual, otherworldly for SG. not sweet, baby-like, cute. classics age gracefully and especially "like fine wine" as well, it's not limited to G types. much like D becomes more dignified with age and truly grows into their severe, tall look, or N types gain even more rugged charm, etc.

style-wise... G color blocks, stripes, details, all seemingly turn him into someone else. the gamine hair chop is unflattering, too. patterns transform him into another person. gamine fashion is a mixed bag on cillian, while soft classic never misses.

CROSSING OUT: FG

6. cillian's height does say G or R, and yes i know, many type him TR. i could agree with it; but still, his figure isn't full/soft/fully rounded (R) or compact (G) enough in my opinion. TR does have some chiseled D characteristics like him, but you have to see softness and curve first, as with all romantics.

compare jimin or billy dee williams (R), such a different vibe! R and TR are sexiness machines. more rounded thighs, nothing works without waist emphasis, rounded chest area, figure 8 body, more rounded nose and romantic curls, the list goes on! cillian's body type is also short like that, but not as curve-dominant, but balanced (shoulders, legs, waist all line up and are straighter = balanced = classic).

question is, does cillian's extreme dieting interfere here so he's harder to type? styling-wise, i do think TR clothing is something else on him, but it steals the limelight or overdefines his face. i also feel like waist definition isn't 1000% paramount for him. plus, kibbe writes for TR: "Stiff fabrics, straight lines, and geometry are to be avoided at all costs!" — While Cillian easily dresses best in exactly that 😂 (WOW!)

imo TR also ages him unfairly, and all you look at is the ornaments, not him. soft classic is still a romantic-influenced subtype, yes, so it does flatter him, below is a memorable look, don't get me wrong. but it takes the focus. i only see how fantastic the garment is, while cillian is secondary, and his face is suddenly too stark, devoid of definition. it's too high glam. i wish we'd have more pictures of him dressing TR to compare, that might be another problem.

7. SC is the only type left to explain his mysterious looks. recap: he's successfully classic-dressed, has a yin height plus a face that combines yin and yang, his silhouette is balanced not curved, all his huge movie roles are C image typecastings, that's SC.

i do think the polished, soft, but shapely elegant character of this type is expressed in him. SC is a highly androgynous type for men, think ATEEZ yeosang. but SC men are so well-dressed in controlled hairstyles and very masculine period or past fashion, ironically, because the fabrics are soft, plush, symmetrical, and tailored. that definitely applies to cillian 10/10. his face simply pops.

cillian looks best dressed minimally, always symmetrical, slight wave in the hair, head to toe theme > mixing styles, understating, no color experiments, basics > overdressing, his signature for a reason. symmetrical coat plus soft woven fabric underneath sounds like it. puts the focus on him while at the same time being well-styled. he was born for timeless, subtle fashion.

and in general... who could dress classic so impactfully, anyways?

give this beautiful, stylish man every available award for what he does so well!

#cub mail 🐅#cillian murphy #peaky blinders #oppenheimer #christopher nolan #androgynous men #movies #kibbe body types #kibbe #kibbe types #can you tell i love cillian murphy... this man carries men and the movie industry #fashion #menswear

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braxlrose · 2 years ago

Text

childhood friends to lovers

tom x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (m and f!recieving), risky sex, hickies, etc.

• after you woke up in toms arms, he was awake. brushing his fingers through your hair and humming to you. you just stared up at him, while he was smiling at you.

• let's just say it ended up in some very intimate kissing. after that, you two became official. the fan girls were extremely upset, and you almost got jumped a couple times but Tom basically goes everywhere with you, so it wasn't a problem.

• toms relationship with you is very different from the relationship he had with other girls. you got to see sides of him that fangirls didn't get to see.

• tom got your name tattooed on his hands, something about "whenever I'm playing guitar, I'll think of you, blah blah blah." it was cute though

• when you two were just friends, he would go to the store and buy you pads/tampons. but now that he's your boyfriend. he goes ALL out. pads, tampons, chocolate, soda, chips, heating pad, rice sock, fast food. literally whatever you want, he will get it.

• makes you sandwiches all the time but it can be a 50/50 kind of thing. sometimes they're absolutely delicious and other times they're just disgusting 💀💀

• on stage, if you're doing a solo, he'll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you and kiss your neck. basically doing anything to tease the living he'll out of you.

• he tones out the flirting with fangirls because he doesn't want to make you feel bad and he just doesn't feel the need to do it anymore. he's totally infatuated with you now.

• you guys go schwimming together at pools and he puts you on his shoulders and schwims around.

• he carries you on his shoulders around set whenever you want. he also enjoys it because he can feel your "warmth" 😟

• is always holding your hand. he loves how much smaller your hand is and how it fits perfectly in his.

• I don't remember where I heard this, so I might be wrong. but I remember hearing something about tom liking taller girls (Heidi is 5'9 so) but he loves that he doesn't have to break his back just to kiss you.

• he tried to make you a cake for your birthday and actually did it. it looked awful, but it tasted amazing. plus it's the thought that counts 🥺

• you two give eachother massages all the time but toms a little shit and will make the timer go faster so your massage is way quicker than his 😒 like this but without Monica's horrible massage 😭

• buys you lingerie sets in your favorite colors and sits on your bed as you try them on for him

• bakes with you all the time and has so much fun. cookies, cakes, muffins, cupcakes. you guys make georg, gustav and bill try out everything you make.

• you guys have sex at least once a day if you're both into it. doesn't matter where bc he likes risk. closet, on set, in a public bathroom. literally almost anywhere. idk if this is true but tom once got caught doing on a train by his mom 😭

• he's more of a receiver than a giver but he still loves going down on you. but he can't help it that your blow jobs feel so fucking good. but he's a good boyfriend, so if you guys have time he'll go down on you after you've sucked him off.

• you guys have gotten caught having sex by georg, gustav and bill so many times you can't even count it on your fingers. there also have been times where tom doesn't stop fucking you even if they walk in.

• he's fingered you until the table before during interviews and finds it hilarious watching you try and hide your facial expressions. plus he can't go to fast or else everything will hear

• after sex, you basically have hickies everywhere. on your legs, thighs, stomach, back, ass, boobs, neck, E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E.

• tom is a boobs and ass guy. he loves leaving hickies on both of them and would suck on your tits all day if you could.

• he loves doggy style because he gets to watch your back arch and slap your ass. he always has one of his hands on your hip and the other rubbing harsh figure eights on your clit. he'll also pull at your hair and lean down to whisper dirty things in your ear.

• tom isn't a switch at all, even though some people think he is. which is why it's super hard for me to write sub tom. because he is a dom all the way. even when he isn't on top, he's always in control.

• he loves how sexy you look on top of him riding him. he's super fucking cocky, so he has his hands folded behind his head and is just laying there watching you bounce up and down on his cock.

• he'll only move his hands if he sees you faltering and you need help. but even then, he makes you beg for his help.

• but once you do, hid hands will be gripped to your hips and he's sat up now pulling you up and down his cock.

• he will face fuck you whenever you give him a blow job if you aren't going fast enough. bonus points if you don't have a gag reflex and then he can just feel his cock sliding down your throat with ease. (also am I the only one who gets extremely turned off by gagging? like the sound of it is totally gross idk why guys are turned on by it)

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles-deacti @saumspam @5hyslv7 @killed-kiss @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz @victryzvv9 @banshailey

@mikalame heres pt 2 for the dating hcs!

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fanfics #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz tokio hotel #tokio hotel tom kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #fluff #smut #tokio hotel edits #tokio hotel fanfics #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel tom kaulitz smut

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levemetal · 4 months ago

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Hi hello, I rushed this and I cannot be arsed to properly render this. I have other things to draw, many of them. But also. I really put too much effort into the flat of this that I kinda burned myself out LMAO

ANYWAY CALAMITY/GHOST KING SHEN JIU DESIGN. Take it, cherish him like I would. I wanted to dress him up like the pretty princess he is <3 Plus, ghost kings a la tgcf gotta slay in all categories so here we go. I'll ramble more about the more coherent thoughts I have but you can tear ghost king SJ from my cold dead hands. ٩( ᐛ )و

His motivations more becoming a ghost king/calamity are fairly straightforward if you're familiar with Shen Jiu and all the funky workings of his mind. It is to be stronger than everybody else and attaining a place that cannot be taken from him cause he has the power for it. So that no one else can have any power over him either.

However this also means that he does not necessarily have any grand plans of what to do with that power. I imagine he'd be a recluse, living off and alone somewhere hardly getting involved in the affairs of the living and gods etc.

If he does, I imagine it might more be in the style of killing slavers and otherwise bad men. Maybe a sort of brothel workers protector, getting rid of the most problematic and horrible clients? Let your imagination wander!

For a title? I have no clue man, I am not good enough at words for this. Something with green or teal as the color and leaves. That's how far I got.

Now the juicy stuff, POWERS. Leaves. Leaves and fans is the tldr version. I imagine he'd use the qi-infused leaves as in canon, just far more deadlier (probably) and conjured rather than just reliant on leaves off trees in the vicinity. For a weapon, if available (read: SY is not possessing SJ's OG body, or Xiu Ya was not obtained) I think he should get to keep Xiu Ya, or otherwise a blood weapon shaped after it. Tho if I had to give him a blood weapon a la Hua Cheng's E'ming, it would be a fan. The blades on it would likely be shift on, both an edge to cut with and places for darts to fly out. Otherwise in terms of weapons I could see daggers very well too for SJ. They'd suit him, as he could get in and get a quick stab or just throw them from afar. With his fighting style that likely has a lot of the ruthless tactics of his youth incorporated, I think it would fit just like a battle fan.

Otherwise, I do see him being a capable shapeshifter, or some sort of abilities to stay in the shadows undetected. If he needs some sort of animal or communication/surveillance skill associated with him, I personally would pick ravens. Spiritually created ravens as a sort of spying network and surveillance method.

Another juicy detail could be cultivation method. Tgcf does mention that the ghosts still have their own form of cultivating their power. For example, He Xuan eats and absorbs the abilities of other ghosts, whereas Hua Cheng is mentioned to cultivate via slaughtering. The xianxia in tgcf is rather vague now that I have a few more danmei under my belt, and specifically Devil Venerable also wants to know has given me a looot of thoughts about some interesting ways to detail this if it is so desired for a setting. Do please keep in mind tho I haven't really researched cultivation and the wuxia/xianxia 101 worldbuilding yet so this may not make sense. Anywho:

For Shen Jiu in particular I'd find it interesting to give him his own form rather than just copying either Hua Cheng (most fitting imo) or He Xuan (bonus eating disorder included, hooray!). So here are some ideas I had in no particular order:

- Take the core melting aspect from mdzs and applying it to ghosts (sorta): dissolving and absorbing the cores/qi of cultivators and ghosts alike, thus claiming the power for his own.

- Blood. Think less vampire and more slaughter. The messier the kill essentially, bleed the victims dry and absorb the blood to transform it into qi. (Thank you returning Dragon Age brainrot)

- dvawtk's Path of Slaughter. It doesn't really fit SJ as it relies on constantly finding stronger opponents to fight and challenge, especially ones stronger than oneself and persevering against the odds. Not his personal choice but it would poetically fit him and his entire life pretty well.

That's all for now. If you made it till here.... have a gold star: ⭐️

#svsss #shen jiu #original shen qingqiu #ghostSJ #No I will not shut up about calamity!SJ #I have finally accepted that this is my terminal brainrot and I am willing to die on this hill #anyway feel free to use the design <3 Enjoy!

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luvashli · 12 days ago

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CHASE THE HEAT

-> Y/n‘s motorcycle/ Enhypen‘s cars

Synopsis -> Y/N, a daring motorcycle racer, catches the attention of seven competitive car racers called ENHYPEN. Driven by lust and rivalry, the boys chase her both on and off the track, but as the tension builds, their obsession with her grows. Will they see her for more than just a prize, or will their dangerous desires consume them?

Y/N’s Motorcycle

Model: Ducati Panigale V4 S

Why: The Ducati Panigale is sleek, powerful, and undeniably badass. Its aggressive design and impressive speed match Y/N's bold and daring persona.

Features to Highlight:

A jet-black finish with crimson accents. Exceptional speed and handling, allowing Y/N to perform insane stunts and maneuvers during races. A throaty, roaring engine sound that turns heads wherever she goes. Y/N’s bike represents her independence and her ability to stand out in a world dominated by car racers. It’s fast, lethal, and a statement piece, just like her.

ENHYPEN’s Cars

Each car reflects their individual personality and racing style:

Jungwon (Leader)

Car: Nissan GT-R R35

Color: Midnight blue with silver detailing.

Why: The GT-R is a precise, powerful machine, perfect for a strategist like Jungwon. It’s reliable yet intimidating, just like him.

Racing Style: Methodical and calculated, Jungwon rarely makes mistakes.

Heeseung (Veteran)

Car: Porsche 911 Turbo S

Color: Metallic gray with red accents.

Why: A refined, high-performance car that suits Heeseung’s calm and experienced demeanor.

Racing Style: Smooth and consistent, relying on his years of experience to win.

Jay (The Showman)

Car: Chevrolet Corvette C8 Stingray

Color: Bright yellow with black racing stripes.

Why: Flashy, bold, and attention-grabbing—just like Jay. The Corvette’s mix of power and style fits his personality perfectly.

Racing Style: Thrives on risky moves and showing off during races.

Jake (The Heart)

Car: Ford Mustang Shelby GT500

Color: Deep green with white stripes.

Why: A Mustang is a classic, reliable car with a wild streak, mirroring Jake’s charming yet intense nature.

Racing Style: Balanced and adaptive, he races with both heart and skill.

Sunghoon (The Perfectionist)

Car: Audi R8 V10 Plus

Color: Glossy black with subtle chrome accents.

Why: The Audi R8’s sleek design and precision performance are ideal for Sunghoon’s meticulous personality.

Racing Style: Laser-focused on perfection, he rarely takes unnecessary risks.

Sunoo (The Charmer)

Car: Lamborghini Huracán EVO

Color: Pearl white with gold accents.

Why: The Huracán EVO is sleek, stylish, and undeniably powerful—perfect for Sunoo’s sharp and unpredictable nature. It retains an air of charm while exuding luxury and speed.

Racing Style: Agile and precise, he knows how to make bold moves without sacrificing control, keeping everyone guessing.

Ni-ki (The Wildcard)

Car: Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat

Color: Matte black with glowing orange details.

Why: The Hellcat’s raw power and rebellious vibe perfectly match Ni-ki’s fearless and unpredictable nature.

Racing Style: Aggressive and daring, he pushes limits like no one else.

Note: i tried to find pictures as close as possible… hopefully it helps at least a little bit for imagining the cars while reading. :)

Masterlist chase the heat

Chase the heat Teaser

Masterlist

Open taglist

If you'd like to be tagged in future updates for this story, let me know by:

- Sending me a message or

- Dropping a comment on this post (or any chapter)

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mantequillamcwhoremick · 1 month ago

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Chaos in Chaos Plan

Alright, we've covered Mysterion in this post, it's time we cover Chaos😁😁😁

[The same disclaimer as for Mysterion's design goes for this one; no pressure to stick to these ideas if anyone is ever tempted to make fanart (i would explode).]

Anyways, let's get to it.

General Inspiration/Concept

Unlike Kenny, Chaos/Vic/Butters (I'm just gonna call him Chaos) has a lot more resources at hand to put together something inherently stylish, neat and practical. He can bribe or blackmail specialists to tailor his outfit components as per his request (remember that among the affected businesses in South Park there's some clothing stores. This isn't a coincidence🤭), so he's free to be creative.

Plus, unlike Kenny, he isn't climbing buildings or running around daily; he has errand guys who can do that for him. He hasn't needed to fight Mysterion face to face yet either, so if his priority is style over practicality, he can do that.

Doesn't mean he doesn't need SOME practical elements to his outfit, though...

The Mask/Helmet

Butters' canon helmet thingy looks pretty cool already, but the problem is that in any other medium that isn't South Park child play, it just isn't believable that his identity will remain hidden with that thing.

Especially in Chaos Plan, we have Kenny as Chaos' main hunter, and Kenny knows Butters arguably better than anyone in the world. It needs to be believable that Kenny can't recognize him, and the only reason Kenny hasn't ALREADY figured him out bc of his speech patterns, mannerisms and smile, is because Kenny would rather be in a coma for five years than acknowledge the similarities between Chaos and Butters.

So what I'm thinking is a full-cover helmet that somehow references his canon helmet & with the option to remove the visor and the part in front of the mouth, just so it can look like Chaos' canon design a little.

The next best thing that came to mind with a similar shape is a motorcycle helmet, repurposed and fixed up a little for his needs. Removable visor and mouth part, and in silver of course to stick to his canon aluminum foil color palette. Probably with a cute little red plastic gem stuck to the forehead part as the red thing in canon. The darkened visor could serve as a nod towards Vic Chaos' dumbass sunglasses that he wears indoors too.

I really like the idea of it being a repurposed biker helmet because of Butters' canon love for motorcycles (specifically Harley Davidson) as revealed in the episode "The F Word". I also like the idea of Chaos spending hours and hours scrolling through amazon or something to find the perfect biker helmet

Let's ignore that I haven't described this thing as a biker helmet in the text up til now because in all honesty, I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted it to be either. But I'm getting attached to this idea bc it makes it believable that you can't recognize his face and also relates to his canon interests. Also a biker helmet would look hot on Vic Chaos

Clothes

As I said, he doesn't need to be equipped for mobility or anything, seeing as he sits in his office 99% of the time as his evil plans come to fruition, so I like the idea of Chaos just wearing the suit that Vic Chaos wears in Post COVID. Same color palette and everything. Maybe some variants, like the one he wore in "Franchise Prequel" with a tie, because his rich scammer ass can buy whatever perfectly tailored suit he wants. And if there's something Butters isn't, it's boring.

Does he have another outfit more fit for physical fights? Who knows. Maybe. Or maybe he's just the kind of batshit insane madman who doesn't care if his 2.000$ suit gets a little scorched or ripped in a fight with Mysterion. But I guess we'll have to wait for future chapters to find out.

One detail I really like is the idea to add a shirt collar chain as a nod to the chain thing Butters has hanging from his cape in canon. Something fancy made of silver, to really hammer in that "new money scammer dirtbag" idea. Also imagine Mysterion yanking Chaos towards himself by that stupid chain in a fight

Feel free to let your imagination run wild here lol there's all sorts of cool designs that can be milked out of these things.

I think that's all I can say for now so as not to spoil anything still coming in the story🤭🤭 Hope this wasn't too short/boring lmao

EDIT: JEWELRY‼️‼️‼️ ACCESSORIES‼️‼️‼️

I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT TO ADD THIS!!!!!

The collar chain was only a very specific beginning, but definitely not the last of it. Chaos definitely has pimp tendencies; the whole Victor's Bar thing in Chaos Plan is based off of his "kissing company" in "Butters' Bottom Bitch". so he does NOT skimp on shit that signals he has money and bitches.

Look at his stupid ass little gold chain!!!

I imagine him having a wide array of all sorts of jewelry; gold, silver, gemstones. Give him rings, brooches and pins, a belt buckle. EARRINGS! Very important. Sparkly earrings. With a stone or just a pure gold or silver one. Small or a fat lump. A silk hankerchief tucked neatly into the front pocket of his suit. An unnecessarily fancy watch. Anything is possible.

Give him some fat rings that make his punches hurt a BITCH when he fights Mysterion, even if he doesn't match Mysterion's force. He might even have several stacked one one finger because he CAN!

Canon Butters puts on a tutu to dance alone in his room. Victor Chaos was put into a mental asylum and still wore a perfect mustache, sunglasses and a suit. He may be clinically insane, but he'll always have STYLE!

#chaos plan #my fic #butters stotch #lucio yaps #professor chaos #sp chaos #south park fanfic #south park fanfiction #sp fanfic #sp fanfiction

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sweetenerobert · 10 months ago

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begin again

1.3k | joel miller x plus size gender neutral reader

summary: you haven’t gone out on a date ever since you broke up with your toxic ex boyfriend — a year ago, a new opportunity rises when you meet joel miller.

warnings: toxic relationship (guiltrip, body shaming, gaslighting), self-conscious reader, awkward!joel, mention of an age gap (it's your choice, but reader is of age) teeth rotting fluff, first date in a cafe

a/n: doing this for @beskarandblasters for their Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge ;), i’m happy to participate!, if you would like to participate, read this post

a/n 2: as a plus size author myself, i wanted to try something different (keep out for more plus size reader in the mere future, but i still write male reader with no descriptions to let your imaginations go wild <333.

I loved how CUUUUUTE this idea is, i might write a longer version of this ;p also reminder, i went overboard with the word count :0

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You’re seriously gonna wear that?” Trevor said.

Glancing down at your stomach and then back at your boyfriend, you were confused about what Trevor meant. “What do you mean?” Shrugging your shoulders.

“That,” Trevor pointed at you, and you were still baffled at what he was pointing at. “Your hoodie.”

Your eyes trailing back down to your comfort hoodie. You’ve had it ever since the start of your senior year of high school into now being a twenty-one-year-old college student. It had some tiny holes, but you didn't care; you loved the material, the color, and how it made you feel comfortable.

“Well, yeah.” You shrugged.

Trevor sat up from lying on his bed and walked towards you, a look of disgust on his face. But you couldn’t tell what that look on his face was. He was always good at hiding it.

“Babe, you know I love that hoodie,” Trevor started blatantly lying to your face. “But I want you to make a good impression on my friends, so do you think you could wear something different?”

That indescribable feeling in your stomach rose to your throat, feeling as if someone were choking you. The stale taste of bile stayed in your throat as your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults. You disregarded it to be nerves about meeting Trevor’s friends.

In the back of your brain, you knew that meeting them would’ve been a piece of cake if the front of your brain made you constantly nervous. Trevor knew they liked you, but he made you think they didn't. To make you feel small.

“But I have nothing else to wear that makes me comfortable.”

Trevor holds both his pointer fingers to signal you to wait with a smirk on his face, walking towards his closet quickly. Pulling out a trendy denim jacket he owned, you liked it, but it wasn't your style — or size.

“This,” Trevor smiled.

“But, it doesn't fit. I can barely get one button to close, and it's going to be cold tonight,” You complained.

Trevor groaned where chills ran down your spine; it made you not want to say another word. “C’mon baby, we don't want to be late, just put on the fucking jacket so we can hurry up.”

The attitude sent your way wasn't new, but you always felt like it was your fault, and this felt like your fault. He was trying to make you feel good; who’s to say he’s wrong?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay; I didn't mean to get loud.”

That same meaningless apology you’ve heard before that always managed to calm you down. You zip down your hoodie, throwing it on Trevor’s bed, landing on the end of the bed frame, the hood between the mattress and the wooden frame. Taking the jacket and slipping your arms into it made you feel uncomfortable with how tight the denim felt against your back. You felt your shirt picked up — exposing your skin and making goosebumps occupy that area.

Looking at the mirror, you hated what you saw, but the smile on Trevor’s made you feel slightly better.

“I hate this,” You frowned.

“You look great,” Trever emphasized, draping his arm around your neck enthusiastically, which made you feel better. Right?

“Well, you finally look like you actually like my friends.”

“But, I’ve always liked your—”

“Okay, let's get going, baby.” Trevor kissed your cheek and left you alone in his room. The mirror catches your vulnerability in ways you couldn't see, and it makes you feel uneasy; it was bothering you that you couldn't figure out that word.

Disgust.

Disgust was the word that Trevor made you feel.

Judging you, making you feel like you're losing your mind, making you feel like you weren't enough. Disgust.

You were quickly slapping your face to erase any trace of Trevor. You stood outside the coffee shop where you agreed to meet up with the guy you matched up with on Bumble, Joel Miller.

It had been six months before you had gone back on dating apps, grieving the loss of your relationship in the past. Joel was one of the first few people you matched with. He was older, but he could hold down a conversation, making you feel like you could talk to him for hours. He was okay with meeting up with you, but he wanted to ensure you were comfortable with the timing; he was okay with waiting.

It had been five months until you agreed to see him; nervous to the brim, you didn't know what to wear; spending countless minutes in your underwear, you quickly put together an outfit and grabbed a hoodie.

When you first walked in and Joel noticed you, his smile beamed at you, making butterflies appear in your stomach. He had wired headphones in his ear as he stood up quickly, shoving them in his jacket. Wrapping his arms around you in a hug, he made you feel protected in his arms; he smelt of old spice and mint, and in your mind, it was adorable that you chuckled in your head.

As Joel backed up from the hug, he smiled at you again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You smiled back. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Uh, no. Not really, just listenin’ to the playlist you made me.”

“Oh god,” you buried your head in your hand. “You still listen to that?”

“Of course, it's the thing that helps me get out of bed.”

You chuckle and can't help but smile from ear to ear as Joel smiles at you lovingly. “Well, if you ever get bored with that one, I would gladly make you another one.”

Joel chuckles through his smile; he quickly rubs the back of his neck, looking back towards his seat. “Uh, do you wanna sit down?”

“I would love that.”

Joel directs you to your seat; you cannot help but feel heat rise to your face; as you sit in your chair, Joel sits in front of you. As you wiped your hands on your hoodie, you looked up at Joel; you noticed him resting his head on his fist, looking at you. That feeling of Joel critiquing little things about you rose back to when Trevor would do it.

“Trevor isn’t here; you're fine,” You thought.

“Is there something on my face?” Your quick to cover your mouth with your hand.

Joel shakes his head and smiles at you. “Just admirin’ you, you're s’ perfect.”

The heat in your face was reaching a dangerous level, where you could feel your face explode. “Stop, you're pulling my tail.”

“I’m serious, your amazin’.”

You can't help but look down at the table in despair as you rarely received compliments from Trevor; it's hard to believe what Joel was saying to be the truth. “M’sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” You shake your head. Taking a deep breath, you place your hands on the table. “It's just I’ve never received compliments, and it's only when my ex would make me forget how much of an ass he is.”

That padding of Joel’s palm rested against your knuckles; you look at your hands together, and you look at Joel’s welcoming smile. “I promise, whenever I compliment you, it's comin’ from the depths of my soul, sweetheart.”

The warmth of Joel’s hand made you feel comfortable, a feeling you craved with— nobody. You felt good in this moment. “Now, how about I get you a cup of coffee? I promise it's the best.”

You chuckle. “Come on, I had to meet you here; let me buy it.”

As Joel gets up, he slides his hands down in an ‘X’ motion. “Nope, as the gentleman my momma raised me, it’ll be my pleasure.”

“Okay, but the next time we go out on a date, I’m buying.”

“I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” Joel walks away, and you can't help but smile at him as he walks away.

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c0kitty · 1 year ago

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𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 .... 𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 w/ bakugo katsuki x gn!reader « 0:00 ─〇───── 0:00 ⇄

summary: two times you crocheted katsuki something + one time katsuki realizes something so painfully obvious. (⛦) content: fluff! kissing. reader tears up. reader crochets. comfort!! love confession. sickeningly sweet. i'm a lil bad at summaries. gn pretty sure. (⛦) w/c: 1.6k+

i. your first project,

the first time you’d crochet him something, it was a pretty shitty day for katsuki. he had spent a little more than an hour meeting with his friends who, in the most kindest words, were spawns of satan. the constant teasing left him a little drained, the food he left in the dorm fridge was gone, and he was left with a headache throbbing at his temples.

to add on, he hadn’t seen you all day.

so, he goes to your dorm, finding it already open. something he’d always given you mouth on. (what if a stranger comes through? even if it was a little impossible with the amount of security that roamed the halls.) inside, he pauses at the entrance, finding you sitting on your bed, holding a long slender stick with a hook at the tip.

it looked like a miniature murder weapon. “... what the hell is that?”

seemingly startled, he guesses by the reaction of your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline, widened eyes, and a small gasp that left your lips. “fuck me, why the hell are you so silent.”

“hello to you too, princess,” katsuki sarcastically remarks, stepping further into the room. he comes closer til’ he was just about hovering over you.

you pick back up whatever the hell was in your hand. you could still feel his stare, which you quip. “it’s crocheting, tsuki’. i’m trying to pick up a hobby to get off my phone more. its kinda fun.”

katsuki grunts as a reply, moving to sit next to you. it causes the mattress to slightly sink to his weight, whilst he goes to take off his shoes, methodically, all while watching you.

with your teeth catching your bottom lip, you looked so focused, engrossed, not paying a mind to him. his gaze eventually drifts towards what was hanging from the stick. it’s long and narrow, with a soft-looking material, colored a deep-shade of red, and black. it was a scarf.

it’s edges weren't perfect, a little bumpy and not entirely straight, but it still looked pretty damn good. his crimson eye’s go to meet yours, but he finds you already looking at him. “i was gonna make it a surprise. but i made it for you.”

a nervous smile plays at your lips, “do you like it?”

nobody has ever really taken the time to create something personal for him — the warmth in his chest, made him just want to crumble, n kiss your pretty lips. it was nothing short of perfect, even the imperfections.

he'd forgotten you were waiting for an answer and a flicker of insecurity hints in your eyes, your words hanging in the air.

but, he quickly reassures you, his hand traveling, holding at your chin. “it's perfect, okay?” drawing nearer to you, he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “perciate’ you so much baby.”

ii. just for him,

it starts to become a thing every other week. you would crochet him a piece – either something that fit his, in your words, “grunge” style, or something from the colorful yarn leftover from your old projects. and regardless, he would proudly wear it.

over time, people start to notice. seeing him wear a cute black cat beanie was a little out of the norm for him. and the following week, he would wear the same-stitch, fingerless mittens. everyone knew he wouldn’t buy those by choice. someone had to be giving it to him, someone he cared about. someone, like his girlfriend.

being in a school full of smart heroes had its many downsides.

people start to ask, or he would say, "harass you," to make them things. it starts to piss him off after a while — hearing your continuous no’s, and then them trying to ask again like your answer was gonna change after a minute. plus, it’s not like any of those broke assholes were willing to pay, they were just planning to mooch off you.

and, maybe there was a selfish reason for it.

he didn’t want you to share something you were so passionate about with people you gave no shits about, or lov– liked. because it would lose its value — lose the stupid special feeling he got.

this surge of events eventually leads to him cursin’ them out for you, because you were just a little too nice to yell, give murderous glares, or deliver creative death threats. which after, they wisely never approach you about it again.

iii. your last gift, for the year of course,

its a cold new year, katsuki watches as a snowflake falls delicately onto your nose. you guys were huddled on the balcony of his parent’s home, thanks to his mom's desperation, and persistence to meet you. and to his embarrassment, his mom and you got along very well, so well in fact you guys exchanged numbers, planning to meet with each other without katsuki himself.

despite his loud protests, you’d forcibly ushered him out in the shitty-ass cold because you wanted to see the snow. the frigid air embraced you both, his breath left white in the air. katuski’s body pressed the balcony handle, you’d positioned yourself in front of him, his arms encircled your body, his hands holding at your waist.

“you happy princess? m’ freezing here just for you to see the same old snow we see every year.” he complains, even though his crimson-red eyes held warmth, ones that matched your growing smile. you raise your heel pressing a short kiss at the corner of his lips, before retreating.

“quit being dramatic; it’s so beautiful out here.” you insisted, before your eyes widened, like you’d remembered something, and abruptly, you leave an inch of space between the two of you, reaching for something in your puffer jacket.

there’s a slight furrow to his brows, not understanding why you had to pull away — leaving you out of his grasp. til he puts it together, as you pull out a terribly wrapped item, a gift.

“i told you we didn't have to give each other anything.”

“yeah, like the $100 dollar gift you gave me today. see, i knew you would do that so i came prepared.” you say, pointing an accusatory finger.

“now open.” you shove the present in katsuki’s hand, and shaking his head in disbelief, he grabs it, tearing the wrapping off.

“i know i already made you one. but i saw how … worn out it was.”

holded in his rough hands, was a scarf. reminiscent of the colors to the one you gave him months ago — the one he had worn all the damn time, sometimes even in the hottest of weather. with how much time he wore it, after a while, the color of that scarf started to fade, with the yarn unraveling.

“here let me put it on for you.” you take it from his hands, draping it around his neck. you watch as he glances down, just admiring it. “looks so pretty, baby.”

this scarf looked more intricate, with the stitch pattern on the scarf resembling daisy blooms. he’d noticed how your crochet skills seemed to improve, the scarf had a cleaner, straighter edge than the other one.

and for some reason, as he looks down at your gift, a flood of memories of the moments with you, seem to be all rushing to him — your sweet, drawn kisses, the stupid arguments, and your laughter that seemed to always ring in his ears.

moments like those, that laid ahead for the both of you, made him want to look forward to the future, your guys’s future. to wake up next to you, morning breath n’ all, to lazily lounge on the couch and havin’ to forcibly cuddle because of you, to possibly sharing each other's last name. it all swelled katuski’s stupid heart.

it was so obvious why. with your soft gaze on him.

“i love you.” he blurts out, his eyes fixed at your parted lips.

“i love you so damn much, it’s so fucking stupid. you turn me into a sap, y’know. everytime i look at you i just can't help but want to smile, want to hold you. everything I do, every thought that crosses my mind, somehow, it goes back to you. …i ” he sighs, his bravado faltering for a moment, red eye’s averting from yours.

“you don't have to say it back, i just wanted to tell you.” katsuki grumbles, the tips of his ears red as it can be, as he does his best to maintain his ‘i could care less’ facade.

“look at me.” and katsuki does, he’s met with your glistening eyes, stars reflecting. “i love you too, you idiot.”

he couldn’t help but release a soft, incredulous laugh — he was really rubbing off on you. somehow the space between the two of you closes again, your hands fit in his warm jacket. tightly hugging him, as if he was going to leave any second.

“and of course, you had to one up me with a grand ass speech.” you relent, looking up at him, a small pout forming over your features.

“m’ always two-steps ahead. catch up princess.” he replies, a smug smile spreading across his plush lips. his mittened hand moving to hold at your face, thumb brushing along your cheek.

his eyes flicker to your lips, watching as your tongue glides against it. “... can, i?” your lashes flutter at him, weakly nodding. and then your being kissed, slowly, and sweetly. his tongue brushing your bottom lip, savoring you, savoring this moment.

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