#well it's such a good thing that i can actually think and talk about sparks literally always

[seaoftales]

The question of whether he knew Shanks in person had his features soften completely, no matter how hard he tried to not let that happen. Brook hit the nail right on the head --- being in Shanks' presence did inspire one to do the craziest things and take so many bold steps out of ones comfort zone. ❝ We've known each other since we were kids barely even able to lift a proper sword. I'd dare say he's my best friend. But you didn't hear that from me. ❞ Shanks was also his only friend, as sad as it was, but the red haired pirate understood Mihawk and his boundaries like none other.

❝ We also used to duel back in the day, before he lost his arm. It didn't feel right to do so afterwards. Even then, that never stopped him from being his cheerful self. When somebody talks about freedom, he's... the embodiment of it, living life at its fullest, taking care of his own and fighting injustice, no matter which side it's on. He also has that spark in him that makes everybody around him want to do stupid things without regard of consequences, all the while having fun. ❞ Mihawk was in many ways jealous of that, though not in a malicious way. He, as an introvert and somebody who rarely socialized, would have loved to be able to talk to just anybody, regardless of who they were, unless he managed to find that one rare person he immediately clicked with, like Brook. Shanks in turn had no issues with it, a true friend of the world, thriving on good company and surrounding himself with good people.

A low hum escaped him then, hand reaching for his drink to take a few sips. Truth be told, Mihawk couldn't remember the last time he talked to somebody that wasn't Shanks about his parents. Usually, it was a well guarded secret, but even then, when somebody did find out, they simply assumed he was pulling their leg simply to make them leave him alone. ❝ Mhm, the hotspot for all young upstarts who think they can conquer the world on their own. You probably met my folks, or at least my old man. Runs and ship coating business these days. My mother tends to keep to herself in the bar she runs. ❞

❝ As for requests... I've never had any but I certainly wouldn't be opposed to it, either. I find sewing to be incredibly relaxing, and I'd say it saved one or the other marine from certain death. You'd never think that a creative outlet could actually save lives for once. ❞ The words were accompanied by a soft chuckle, the swordsman very much relaxed and comfortable in Brooks company.

Brook smiles was incredibly gentle as he listened to Mihawk. It was hard to believe that a skull could make such a tender expression. "Yohoho! You say "adopt", but we are the one acting like his parents, trying and failing to keep this young lad out of trouble." The skeleton tilted his head at the swordsman. "Oh, do you happen to know Shanks-san in person? I've only heard Luffy-san's stories about him... And saw him on the wanted posters. They do have a very similar look in their eyes. You know. The one that inspires you to do the craziest things. Making you feel as if anything that binds you can be torn apart, like a... Breath of salty fresh air?" The Soul King wasn't sure why, but he felt like Mihawk would be able to understand what he was talking about.

The skeleton tilted his head, somewhat mesmerized by the small smile that appeared on the swordsman's face. He had only seen this face on the posters with a cold, somewhat bored expression in those golden eyes. And all he heard from Zoro were sparse complaints about being stuck between the two extremes: boisterous and loud Perona and the cold, serious Mihawk, who only seemed to take pleasure in seeing Zoro get beaten up. The subtle smile was certainly a surprise, though not at all unwelcomed.

"Hoya? So you are from Sabaody!" The musician briefly recalled all that happened on the archipelago both times that he was there. As a regular citizen, little Mihawk probably didn't have any problems with the Marine base being so close, but the regular visits from the Celestial Dragons and all the destructive pirates that wanted to pass to fishmen island... Brook couldn't help but worry about pretty much anybody living on Sabaody.

"Whaaaat! Your craftsmanship is remarkable!" The skeleton gasped, leaning a bit closer to better see the seams on the jacket. "Incredible! It so tough to find fashionable clothes that don't just fit my stature..." Soul King gestured at his knees sticking awkwardly from under the table, as it was still a bit too small for him. "...but also are easy to move in... Especially considering how fast I usually am. Yohohoho! Do you perhaps take requests, Mihawk-san?"

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 28: The Sparks Brothers

I'm not a movie person... So when I do actually rewatch a movie (I mean, even watch it, at ALL, haha) it must really mean that something is up. I mean, well, it also IS a thorough, highly enjoyable and visually appealing movie about a band that I've been so incredibly invested in for the past several months. So maybe it's a surprise that I don't watch it more often actually. Because one beautiful side-effect of seeing it each time was getting an unexpected and very strong surge of motivation to keep on going towards the things that matter to me the most, despite any and all obstacles that could appear on the way. Another side-effect of it is being happy and joyfull and being filled with warm feelings and thoughts for the whole following day at least. Usually up to 3 days afterwards actually.

But ok, of course, what I'm getting at is that the Maels' story is so incredibly inspirational. Seeing how they persevered through all those years and NEVER lost their spirit or their vision, never gave up... is not only moving but also something that reminds me that wow, so much *really* is possible. I spent so many years fully convinced that there are things that I'll never be able to achieve. And sure, some of them are indeed pretty unlikely to happen. But if you told me from even one year ago that I'd be making art daily and not dreading being so much as perceived anywhere in the great world (so, including the internet)... well, I would have not believed it at all. I really mean it when I say that I used to believe that there are things that I'll just never be able to do. It's like it was simply not meant for me to be able do it and have those experiences. And yet...!

There's a lot I owe Sparks and this is one of the biggest things I'll always be grateful for. They really changed my life for the better. Truly nothing else before them reaches the same degree of how much it helped me. And well, I'm saying this on TSB day because this is where this feeling of gratitude and feeling SO lucky becomes the strongest. And the beautiful thing about it all is that they were always just themselves. They had their vision, they knew what they wanted to do and didn't care about how it would be received. Which is such an important and meaningful message to me, I can't even express how huge it is to me to see these two people who only really had themselves and their endurance and got exactly where they wanted to be.

Alright, some less grandiose observations now. Well, let's start with the fact that this was by no means my introduction to Sparks but it still really cemented my love for them even more. I loved being reminded of their whole journey and learning more about it, and even moreso I loved being able to see more of their beautiful brotherly bond and their wonderful personalities. Truly no other people in this whole world make me as happy as them currently. And the brothers' sense of humour hits super close to mine, so this is also a time filled with genuine laughs (I die laughing at the absolutely true Sparks facts at the end EVERY TIME). And since I'm a huge fan of animation and mixed media art and such things, this was simply a joy to view for my more artistically-inclined side too.

And damn, those two hours and 15 minutes really fly by so fast. When I have to arrange a huge timeslot to watch it all in one go, because that's the only way to do it for me, and then it feels like no time has passed anyway. And even with so much being said there, it feels like there's still so much more to get to. But it's still enough to lift my spirits completely for a pretty long time. And to make me cry a lot of the time too... Absolutely impossible to not shed a tear by the end of it all. It's moving, it's funny as heck, it's super fun and it's absolutely beautiful and truly lifechanging. 💖

[orcelito]

Having lost my cat, my uncle, my great grandmother, my grandma's best friend (& one of the people who helped raise me), AND my dad all within the span of 9 months,

I have little sympathy for people who use deaths as an excuse to be an asshole. I get it, it sucks. Get the fuck over it. Your grief is not an excuse to treat others like shit. What the fuck.

[medicinemane]

The problem with a lot of body horror for me is it's just gross without being compelling

Like yeah you had that person tear their leg open and pull muscle away from bone in a way that's very uncomfortable... but I don't care. Or a lot of Hostel style horror for me it's just kinda... yeah... grossing me out isn't some kinda win

Cause it's not that I don't like body horror, I love Dead Space for instance which... kinda the core pillar of that is body horror if we're honest

Could be a matter of that that kind of body horror is more fantastic making it easier to digest, I will advance that as a theory, but personally I kinda think that it's more that they do something actually interesting with it

Like if I wanted to I could probably see a really fucked up leg wound (and worse) in looking online about this shitty world

Can't really find dead bodies contorted into killing machines though

So I kinda feel like it's my problem with a lot of horror, of that it's horrible in a mundane way where as I'm looking for some unfathomable secret out of horror

So there's a difference between some stabbing a person in the eye cause they're just a shitty person, and doing it to try and create a replica of an alien artifact that gives unlimited energy but also drives people crazy and then turns their bodies into horrible monstrosities

One is just way more interesting to me

[rivilu]

The more I think about the story through Daeran's pov the more insane i go. btw.

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

ahhhh hi!! If your requests are still open, could I please have Yandere hcs of transformers prime Optimus and Megatron(separate) with a gn reader? If you want you can also add in a random character for Yandere hcs as well! Thank you for your time have a good one!

(Turns around the with the most evil smile of them all) Now we getting freaky!! (•ˋ w ˊ•) Hue-hue-hue !

Yandere!Optimus Prime & Yandere!Megatron (TFP) Headcanons!

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, stalking, typical violence from the series and a little bit more, kidnapping, a lil mention of body horror (not sure if it counts). Reader is Gender Neutral.

OPTIMUS PRIME

I will classify Optimus as a Protective, soft worshipper yandere that has a little hint of uncanny valley (I'll talk about this in a moment).

Optimus' life is sadly surrounded with tragedy as he tries to keep a hopeful light on top of his helm for the sake of not giving up and letting down the Autobots.

We now how Optimus is always mourning and yet keeping his helm up, being strong for the others, being idolized by others and having the fate of "the chosen one" written all over him when... he never asked for it.

And he is tired. It's like he is always walking in the middle of the darkness with not a single path to take - lost, feeling like he is losing himself piece by piece... until You arrived.

As a beacon of light.

He has lost too many loved ones - friends, teammates... but deep down, silently, always thanked Primus to have taken anyone else and not You.

I think Optimus' yandere personality would be like Akemi Homura's love for Kaname Madoka - everytime he sees you, he sees nothing but light. Hope. Perfection. Your existence brings nothing but pure happiness and warmth.

The yandere to always kneel in front of you and hold your hands, thanking you for existing and deem him worthy enough of having your presence near him.

If you are a cybertronian, he would pray to Primus for the day to come he finally confesses his love for you, and you share said feelings too and become his Conjux Endura, in this life and the next one.

If you are a human, he would feel this burning need to become your guardian, your protector. His little safe space from the war and battles, always asking you things about your world and about you, promising you with every breath he takes he is going to keep you safe.

Either as a cybertronian or human, he is not letting you anywhere close to battles. He can't lose you. He won't lose you.

Remember the Uncanny valley thing I said? I see Optimus as this kind of yandere that forgets that he is existing in the same place as you - and stares. Just... stares.

The only thing that is giving out he is still living is how his optics move little by little, remembering everything about you again and again, his systems replaying his promises to you and why he keeps fighting, why he is willing to sacrifice the others and himself - to protect you.

Imagine the Yuri stare moment from Doki Doki Literature Club. Yeah, that is the Uncanny Valley I'm talking about.

Following you, stalking you - and you don't actually see him at first (How when he is just the size of a giant?). You move, you go from place to place, room to room. Until you finally find him, peaking from somewhere. Staring at you as you are swallowed by the shadow he casts upon you.

"My spark... my deity. My one and only." He whispers as he gently snuzzles his helm against your helm/torso as he holds you closely to him.

MEGATRON

Megatron gives me the vibes to be a yandere that changes from a type to another.

Definitely an aggressive yandere, but transitions from sadistic-possessive to delusional-paranoiac with the past of times and the events you live with him.

Megatron can see as much as he wants that he only wants a 'strong significant other' by his side and that he 'will not stick to a weak individual' - if he falls and falls hard it is done for him.

You are going to be in this situation of being seen as an equal but also as a pet or possession he owns in his optics.

Definitely kidnaps you - no matter if you are a human or cybertronian, either part of the Autobots, neutral or a Decepticon.

Is not afraid to threaten you or even hurt you (but not that much, he wants you still alive, after all - he can't love you if you are no longer breathing).

Actively reminds you he owns you.

"You are MINE. I will tear any bot's throat if they ever think they can take you from me - so you better think carefuly the moment you open your mouth, dear. Unless you want to see energon or blood all over the place."

The transition I told you about would happen only if your life is put in danger and actually get too close to die.

Imagine if you are hurt, bleeding and bruised but still breathing, totally gonna survive and live another day. Megatron is not a mech to feel fear. But Primus - he felt a dread and despair as he kept processing what happened, hugging you against his chestplate as his system spirals deeper and deeper, his need to possess you becoming paranoia.

If you are a cybertronian, Megatron is going to start having ideas about... merging his spark with yours - but in a sense fusing, becoming literally one - you'll be his spark as he becomes your body.

"You'll become the energon running inside of my system, my software and system, the spark - that way, no one will take you away from me."

If you are a human, will get Soundwave, Knockout and Shockwave to work on a project - to build you a cybertronian body and fuse you with it, defying the laws of your lifespan and finally making you one of his kind.

"There you are... stop crying, my dear. You are perfect now - and as long as I live, you will live. My conjux endura."

My baby brain hurts, had a headache for like 3 hours. (っ´Ι`)っ Vhaos out!

[feyascorner]

at the end of the day

summary. you and astarion have your first genuine fight and the other companions try to patch things between the two of you.

warnings. comfort/fluff

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. have not written an actual one-shot in a while omg,...

Breakfast is eaten in silence. One that's been extending far past its welcome date now.

Shadowheart grips her fork, feeling the flitting glances exchanged amongst the others around the table while she maintains focus on the two individuals sitting on opposite sides of the table. Your eyes remain trained on the bread sitting on your plate and Astarion swirls his chalice aimlessly in his hand, neither of you even acknowledging the presence of the other. The cleric grimaces as you stand suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor as you do so.

"Thanks for the food, Gale," is all you mutter before leaving the room with your plate in hand. Astarion rises from his own chair in an instant, huffing.

"I must take my leave as well."

When both parties have left the room, all five other companions stare at one another in a knowing silence. Lae'zel is the only one who doesn't seem the slightest bothered. Wyll is the one to break the uncomfortable tension in the air, clearing his throat after Lae'zel nearly bites her fork off. "I see they're still amidst their lovers' quarrel."

"What are they even fighting about?" Karlach groans, slumping into her chair with an exasperated groan.

"It was nice the first few days to have a good night's sleep without their incessant noises," Shadowheart grumbles, shoving an egg into her mouth. "But now, this is arguable worse."

"Should we...aid them somehow?" Gale blinks.

Lae'zel snorts. "They're adults, we don't need to coddle them, wizard."

Despite her words, they do find themselves a few hours later in unanimous agreement to do something to ease the unfamiliar dryness of the camp dynamic. It comes in multiple attempts. And to say few---if not all--were unsuccessful, is an understatement.

First, when out in the woods, Gale makes an effort to spark a conversation that would prompt both you and Astarion to join in. You nod occasionally, though lost in thought, while Astarion promptly ignores whatever he's talking about. It's a pathetic attempt that has nobody but himself babbling away, which earns a grunt from Shadowheart. It's enough to shut him up, thankfully.

Second, Karlach uses her uncanny ability to lift someone's spirits. Jokes, dancing, all that jazz. Even booze. She urges you to let loose, but all you do in response is smile at her apologetically while Astarion just glares off into space. Another failed attempt. Lae'zel pats Karlach on the shoulder.

Wyll tells stories of his monster hunting days which you usually take an interest in. Astarion naturally listens to what a monster hunter does when he's not hunting monsters, but that's all it is. You and Astarion only listen. There are quips and lingering questions, but neither of you ever direct it at one another, or bother to add into the conversation either. The sheer amount of teasing questions has Wyll's head spinning by the end of it. Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, you're ambushed. It's a small horde of goblins---nothing beyond your capabilities, but your companions do take some small scratches here and there. Somehow, though he rarely does, as he prefers staying behind you or Karlach, Astarion does too. And despite his efforts to hide it behind his back, you also didn't miss the cut lining Astarion's arm to his elbow. It's not deep by any means, and if it were your own injury, you'd likely just brush it off.

But it's on his skin, and he'd gotten it when taking a hit from an arrow that should've cut your arm.

Blasted hells, you think, as he shrugs it off. Even when you can clearly see him clenching his jaw to bite away the pain.

If battle won't be the end of you, you're sure your idiot of a boyfriend might be instead.

"Come here, you fool," you mutter, holding out your hand. He doesn't even consider the fact that you're mad at one another and immediately extends his arm to you. Habits, you suppose.

You mumble out a weak scolding as he watches you wrap the wound through his lashes. He shivers as you lather a cool ointment on the cut, hoping it's enough to soothe the pain before Shadowheart's recovered enough to properly heal him. He lifts a pale hand to your face, and for a moment, you think he might pinch you. Instead, he runs a thumb across your cheek, spreading the ointment on a scratch you hadn't even realized was there in the first place.

You meet his eyes, your own softening as he cups his fingertips around your cheek. The way he looks at you is overwhelming sometimes---like you're the only thing he gives a damn about in this world---but it's a welcome feeling when he hasn't even looked you in the eye this way in days now. For a moment, you realize you don't even remember why the two of you were mad at one another in the first place.

A laugh threatens to escape your throat. How childish, truly.

And then he flicks your forehead, unable to help the grin etching onto his lips when you blink in surprise.

"That was for making me sleep by myself for three nights."

You swat at his arm while he dodges each of your lazy attempts to get back at him. And though the two of you continue bickering, unbeknownst to you, you have an audience a good bit away, watching you return to your old ways after making them worry for so long.

"What a sight it is--to see young people in love again," Wyll smiles.

Shadowheart deadpans. "Isn't Astarion nearing 240?"

"Who cares?" Karlach shrugs, slinging her arms on either side of her companions with a toothy beam. "What matters is that they made up...and we didn't even have to help them."

[lvlyghost]

Cold Nights

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Reader doesn't show up for morning training. Ghost doesn't know what to think.

Word Count: 794

Tw: fluff, angst, mentions of being sick, soldiers being scared of simon lol, ooc simon probably, he calls reader kid, i think that's it🤭

A/N: I'm sick and this came to my mind, I just want simon to take care of me okay???🥹🤧 this is super bad as usual. still hope you like it. pls remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome ✨💖

Masterlist✨

Ghost doesn't see her at the cafeteria, nor the training room. He's disgruntled. His eyes keep drifting apart from the soldiers in front of him, waiting for the next round of endless push ups he's gonna make them go through.

Why isn't she here?

His body feels restless, pacing back and forth.

Soap doesn't say anything, just shifts his weight from one foot to another.

"Johnny," he calls him. "You're in charge."

"Lt.?" He quirks a brow, not understanding. That's so unlike him.

"Got things to do."

He storms out of the room, the walls rattle when he closes the doors.

It's a cold day. Just like the day before.

Days used to mean nothing to him.

Time.

Until she came along. Three years ago.

That woman... he sighs.

Was it something he said? Didn't they talk about it last night?

Everything was fine.

Or so he thought.

-

"We shouldn't be out here, kid." He mutters. It's freezing, he can see her trembling even beneath her hoodie. Well it was actually his. The hoodie completely swallowing her small form.

"I know, I know!" She laughs. Her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink. "I just... it was too loud inside." That he can agree on. "Is it true?" She asks a few seconds later.

Simon stills. Choosing his next words carefully.

"What?"

"What Soap said." A heartbeat. "About us."

There's a silence that falls between them.

"Those were the words of a drunk man."

"Were they?" her smile is contagious. Damn her and her beautiful soul. "Would you come with me if I asked you to?"

He stares directly at her, trying to find any sign of doubt. He's always mesmerized by her gentle nature. That's something he never knew. Perhaps that's why he was so drawn to her. Longed to be wherever she was. Breathe the same air.

"I'd say that's highly inappropriate." He states. "And that you've had too many shots of whatever poor excuse of a whiskey Johnny made you drink."

"Price called it piss water." She shooks her head. "You're changing the subject!"

Simon chuckles. He really does.

"You've got such power over me no one else could ever have, kid."

And he's doomed.

-

He's trying so hard, going through the events of the night, trying to remember. What happened? Nothing out of line was said. She seemed content when they parted ways, right after he had kissed her good night outside her room. Simon saw the way her eyes lit up with a spark he never saw before. The longing stare. Remembers vividly how she had stopped him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt pulling him down for another heated kiss.

He walks down the corridor with long strides. Hands balled into fists. He shouldn't be this mad. But that was the effect she had in him.

He tries to cool down. Ghost was scared too. What if she had changed her mind and didn't want anything to do with him? He was messing up his head at the mere thought.

He finally makes it to the room, knocking twice before her soft voice tells him he can come in.

Inside the room, all the curtains were closed, not a single ray of light made it inside apart from the lamp casting shadows around. Furrowing his brows he closes the door behind him with a low click.

"Kid?" He calls her. Immediately rolling on her side she welcomes him, red eyes, stuffy nose and looking disheveled.

"Sorry I missed training." She apologizes. Changing to a sitting position and waits for him to sit next to her.

"What's wrong?" He demands with a soft voice. She's still wearing his hoodie from last night. Rubbing her eyes she gives Simon a tired smile.

"I'm just really sick Simon." She answers, he can hear her hoarse voice now.

"Bloody hell, love." His hand goes straight to her face, caressing her cheek. "Did you go to the infirmary?" Closing her eyes, she rest her head against his hand.

"Mhm. Got some painkillers prescribed. Still feel horrible."

"Good, it'll take some time for you to feel better. You need to rest, okay?". The look he gave her leaves no room for discussion.

"Wasn't planning on leaving my bed you know?" He smiles ever so slightly. "Would you stay with me?" When he doesn't answer right away she adds: "never mind you'll catch whatever this bug is and i don't ..."

"Sweetheart," he interrupts her rambling. "Scoot over."

She looks at him wide-eyed.

"You... you don't," she stutters.

"No, I don't mind at all. If there's anything you need just tell me, copy?" She nods, staring at his blue eyes. "Told you we shouldn't have been outside last night."

"Even if it meant catching a cold, I'm glad we did, Simon."

[honeytonedhottie]

how to be a whole new student this school year (A MASTERPOST)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀📔

HOW TO BE BETTER THIS SCHOOL YEAR ;

TAKE ADVANTAGE. take advantage of extra credit opportunities, make sure to advocate for urself and take advantage in any way that u can. by simply doing ur homework you'll have a much better grade in the overall class which gives u wiggle room to make a mistake. but if ur slacking off on ur homework, ignoring extra credit opportunities AND doing bad on tests then ur basically setting urself up for failure. and by doing the opposite then ur setting urself up for success.

something i've noticed (and im guilty of this too sometimes) is that i spend so much time making my notes aesthetically pleasing that i forget to actually go over them which defeats the whole purpose of notes. theres nothing wrong with having fun and creative adorable notes that spark joy and happiness but PLEASE actually use them, trust me you'll love them more…💬🎀

furthermore understand that getting good grades isn't as daunting and difficult as u may have imagined. just remember to always do ur homework, take advantage of extra credit, projects are an easy test grade, and get things done as fast as u possibly can.

FIND WAYS TO STAY MOTIVATED ;

the best way to stay motivated is through ROMANTICIZATION. when u learn to enjoy going to school, your going to be motivated to do well in school. because school is so IMPORTANT not only for ur education but also ur future. so take school seriously. and if u wanna become an academic weapon for the long term the best thing u can do is learn to make the best of, and enjoy it. some ways to romanticize school include ->

♡ create a school playlist that embodies the school vibes that u wanna have : i have lots of new jeans in my school playlist : i rly like the songs cookie, ditto and hurt for when im at school

♡ creating a study blog or study group to hold urself accountable in a fun and healthy way

♡ ur appearance : if u go to a school where u dont have to wear uniforms, i strongly recommend getting dressed and getting ready meticulously bcuz when u look good, u feel good, and therefore u perform well. if u do wear uniform, wear accessories or hairstyles that make u feel and look pretty. i wear leg warmers with my school uniform and my signature is hair clips and barrettes.

♡ read at school : i always walk around with a book bcuz i like to read a lot but if reading isnt ur thing, listen to a podcast about something that interests u (i rly like true crime)

♡ take pride in ur notes : invest in cute stationary! i swear, sometimes i dont feel like studying but since my stationary is super cute and pink i get motivated to study just by looking at it lol. invest in quality stationary that u love and make ur notes look pleasing to you, and also effective. effective + aesthetically pleasing.

♡ doing homework/studying in the library : or at least changing the scenery and location that u do ur homework from time to time. do yk how boring it is to do work in the same place every single day? give urself a break from the places u see all the time and spend time studying or doing homework outside of ur home. in a cafe or in the library, inside or outside, just change the scenery a bit

♡ start a video diary : i started a little video diary with my friends so that we can remember our school memories. i just think its rly cute and a great way to bond with ur friends, make memories, and romanticize school.

try and formulate a PASSION for learning as a way to cultivate the school romanticization attitude. be passionate to learn and be an academic weapon…💬🎀

CHANGE UP ROUTINES ;

in my next point i talk about the importance of routines but its also important to change little things about ur routine. dont go and change the whole structure of ur school routine but make sure to add little changes to spice things up and not keep urself like a hamster on a wheel. i find when i do this i just feel a lot better and its easier to romanticize.

MAKE A REGIMEN ;

make a pretty basic routine to stick to, to make sure that u balance school and personal life. having a routine can make falling into line and following through with tasks a lot easier. its easier to do things personally when u MICROMANAGE urself. at least from my own personal experience.

ABOUT STUDYING ;

every single day study (at least for a little bit) ofc this will vary depending on ur personal schedule but the goal is to do a little bit of studying everyday, and if that isnt possible, designating 3 days a week to a thorough studying session.

the way that i divide my time with a study session is 40 minutes of work time and 20 minutes of downtime. during the 40 minutes of work time u need to LOCK IN. lock in on whatever assignment needs to be complete or lock in on whatever material it is that ur studying. ofc this'll differ between all subjects but dont study all subjects in one night!! thats ambitious, but i find it'll just burn u out so stick to studying for 2-3 subjects max.

HOW TO STUDY WITHOUT BURNING URSELF OUT ;

♡ get off ur device. literally put the phone down. 9 times out of 10 the burn out that ur feeling is just the dopamine detox and laziness

arguably, the most important aspect to prevent burn out is ENERGY management. when ur burnt out u can literally feel ur energy tank on zero, so regardless of all the study techniques, however effective they may be, if u can't even muster up the energy to do them then they're useless…💬🎀

♡ get PRODUCTIVE rest. what is productive rest? scrolling endlessly on tiktok is NOT productive rest. productive rest is actually letting ur mind and body REST. like, taking a nap, indulging in self care, or whatever relaxes u.

STAY ORGANIZED ;

find a tool and stay ORGANIZED. i personally use notion. and on my school notion i create a space for me to write my own notes, a calendar to put important academic dates, resources like passwords and logins, and a to-do list where i can put down some of my assignments. keeping everything organized is so so important. its non digital as well, make sure to keep ur desktop space organized, ur supplies and physical notes organized also. the more organized the better.

SOME POSTS FOR RESOURCES ;

how to get good grades without excessive studying - by yours truly

ways to romanticize school - @4theitgirls

studying methods + tips - by yours truly

youtube channels to help u out this semester - @4theitgirls

creating a study schedule and routine - @prettieinpink

how to study like rory gilmore - @itgirldiary

my studying plans as an accounting major - @iluvprettygirls

citation resources - @workitgurl

how to get good grades without excessive studying - by me

khanacademy.org

coursera.org

annualreviews.org

google scholar - research

google calendar - organization

notion - organization

[sleepiexx]

Something He’d Overheard

James Potter x fem!Reader

Note: I’ve been in the marauders fandom for over 7 years now, I think it’s high time I write a fic for it. Part of my efforts to branch out into writing for more fandoms than COD.

Summary: James finds himself head over heels when he sees you defending a first year student.

Warnings: some curse words here and there, bullying mention, overall rlly soft

Word Count: 1151

After countless fictional characters and random strangers on the street with pretty faces catching his burning ire, anyone who knew James Potter knew good and well that he was a lover. He had long believed in love at first sight, merely seeing someone eye-catching often sparked thoughts of budding romance, fantasies of how they would love and what their relationship would look like amongst other things. Soulmates and fate were a big concept to him too, for example his favorite book character, a headstrong witch who was kind and brilliant, well James had a hunch that in another life they were lovers.

He’d fallen in love just about a million times, and yet something about you was different.

You had caught James’ eye one day as he made the trek to the library to collect his good friend Remus for their group’s usual night’s worth of mischief. Your beautiful eyebrows were pinched together in anger, a sneer on your pretty lips, your voice was loud and firm as you scolded one of the usual culprits (a death eater in the making) for bullying a defenseless first year student.

Your hand clutched your wand intently as you damn near hissed the words, “you wanna try picking on someone who can actually fight back?”

They let out a scoff and left the scene, leaving you, the first year, and unbeknownst to you, James.

The switch between standoffishness and caring came like whiplash. Your tensed frame relaxed as you knelt down in front of the first year (those eleven year olds seemed to be growing shorter and shorter every year). Your dominant hand reached out and gently wiped away the younger child’s tears.

“Everything he said is bullshit,” you began, “he’s angry at the world, looking for someplace to fit in, and unfortunately it’s really easy to fall into the wrong crowd. You haven’t, and he’s jealous of that.”

The kid sniffled, pout still indented firmly on their little lips, “who would be jealous of me?”

You shook your head in disbelief, “plenty of people! You have a gift that a large part of the world’s population doesn’t possess, that’s something to be proud of no matter what other witches and wizards try to tell you. Heck, I’m even jealous of you.”

As you spoke a smile crept its way on the first year’s face, “you are?” They asked.

“Yeah, I am!” You nodded, “you’ve got six and a half more years left at Hogwarts to have fun and run about the castle, I only have another year and a half.”

“This place is pretty cool,” they muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your face lit up and you stood to your feet, offering the small child your hand so you could walk them back to their common room. You’d never seen the awe-stricken onlooker, but the scene was now burned into James’ mind.

It followed him to the library, where he convinced Remus to follow him to their other friends, a long walk that Remus spent listening to James drone on and on about you. It followed him to his dorm that night, and every other night for weeks leaving the marauders to know every single detail about you. And it most especially followed him to each of the classes you had together where James would stare at you and admire your appearance while daydreaming about you.

It was the third time that week that the scene had followed him to the lunch table when Sirius slammed his palms on the table, “I’m putting an end to this nonsense right now. You either talk to her, Prongs, or I will. And trust me, you won’t like how in depth I will go about those daydreams you’ve been having where-“

Sirius couldn’t even finish his sentence with how fast James jumped in, “alright, alright! I have potions with her next, I’ll talk to her, I swear.”

The statement leaves the marauders satiated in conversation as they finish up their lunch and head to their classes.

In potions, James nearly decides to abandon ship, facing a new anxiety he’d never experienced before when dealing with a girl. He decides that maybe it would be best to keep to himself, too afraid to stumble on his words and make a fool of himself in front of such a pretty girl. All this is until Professor Slughorn proclaims that today’s assignment requires a partner. If there ever was a time to shoot his shot, it’s now.

He takes deep breaths, adjusting his posture and forcing his every step to radiate confidence before he reaches you, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to be my partner?”

You smile, “I’d love to! Fair warning, though, I’m not the best at potions.”

James bursts out into a giddy grin, “I’m willing to pick up the slack.”

“Unfortunately, I bet I’ll make you eat your words,” nonetheless you collect the ingredients as James collects the supplies.

When everything is together, James reads off the instructions. You follow them with great care, not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of your new, devilishly handsome potions partner.

You make to slice open one of the ingredients, as the instructions called for, but your knife slips, sending the damned thing hurdling straight towards your face. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for an impact that never comes, reopening them only to be met with the sight of the back of James’ hand.

“Holy shit,” you curse, “did you just catch that?”

James nods, almost surprised at himself.

You shake your head in disbelief, “if you weren’t such a good chaser, I’d suggest you take up seeking.”

Your statement renews James’ confidence, so you’d noticed him too?

“Can I show you how to cut it?” He asks, a smile on his face.

You nod, watching his hands intently, confused when he disappears behind you. You quickly piece together what’s happening when he grabs your hands with his own, handing you the knife and positioning you so that you slice through the ingredient like it’s nothing.

“Great job!” James praises, even though it was him that had done all the work.

You still take the compliment, grinning from ear to ear as he tosses the final ingredient into the potion, creating the rich purple color you were striving for, “we make a really good team, Potter.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “well what do you say we see if we make as good of a couple?” You feel blood rush to your cheeks, James further clarifies “Hogsmeade this weekend? Just you and me?”

And you nod eagerly, “I would love that.”

If Sirius thought James asking you out would be the solution to him raving on and on about you all hours of the day, he was sorely mistaken and he was about to figure that out as soon as James stepped into the common room.

[boowritess]

i love love love the headcanon of the 141 not having kids and babies and ewey.

i think that john price is still very relevant to that. kinda. i don't really seeing him having a pet honestly. unless you wanted one... sure... but nah y'know... he's old tired af. maybe a cat. probably definitely a cat.

but it's been you and john for as long as you can remember.

happy to be in each other's presence from morning to night, or simply just exist in a shared life that means you two don't have to always be around each other.

you could be shopping and he could be sleeping. he's outside tending to the stuff he had supposed to finish before he left deployment while you're reading on the couch inside. he's on a long deployment again, and you're at work.

plus the prospect of kids just never seemed to work into the schedule. "nah," john says to one of your friends, "can handle kids fine, but when i'm home, this old mans bones are good for sleep and not much else. i mean the breeding kink can get me goi-" john grunts when you elbow into his side.

"crude." you huff with an eyeroll.

"but true." he says into his beer as he takes a sip, eyes sparking with mischief.

your friend turns to you. "but doesn't it get lonely?" they asks. "wouldn't you want a little one running around?"

and well sometimes the days may be lonely for you when he's gone...

but that's become impossibly hard to focus on when your phone is being constantly blown up - not by price though. by the 141.

it's never really anything outrages or civil conversation. it's gaz asking which tie he should wear at an event because price said the black one but gaz doesn't really like the black one. then it's johnny sending you a video of him besting his previous time on a training course. though it doesn't stop there. ghost is messaging late nights for him but mid-day for you, asking about how to deal with insomnia. ghost is asking you because he knows you're awake and the others are asleep, he doesn't want to bother them.

you answer every single one, with so much care and attentiveness. you save every picture, every video and boost about their achievements to other people as if they were your own. however, people always assume you're talking about little kids not grown ass men.

yet on days when you're at home or you've come home from work. you're hardly surprised to find one of them had invited themselves into yours and johns home as if it was their own.

sometimes it's gaz crashed out on the couch who's in a desperate need of a shower but definitely needs sleep more.

or the sounds of soap in your fridge, raking around to find something to eat. "lass, ye out of cheese-" he ate the cheese. the whole newly bought block of it.

gaz and soap like to hover around you when they're home. whereas ghost helps price around the house.

but when it's just you and ghost, the oldest boy. it's quiet. there's no forced conversations but probably a few shitty jokes. it's you or him making food and the other doing the dishes. yet ghost opens up and the conversations turn into some of the most randomist, boyish, silly conversations.

when everyone's at home, it can actually be pretty hectic. so you go do the grocery shopping, but you take ghost along cause he's a little like you in regard for a need of quiet time.

oh and can't forget the days you go out by yourself only to come home with a few other things. socks for john - socks for all of them. you bought johnny a new pair of jeans and gaz a couple of shirts. and simon some more sweaters.

christmas, easter, new years - every single holiday is always hosted at yours and price. where everyone comes. farah, alex, laswell and her wife. rudy and alejandro making their way- then of course your boys...

and it's there where you've kinda realized.

you and john do have kids.

just in the form of grown men.

which both you and john don't seem to mind.

you end up shrugging your shoulders as you look at your friend, "honestly i have my hands full when they're all home. so... i'm good." you say with a hum, sipping from your own drink with a small smile as john just chuckles softly.

a/n: realized I never posted this. oh well. the no baby saga continues with john price. drink water be well ya'll xx

[seaofreverie]

We should normalize bringing these sort of "small talk ideas" cards to meetings with other people so that it's possible to avoid the awkwardness of not knowing what to talk about to kick things off or if it's considered normal to talk about this specific thing and AUGHGHFCG all this stuff.

[petpenname]

Heartache

pairing: Ellie Williams [brother's best friend] x fem reader c.w. : smoking summary: you have had your eyes on your brother's best friend and band member forever, but you'd never think she would actually talk to you? a/n: this was a submission + I'll make more parts if it gets a good response!

The air in your room hangs heavy with humidity. A slight breeze from your open window blows through, fluttering your various posters and decor hanging on your walls. And over you, sprawled across your bed, flipping through social media, you were honestly bored out of your mind. Three weeks into summer and your closest friend was away for vacation, leaving you alone… and bored.

Cycling through your socials again you get fed up with the lack of entertainment and toss your phone on the floor with an exacerbated sigh. You lay on your bed, wondering what you should do to fill the void of dopamine when the sound of music begins to fill the house. A mixture of rock, indie, and midwest emo songs rang out from your garage, conveniently positioned directly under your room. 

Your brother's band got around to practicing, you assumed. You didn’t even realize your brother was home, he had gone out earlier this morning after your parents left for work. The music got louder and you suddenly had an idea of what you wanted to do, and it wasn't staying here and listening to your brother's shitty garage band. You gather your sketchbook, some pens, headphones, and a few other things into a bag, throw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes and head downstairs. You were headed to a river spot in the woods near your house. It was a commonly frequented spot by you, and your friends but not known to many. Perfect for a little seclusion and wading in cool water. 

You walk down stairs and almost instantly are hit with the strong earthy smell of smoke. You linger for a second and decide that your trip would be improved with a joint, hoping your brother would front you something, you enter the loud garage. 

Your brother and his band mates, all two of them, were unaware of your entrance. They were playing as loud as possible (maybe not as well as possible) but they were producing sound! Your brother slamming away on the drums while the guitarist, and bassist/singer were in their own worlds. 

“Hey!” you yell over the trio.

“HEY KAI!” You shout once more at your brother. Who, without skipping a beat or stopping, yells back.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” 

This got the attention of the other two band members who did stop upon seeing you standing there, amps silencing to white noise feedback. 

“Can I get a joint?” you ask.

“You got money for a joint?” Kai laughs.

“Can you just front me one?” you reply back flatly

“Why should I?” 

“If you give me one I wont tell mom you were smoking in the house again.” You counter. 

“It’s the garage so technically not the house and whatever you know they wont do anything”

“She can have one of mine?” a voice sparks up behind Kai, drawing your attention to the guitarist. A girl named Ellie. She and Kai had been longtime friends and bandmates. You barely knew anything about her other than she was in Kai’s grade, one above yours, but you knew her. You knew her eye color, her favorite flannel she wore a little too often. You knew she got a new guitar last year, and a fresh tattoo this year that shined under the garage light as she held up a joint in your direction.  

You also knew that this was one of the only times she had ever spoken to you. Not like you were around each other often but you almost felt like she would try to avoid you when she was over. Shocked, but with adrenaline pumping you took your chance, walking over to Ellie. She still had her guitar hanging around her, flannel sleeves rolled up, her hair was a bit disheveled from playing, strands falling out of her half up hair do.

She hands you the joint with a sideways smile, and her eyes glint a bit.

“Thanks, you’re so much nicer than my brother” you scoff, giving her a smile back. You turn to leave, flipping off Kai as you bound out the door, leaving the band members commotion in the garage. Not seeing Kai chuck a drumstick at Ellie who dodges it with a laugh. 

The success of getting a joint over shined the butterflies fluttering in your stomach from that look she gave you. The sun hit your face as you got outside and you were only looking forward to your solo date in the forest.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting slowly, but from where you were in the woods shade had taken over your spot. You had smoked, worked on your art, and walked along the water looking for rocks. Hanging out in the forest for a few hours always rejuvenated you in a way you couldn’t explain. But you started to get cold and decided now was a good time to head home. While packing up you realized you had pretty bad cotton mouth from the joint, so you planned to stop by the corner store. 

It wasn’t a long walk but by the time you got to the corner store it was dusk. Street lights started sparking up like stars in the night sky. You opened the glass door and walked in, perusing the aisles for any snack or drink that could satiate your munchies. You were contemplating between an iced tea or a soda when the doorbell rang as someone walked in the store. You barely noticed the bell, or the girl walking up behind you until she spoke.

“Did you enjoy your smoke?” 

You jump, previously lost in your thoughts, you turn around to see Ellie standing there. She was wearing a hoodie now, her guitar in its case strapped to her back.

“Oh my god you scared me!” you say, almost dropping the bottles in your hands.

“Sorry! Didn't mean to!” Ellie laughs, moving around you to open the fridge door next to you and grab a coke. “Funny running into you here” she says, a little awkward you note.

“I mean my house is only a few blocks away,” you laugh. 

“Mm ya i guess so, you getting both of those?” Ellie looks down at the bottles in your hand.

“Oh um, I'm getting this one.” you hold up the iced tea & go to put back the soda. Before you could think Ellie takes the iced tea from your hand and starts walking towards the front of the store.

“Hey wait!” you look at her confused.

“Oh do you want something else princess?” Ellie turns back to look at you with a smirk.

Sparks ignite in your stomach, confused but now flustered, your mind swirling. You finally get a word out, “no, just that” and Ellie turns back to walk towards the cash register. 

You follow her, not really knowing what to do or how to act. Ellie and you had barely spoken to each other before this. And now she's acting so casually around you, and what did she call you? Everything happened so fast you barely caught it but reflecting back now, did she call you princess?

Ellie pays for the two drinks and you walk out together, taking your ice tea from her once outside. 

“Thank you, you didn't have to do that” you say, unscrewing the top and taking a refreshing sip.

“Don't mention it” Ellie says, “So are you going back home now?”

“Mhm yeah, what about you?”

“Yeah I was, but it's getting dark now, i’ll walk you back home first” Ellie says with a smile. 

“Who said chivalry was dead” you joke, it was a nice gesture, as much as you were confused by Ellie’s sudden intentions you couldn’t help but feel a type of way when she looked at you. Her green eyes danced over your face like she was memorizing your features. You wondered if she always looked at you this way?

She had. Ellie for the past few years had been keeping such a distance from you because when you were around she felt her whole body tense up. She felt like she was on fire if you looked in her direction. And god help her if she tried to speak around you, she ended up tripping over her words and losing her train of thought. Truthfully, she didn't know what magical queer fairy blessed her with the confidence to talk to you today. But she had taken in a chance earlier in the garage, and when she saw you in the store she knew it wasn't a coincidence. 

The walk back to your house was short, only a few blocks. You and Ellie joke together and talk about summer plans in the meantime. Both of you slightly high still, making your balance shifty, occasionally you would brush shoulders, sending sparks down each other's spines. 

When you get to your house you stop at the walk way, a little awkwardly since you knew Ellie had been in your house before. 

“Thanks for walking me home! And buying me this, um and the joint '' you say, taking in all of Ellie’s courtesy today, a little unsure what to do with yourself.

“Any time!” Ellie says with a smile, she fidgets where she stands for a second before reaching her hand up to your face. She tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear, without breaking eye contact.

“Have a good night y/n” and with that she turns around and walks away, putting up her hood. 

She left you solidified on the sidewalk, body unmoving but nerves on fire with a simple touch. You float for the next hour or so, barely registering going into your house and up to your room. Trying to make sense of what had just happened, and why now? And why so suddenly?

Later that night you receive a notification on Instagram

* @www.ellie followed you *

[shawnxstyles]

baby honey 2

DATE: NOVEMBER 5, 2023

summary: you and harry need to talk. so, you do. along with other things.

song: Fantasy- the driver era

words: 7.2k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [oral, choking], daddy kink, slight dumbification, mentions of voyurism/exhibitism [not clearly stated] and porn, protected sex, dirty talk!!), language, and a very blunt y/n.

note: i actually got a part two out not that long after the first part?? omg?? monumental moment here guys. enjoy! PART ONE!

secret pornstar!harry x secret pornstar!y/n

—

DaylightDaddy [verified]: What are you doing to me?

You were waiting by your computer for the longest sixteen minutes of your life. That’s how long it took Harry to watch your less-than-ten-minute video and then text you back. Your heart, which was still flat on the floor of your stomach, leaps excitedly when it sees Harry’s message on your computer screen.

That message alone verified to you that DaylightDaddy was indeed Harry. Of course Harry would bring back his infamous saying at a time like this. You wanted to ditch the conversation on this website and text Harry personally. You also wanted to go to his house and pounce on him for being ridiculously attractive and vulnerable. You were an idiot by not saying anything yesterday and he was an idiot by being so blunt and angry. You both could have ruined not only your friendship but your chances at being something more by not talking. Communication is key, yet you’re still locked.

Why?

Maybe because somewhere in the dark crack of your heart, you’re terrified that you’ll be vulnerable to a man that’s six years older than you just for him to say that he doesn’t actually like you. He just likes your breasts and the idea of sleeping with you.

But that’s not Harry, right?

Without responding to his message, you grab your phone that has been forgotten on your floor. The second you sent that video to him you chucked it across the room and hoped for the best. It seems as though it worked, but at the same time, there is still so much unsaid with Harry. So many feelings you need to work out. But first, you need to talk and figure out how you both actually feel. Is it just lust? Is it just the fact that you two work together? Or is it something more?

Y/N: harry

He texts you almost simultaneously.

Harry: Y/N

Your fingers freeze at the keyboard. Even though you were just talking to him, how do you bring up such a serious conversation. We need to talk? Or I need to talk to you? They both sound bad.

Harry: Are you working today?

You and Harry both know damn well neither of you works. Him asking this question just seems like he’s continuing to avoid you, and avoid the inevitable conversation that you guys need to have. Did your video not spark a lightbulb in his head? How can he not tell that you do feel whatever he feels? Maybe even more…

Y/N: i am not, but i think you know that

Y/N: can we talk? are you busy?

You know he’s not busy, but that doesn’t make his reaction any scarier.

Harry: I’m free

Harry: Do you want to come over

It was one of the scariest texts he’s ever sent. After what just went down between you two, inviting you over could mean anything. It’s clear there’s a strong attraction connecting you both, but there is also a lot of murky water that needs to be cleaned.

Y/N: yes

Harry: Let me pick you up

That stubbornness inside of you that Harry is all too familiar with wanted to fight him. To tell him that you are more than capable of driving yourself, even though you only have Penny’s car for one more day. But him suggesting to pick you up showed his desperation to see you. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the forward action instead of the backing away was what you two needed.

Y/N: okay

Y/N: give me an hour!!

You needed time to think about it of course.

—

Within that hour, you were going crazy. You took a warm, hard-pressed shower in order to massage all the tension in your body and hopefully in your mind. You thought about every possible scenario about seven thousand times, hoping that you’d get it right. This time, you planned to say the right words and not stand there like a fucking statue when faced with his vulnerability. This time, you were going to be vulnerable too, because you’ve never had a chance at something more like this before. And you don’t want to ruin it just because you’re afraid. How lame is that?

While you were waiting for Harry to text you, you pace around the room. Your eyes averted to your computer that was still lying on your bed, and the only thing you could think about was your conversation with Harry. Not only had he called you attractive but he compared your beauty to everyone on the website and still said you were the most attractive. Was that just him flirting? Or was he being serious? You wondered if Harry really felt that way about you and you hoped you would find out soon.

On that thought, you never even checked if his money went through. You know the second that it does you’ll be giving it right back to him. So, while you’re still waiting, you open up your bank app on your phone. Even though you’re sitting on your bed now, your leg is still bouncing up and down, anxiety infiltrating your blood like the most insane drug.

When you finally comprehend the number that is present on your screen, your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. You blink a couple hundred times before briskly checking your most recent transactions. In neon green letters an extravagant $2000+ appears in front of you. Your hand jaggedly and slowly finds its way over your agape mouth, bewildered at Harry’s extreme act. What on earth would cause Harry to willingly send you that much money? Yes, you have complained about your financial situation, but you also clearly denied Harry of a loan. Now, you have to send his money back and it’s going to be really awkward. Another thing you have to add to your list of “Things to Talk Through with Harry”. Just as you close the app, Harry texts you that he’s at your place.

–

“Hey,” You manage to cough out as you slide nervously into his passenger seat.

“Hey,” Harry replies with a thick swallow. His grip on the steering wheel changes from intense to loose every few seconds before he starts the car.

There’s a low hum on the radio along with his air conditioning blowing cool air towards you. But other than that, no one had said a word. You peek over the dashboard a few times to see the road, wondering how far Harry lives from you and how quickly you can get out of this car. You hoped when you got to his house that this unbreathable, anxious tension would have died down, so you two can finally sort this shit out.

As a few more minutes pass by, you realize that you hate this. You hate the awkward silence that’s dawning over your friendship and making you overthink every single word. It’s never been like this with Harry, ever. You’ve never had to second-guess your late-night conversations and he never had to restrain his friendly charm. This, this tension, is unlike both of you.

You have to talk. Maybe you should mention the money?

“I know y’want to say something. Just say it, please, I can’t stand this awkwardness,” Harry blurts out as he stops at a red light. You inhale and blink, suddenly feeling a bit more alive with the sound of his voice.

“I looked at my bank,” You said, looking down at your lap. You were already being shy and you haven’t even got to the actual vulnerable stuff yet. What is wrong with you?

“Have you?”

“Yeah, and I saw the money you gave me.”

“Good.”

“Harry, you know I can’t take that,” Now, you turn your head towards his, which is safely facing the road. But you know he sees you and you know he’s stressed with your stubbornness.

“But you already did. It’s in your account, yeah?”

“Okay, but–”

“I don’t understand why you won’t take my money. Is it not good enough for you or somethin’?” Harry’s voice has become more agitated, making his last turn a bit sharper. You see him take a deep breath as he pulls into a driveway of a nice house. It was nice because the lawn was green and cut and the color of its walls were a pleasant cream color with a smooth navy blue as its border. It wasn’t the biggest house ever, but Harry was more practical than that. He didn’t need some huge, showy house in order to seem cool. Harry was already cool, whether he knew it or not.

“All money is the same, you doy.”

“You didn’t want it when I said I could loan it to you. Then I found a way to give it to you because you earned it and you still won’t take it. How does that make sense?”

“That’s different!”

“How is that different?”

“You of all people should know!”

Harry groans out of frustration and gets out of the car. “Let’s just get in the house.”

You follow suit, shutting the car door a little more roughly than you thought. Before you know it, you’re in his house and it’s just so Harry. His furniture is smooth; all browns and woods. He had pictures of his family scattered along with abstract art. By his decently sized television is a large record player next to an impressive case of vinyls. He even has a miniature bookshelf full of books that would probably bore you, but it still fascinates you.

“What, have you never seen a house before?”

“Don’t get all snappy with me. We were supposed to talk.”

“You make it difficult.”

“Why? Because I won’t take your money?”

“That doesn’t help,” he crosses his arms before dropping to sit on his couch. Again, you follow him, but keep your distance. You don’t miss the way his house smells just like him; a homey breeze of fresh air with a sprinkle of nature. It was earthly and friendly and charming. Just like him. “But it’s your stubbornness.”

To be fair, your stubbornness is one of Harry’s favorite traits about you. But it’s also the one that gets under his skin the most. He admires the way you can stand up for yourself and you know how to get exactly what you want. But he’s noticed that your need for independence interferes with your other desires.

“I can’t help it. I was born to fight,” You sighed out, lying against the couch cushions. “At least that’s what my dad always says.”

“I don’t want to fight, Honey,” The new nickname has rows of shivers cascading your skin. You feel a tingle in your stomach that you get when he says something charming or flirtatious. It’s impossible to fight the butterflies and heart pulses he gives you.

“Me either,” You take a deep breath, just like you did in the shower and just like Harry did in the car. This was your time to be vulnerable, to be first. You wanted to show Harry that you cared and that you weren’t just being stubborn to be annoying. You loved when you guys would close together, even if you consistently told him you would do it yourself. You loved the late-night talks you would have while cleaning up the bar, talking about anything and everything in order to waste time. You were endeared that Harry always walked you to your car in the early morning after the doors were locked just to make sure you were safe. You missed the way his hands felt on your arms when he caught you and the feeling of his chest pressed closely to yours. Friends don’t crave like that. No, because you weren’t friends. You were more and you both knew it. You cared about him and you appreciated his care for you. Shit, you freaking liked him and it took you both revealing your secret identities to prove it. Even if you two haven’t technically talked about it.

“H…”

“Y/N.”

“Everything you told me that night. Was it true?”

There was a weighted beat. One that was long and heavy enough to shatter the earth.

“Yes, of course it was. Why would I lie about that?”

“I don’t–” You turned to face him. “I’m not…good at this stuff. I don’t randomly hook up with people or go on dates. I especially don’t go to their house after sending them a video of me orgasming to confess my feelings to them.”

Harry blinks. He didn’t think you would mention it so vulgarly, but maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. But he would like to. He doesn’t sound like you’re accusing him of doing those things, more of just you warning him about yourself. Harry does extract the little hint of your words and uses them to interrogate you.

“Feelings. What feelings?”

“Well, currently I’m frustrated–”

“Y/N,” his voice of seriousness causes your eyes to drop into your lap. You fiddle with your thumbs like a nervous kindergartener on their first day of school. It wasn’t like you to get so shy. You were a bartender for a living; you couldn’t be shy. But you just haven’t reserved these types of feelings for someone in so long it feels foreign. It feels as though you’re stretching outside of your comfortable zone and forcing you to be sheepish with your eyes down.

“Fine. I like…our friendship. A lot. But this week made me realize that I want more than that. With you,” You peer up at him through your eyelids, hoping not to see his face cringe with disgust at your words. But Harry’s face is flattened straight with nothing but the intent of listening. He even has a sparkle of softness in his eyes that makes your heart lurch out to him. He cared, and it showed in his features. Your mom always told you that people’s real emotions were always revealed on their face, and it was written like a love letter over his.

His patient silence makes you want to fill it with some type of conversation due to the uncomfortableness with your sudden vulnerability. Skittishly, you swallow in an attempt to coat your dry throat. “But I haven’t got much further than that. I know that I’m attracted to you. I mean, fuck, you saw the video, right? I probably didn’t even need the bullet–what did I just say? That’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that I don’t want this to just be an attraction because I don’t think I could handle that. That felt good to say. I think I’ve said “say” too much and now it sounds weird…”

“I feel that way too,” he replies, the smallest curve of his lip breaking the straight line. He adores the way you rant when you're nervous, it is now a new thing he is adding to his list. He loves making you nervous because you give him little details about yourself. “Thank you for finally getting the balls to tell me. Took you long enough.”

You didn’t expect him to say that. You didn’t practice that in the shower! “Me?! You were the one who was avoiding me!” You were shouting, but it was all fun now. A laugh followed as a bright smile crept on your face. Something like a weight felt lifted off your shoulders, off your chest.

“But who said something first?”

“You said you liked my breasts and that you get jealous easily. Doesn’t seem like you were confessing any feelings,” You jokingly roll your eyes as he scoots closer to you.

“Why would I get jealous if I didn’t like ya? Thought I made tha’ obvious.”

“Could have been more. Then we could have avoided this all together.”

“You probably would’ve just stood there with y’mouth open.”

Your mouth indeed falls open as he laughs, his comment causing you to gasp in joking offense. You take that moment to punch his shoulder, but his hand catches your wrist during the movement. Your laughs are halted when you both realize how close you are; your thighs were touching and his face was only a few inches from yours. The whiff of his scent gave you flashbacks to last night when he caught you and you were pressed perfectly against his toned chest. Thinking of his chest made you remember the videos you saw online and how addicting they were to watch, especially after you found out it actually was Harry. Now, you know how porn addicts come to be.

Unintentionally, you lick your lips while looking at his. You don’t miss the way he does the same, glaring at your lips like he’s starving and their his last meal. Your lips have haunted him ever since your first day; painted in red and screaming fierce. The way you smiled was mesmerizing to Harry, but you could say the same about Harry’s effortless charm. It’s been too long dreaming and imagining your lips on his own. Now, with everything out in the open–besides the whole porn star thing, which is for another time–maybe he can finally kiss those lips. Kiss them so well that he ruins any other man for you in the bar, in school, in porn, in life. Staring at your lips made Harry think crazy things. He can’t even imagine the filth his brain will conjure if he sees your naked body in real life.

He’s getting too ahead of himself.

“You smell good,” You whispered, forcing yourself to break the pressing tension. You two were slowly inching towards each other, so he could feel your words float over his own lips like a ghost. He hums at the feeling and the compliment. “Like a forest.”

“How long are we gonna sit like this until I can kiss ya?” The statement made your cheeks blaze with fire and your stomach tumble.

Clearly you were both done beating around the bush.

“I was waiting for you to ask! What if you didn’t want to? You know how important consent is too–”

But Harry doesn’t wait for you to stop your incessant rant. He smashes his lips to yours like he’s been dying to all this time. Your lips mush together, creating a warm, gooey feeling inside of your stomach. Harry releases your wrist and slides his hands down to your waist and carries you over to his lap. You gently bite down on his bottom lip seductively, causing him to groan against you. His rough hands pinch the skin of your hips, making you squeak in his mouth. He uses the opportunity to slide his tongue in, exploring your mouth like its new land on earth.

It’s been so long for you, you can barely remember the last time you’ve been kissed. But you know for damn sure it was never like this. It was never this fiery, this passionate, this wanted, this needed. Kissing Harry was like drinking water after being dehydrated; so obsessively satisfying, you can’t get enough. Until you drink too much and then your stomach hurts, but you doubt that will happen.

Harry can feel himself growing impressively hard underneath you. Even with you above him fully clothed has his body and mind going haywire. He’s not sure how far this is going to go, but he’s also not sure how long he’s going to last. Shit, if you even palm his bulge he might come.

And you thought he didn’t want this.

Your hands around his neck slide their way down his chest as his grip on your hips gets tighter. He pushes you closer, making you arch your back until your breasts are pressing against his chest. The abrupt movement causes the kiss to break, a breathless gasp eliciting from your swollen mouth.

“Jesus,” Harry huffs out.

“What?”

Harry ignores your question. “What do y’want?”

“You…? I thought I made that pretty clear–”

“Don’t be a smart mouth. Or I’ll put it to good use,” His threat sends a tingle straight to your core, which was covered by your soaking underwear. Just the idea of him forcing you on the floor to take his cock in your throat was erotic enough for you to get off of. Actually doing it might make you come on the spot. “What, you like that?”

“What if I do?”

“Then I can make it happen, baby.”

“But what if I want something else more?”

“Say the words.”

You hesitated. As a porn star, you’re pretty good with dirty talk. In the past, you have had no problem whispering sweet, seductive words. But Harry has your tongue tied, brain mushy, and body gooey.

“I want you inside of me.” You were straight-forward. Honest. After this whole ordeal with you two, you figured you both deserved some relief.

“I’ve been waiting too fuckin’ long for those words.”

Without wasting another minute, Harry lifts both you and himself off the couch. You make a little squeal sound before grabbing on tight to him so you don’t fall. When you somehow get to his bedroom, you’re gently tossed on his bed with a smile hanging from your lips. Harry climbs over you and immediately tugs the hem of your shirt.

“Please take it off.”

You did not need to tell him twice.

Harry did just as you asked as quickly as possible because you two were both getting a bit desperate. Like before, Harry loves edging and teasing and being in control. And one day, he’s going to do it all with you. But right now, he just needs to be inside of you, as selfish as it sounds.

Once he flips your shirt off, you’re brisk to clip off your bra. Goosebumps pimple along your skin in anticipation of what’s to come as Harry’s eyes flit over your body. He swallows harshly, mind swimming in a thousand thoughts that were all related to you. His searing gaze only makes you more flushed with heat, elbows sinking into the mattress while you wait for him to do something. You push yourself up and tug the end of his T-shirt.

“Well, what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“‘Cause you’re really here.”

“That is so sweet, but please, fuck me first. I need it.” Maybe his searing gaze also gave you a newfound confidence that allowed you to say what was actually on your mind. His intense stare made you feel powerful. Like you were in control.

“Jesus Christ, we have to fix that mouth,” he growls as you slide off his shirt over his head while he kneels on the edge of the bed. You don’t even get another word in before he’s crashing his lips back onto yours in another heated kiss.

It’s not much different from the first one–maybe a little more sloppy because you’re both getting needy. Both your mouths are sloshed together with sparks tingling on your tongues. Those sparks are igniting flames within your souls, making the stress and yearning worth it. Everything felt worth it when you two were this close together.

With the same passion, Harry forces himself away from your mouth and down your neck. He’s not gentle with his teeth, nibbling with each peck of your skin he passes. Each nick injects excitement through your veins, turning you on more than you would like to admit. You already know that there will be little marks because your skin is so sensitive, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You actually are endeared by a bunch of little marks rather than a few huge ones. Maybe you can pass the miniature hickies off as freckles…

When Harry gets to your breasts, he wants to stop and stare. Take a few long minutes to just encompass the beauty that is in front of him. But he assumes you don’t want to be ogled anymore, since he was standing still and gazing at you like a teenage girl taking a picture of a pink sunset. So, instead, his lips enclose around your nipple. His tongue glides around it, feeling its pointiness peak until he is satisfied with the sounds coming from your lewd mouth. He does the same to the other side until you’re panting and your heart has turned erratic.

His pink lips trail down your torso, marking each inch of skin with a bit of saliva and a warm kiss. His fingers traced your shape, gently scratching at your sides until you were practically squirming in his touch. You’ve never been this wet in your life and it was driving you insane. Harry was driving you insane.

“So soft, Honey,” he coos when he reaches the waistline of your pants. You help him remove the clothing, so you’re not wasting anymore time because it’s blatantly obvious you’re both desperate as hell. His compliment made your skin tingle and your spine shiver. That nickname would be the death of you, you were sure of it. He made you feel all hot and dizzy but also made you gooey and cared for. It was an intense combination of emotions that you definitely needed to sort out. But after you get his cock inside of you.

Yeah. You could settle for that.

Harry now had a full view of your underwear, which was completely soaked through. But at this point, you’re not even embarrassed as much as you are needy. Hell, you’re even spreading your legs wider for him so he has quicker access to you. Yeah. It was that bad.

“Look at you all wet and drippy,” Harry smirks as he hooks his fingers in your panties. He surprises you by pulling them up, the fabric being consumed by your pussy lips. “Such a pretty cunt. Never even seen you this wet on a video. I must be special.”

“It’s all for you, Harry. Or should I say Daddy?” Now, you were smirking. You were only teasing, but at the same time, you were testing the waters. If Harry’s username used the title, you had an inkling that he had some type of kink towards it, right?

With a subtle grunt, he yanks your legs closer to him and widens them even further apart. He doesn’t even hesitate to rip your panties in half and discard the now wasted fabric.

“Harry!” You yelled, shocked at how quickly bare you are. And that he just shredded your underwear. But it was also kind of hot. Like very hot. He slapped the inside of your thigh as a warning, a stinging zip coursing straight to your core.

“No more Harry for you. Since y’want to be such a smart mouth, when you speak, y’better say Daddy.”

Before you know it, his head is lowering towards your cunt. His lips latch onto your clit similarly to your nipple and suck. You let out a gasping moan, fingers instantly clawing at the sheets of his bed. His tongue delves into your folds and warmly slips into you like you wished his cock would. But you were currently in heaven with the heat of his mouth devouring you like his last meal on Earth.

The way his large hands gripped and man-handled your thighs was enough to leave bruising. But you wanted the bruising. You wanted to feel the pain and soreness of this tomorrow just in case it never happens again. You’re not sure what all of this is going to mean for you guys, but you don’t think this will be the end. No, you think it’s going to be the beginning.

You could feel yourself getting wetter with each lick and slurp. Your tailbone was beginning to ache from arching your back to the absolute max. Once that all-too familiar feeling was rushing towards you like a train, Harry’s mouth only got quicker. He even started spitting on your cunt and watched the juices mix together, and that only made your insides clench at the lewdness of it all. Harry was a dirty, dirty man. You knew he was only showing bits and pieces of himself. You wanted to unravel it all and learn more about him and what he liked. But maybe that was for another time…

Without realizing it, your hands were sewn in his brown curls, forcing his head to remain on your clit until you reached your high. Harry’s groans were muffled into vibrations as you tugged, getting more pleasure through them. Your hips were moving in circular motions, but Harry pressed you down with his forearm to keep you flat and still.

“Har–” He pinched your ass, causing you to shriek and correct yourself, “Daddy, please, I’m so close. I’m right there.”

You rarely begged. On your livestreams and videos, you were confident and sexy and seducing because that’s what your audience liked. It’s what you’ve learned and grown to do. You weren’t used to needing something from someone else so fucking bad that you were pleading for them to make you satisfied. Harry’s mouth was currently your kryptonite because you would do anything for him to get you to the finish line.

He suckled on your clit for a few long seconds before you were coming in his mouth. Chants of his title were echoing loudly in his room that the neighbors probably thought you were dying. You were, just in a different way. Harry was gladly swallowing all your juices , his chin sloppy with all them. When it all got too much, you tried to push him away, but he didn’t move until he was completely done.

“Taste so sweet. Just like honey.”

He doesn’t fail to bring more heat onto your skin, even after just having his mouth on you. Something about the way he compliments you and manages to incorporate the word honey will always get you. He seems to read you so easily, and no one’s ever done that before.

“Knew from the video that you’d taste amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe you sent me that video by the way.”

“What? Why?”

“What if it wasn’t me?”

“It’s my job, Harry.”

“So? You were moanin’ my name. That means it’s for me. You’re for me.” The staring that was occurring between you quickly ended as your eyes flitted away from him. You made sure to look anywhere else but him as you heard the sound of his pants falling. Sometimes, Harry could be pretty blunt in the way he claimed you, but at the same time very guarded. He’s saying that you’re his, but you two haven’t even discussed things that far yet.

“Says who?”

“Says me. Right now,” Harry practically growls as he climbs over your body again, his insane physique hovering over you. You never thought you would actually see the day that Harry–the charming, tattooed, sexy man you worked with–was on top of you. You’ve only ever envisioned him in your wet dreams doing the most sinful things known. God wouldn’t be able to forgive the sins you’ve conjured in your brain.

You don’t even get to retort because you’re only thinking about his cock. You had felt his impressive bulge on the couch and assumed he had been rocking himself into the bed while eating you out. As he kissed your neck again, you would feel his hardness poking at you greedily, but you haven’t even looked at it yet. It was probably just as pretty as it was in all his videos.

He extends himself towards his night stand while you’re caught in your thoughts, snatching a condom. You’re glad he didn’t ask to go bare like most guys do. But “most guys” to you are a bunch of college losers who just want to get their dick wet and don’t actually care about the consequences. If you were to get pregnant, they probably wouldn’t even blink an eye before leaving. But you knew Harry wasn’t like that. No, he was the type to think things through and actually be mature about things. Besides the fact that he avoided you…but it’s not like you were very mature about it either. Maybe the age distance between you and Harry was something that you needed. The college boys just weren’t doing it for you.

It’s strange how so many thoughts can sprout from a simple as Harry grabbing a condom. The bare fucking minimum.

“What’s wrong?” Harry’s voice was full of concern as his thick thumb rubbed over your warm cheek. You hadn’t even realized how close he had gotten since he had stretched over towards the drawer and you didn’t know that he’d already put the condom on. So, again, you missed the sight of his huge, God-like dick in-person. Despite all of that, a ping of appreciation hit you right in the heart at Harry’s attention to detail because you know that those college boys wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing.

“Nothing, I–”

“Don’t lie, Honey. Do y’still want this? We don’t have to,” he reassured, eyes sparking with something that was different from the hidden lust. His voice could be rough and firm, but it could also be soothing and sweet. He had these sides to him that he would encompass. Not necessarily switch like a light but transition into smoothly.

“Harry, I’m fine. I promise. This is the only thing I want right now,” You rested your hand on top of his on your cheek. At that moment, everything felt a little more intimate. A little more love-like. The idea of sex turning into “love-making” currently terrified you, but the racing of your heart wasn’t from fear. No, it felt like it was exciting and anxious but in the best way. “Actually, I would be not so fine if you didn’t put your dick in me.”

“You have such a dirty mouth when you’re blunt, Honey,” Harry smoothes his hand down your body and finds your clit again, rubbing gentle circles over the throbbing nerves. Even though you just came only minutes prior, you continued to get wet with every second you were waiting for him. The sight of his body with all those beautiful designs was enough to get you ready for another. He didn’t even have to work you up.

“Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I’m hearin’ more attitude than screams of m’name. Let’s change that.”

With a devilish smirk, Harry pushes himself close to you and levels into you. His cock enters you slowly but fully as your lungs forget to breathe. Realizing this, you breathe before Harry can scold you about it. His dick was nearly all in because you could feel the weight of his thighs hovering over you deliciously along with the rest of his tattooed body.

When Harry hears and sees you take a deep breath, he pulls out just to push back in again. You elicit a shaky moan as Harry groans gravelly near your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry moans louder into the air as his thrusts become harder, more direct. With just those few thrusts, he already knows exactly where your weakness is and makes it his life goal to hit it every single time.

Harry’s hips move rapidly, pinning your body to the bed as you wiggle underneath him. His muscles are contracting against the pressure of each insane plunge into you while your insides are being reassorted. His size makes it difficult to move, difficult to breathe, yet you’re loving it immensely.

Staring at his arms, you don’t even think about grabbing one of his arms that’s holding him up and laying it on your neck. One of Harry’s furrowed eyebrows lifts up in surprise before that familiar smirk is plastered right back onto his smug face.

“Fuckin’ filthy. I knew you were. What else are y’hiding from me?” Harry’s hand wraps around your neck just as you silently asked. As his fingers block your air flow just enough to make you a little fuzzy, your cunt clenched around his cock. Besides your moans and groans and whimpers, the sound of skin to skin is bouncing across the bedroom like your own personal song. Your anthem. When he releases, the blood flow returns, but he keeps his hand there. “C’mon, Y/N, tell me. What other kinks do you have?”

“I know y’like it rough. Don’t like it when Daddy goes too easy on ya. Do you like to be spanked too? Hmm? Slapped and bitten? Like to have marks all over you so everyone can see?” His brutal thrusts never stop, not even when his breath becomes a little lost. He’s slamming into you like he’s trying to make a dent in your organs, and quite frankly, he just might if he keeps going at the rate he is. But you don’t seem to care too much at the moment. “Do you like people watching? Is that why you post videos of our pretty, little cunt all over the internet? So people can watch you?”

“I don’t hear you,” his voice, raspy and sexy, whispered in a low-threat type of way as his hand rubs over the pulse of your neck temptingly again.

“I g-guess I do like people watching me…” Your voice was breathless as your mind became foggy. Harry did have a way of doing that to you, especially with his hand on your now strained neck. “L-Like when you watch me.”

“‘Course you do. That’s ‘cause you’re dirty. Just like me.” If it was possible, he rocks into you more barbarically until your legs are shaking. You can feel the muscles in your thighs start to spasm, urging to close as you chase your inevitable high.

“Daddy, God, you’re so big. So, so big,” You whined helplessly into the sex-filled air. Your hairs were scratching, tugging, pulling, clawing at everything at the same time, trying to manage all the intense pleasure that was coursing through your body. It was almost too much to handle. Harry seemed to know how to push your limits without killing you, and you’ve craved that feeling for so long. “L-Love your cock. Oh my God!”

“Poor baby. I’ve gotten you all cock drunk; you can’t think of anything else besides m’cock. ‘S that good, huh?” A choppy chuckle elicits from his mouth and wavers over to your ear. Your chest was pressing into his as your core clutched with the sense of near-orgasm. “Gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes…” You were a mumbled, grumbled mess. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t talk straight. Harry was impairing all of your abilities with his dirty talk and his magical dick.

No, seriously. Was it like a thick magic wand or something?

Harry squeezes on your neck a couple times, lightly, just to push you right over the edge. Harry seemed to be a quick learner when it came to your body because you were instantly coming then. As Harry felt you orgasm for the second time tonight, he finally let go of his own. When you were coming around his tongue at the beginning of this all, he was having a hard time trying to not come in his own pants. He may have been stupid last night and selfish earlier, but he wasn’t going to do it again. He was going to make up for being a selfish prick and show you how he actually treats a woman. Because you deserve to be treated with nothing less than the best.

After you’re both settled, Harry regretfully slips out of you. Clearly, you felt the same way because you whined as he removed himself. After being inside of you and passing through the gates of heaven, why would Harry want to leave? But even though Harry wants to be as close to you as possible by simply cockwarming all day, he doesn’t want to rush this. It’s new, even if you guys have been friends for some time.

Plucking off the condom and knotting it, Harry waltzes towards his bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up. The soft smile on your face when he returns highlights how grateful you are for his aftercare as he gently wipes up the mess both of you helped create.

“How do you feel?” Harry genuinely asks before placing the towel at the foot of his bed. He briskly moves to his dresser to pick out a new pair of boxers.

“I’m sorry if this offends you, but you have a great ass,” You bluntly state, completely avoiding his question. “But I’m okay.”

Harry laughs as he slips on the clothing. “Just okay? No pain?”

“Yeah. If okay translates to “my vagina is broken for every man ever and both my legs are going to hate me tomorrow”,” You smile innocently as Harry grabs two shirts. He chucks one at you, smiling goofily. It hits you in the face with a laugh before you slip it over your head.

“Good.”

“Good? I might have to take a week off work to heal from the damages.”

“Guess you’ll just have to stay in my bed.”

You roll your eyes before pushing yourself off his bed, contradicting his statement.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to my real boyfriend’s house,” You roll your eyes again facetiously and leave his room, rounding the same corner that he did before yelling, “Bathroom!”

When you return, you plop yourself on Harry’s bed like it was normal. It was comfortable. It felt right. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t forced. That was the good thing about two friends getting together. After sex, or work, or school, or just a bad day, or even a good day, they could always just talk. As you sat on Harry’s bed, it was easy to joke and make conversation while still feeling that subtle spark of electricity in between you two. That spark was the difference between platonic and romantic.

“We should watch a movie,” You suggested.

“Where should we look? PornHub?” His dry humor made you laugh as you cozied up in his bed. He didn’t hesitate to pull you close and you liked that. Maybe a little too much for your own good. Your heart was thumping in a way that was melting away the frozen walls around it. It made you happy that something in your life finally seemed to be working out.

“Maybe start with Netflix,” You laid your head on his shoulder as the ironic logo appeared on his TV. “I, um.”

“What?” Harry peeked down at you.

“I think I like this a lot,” Harry smiles at you. He could tell from the beginning that it was hard for you to say things like that to him. That’s why it made him feel like such an asshole for storming out the other night. You needed time to process everything he had just told you, but he was too nervous for your rejection, so he left. Even though he’s six years older than you and may seem more mature, everyone makes stupid and selfish mistakes.

“Well, I hope so, Honey, ‘cause I do too,” Even those simple words have the ability to warm and satisfy your scared, little heart.

“But I’m still not taking your money.”

–

i hope you all liked these two :))

taglist:

@whoreonmondays @armystay89 @meighasfangirldiary @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @likeapplejuicenpeach | @kathb59 @gem1712 @ppleasingg @onlyangle1 @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921 @storyschanging

crossed out= not able to tag

[creepy-friday]

PLS PLS PLS I NEED MORE PROXY THINGS I KEEP REREADING THE OLD ONES AND U WRITE SO WELL

Sure thing!I noticed a lot of people are rereading the old ones so I promise I will come back with more ideas!

Female!Proxy toughts Headcanons for every creep of the mansion

Warnings: foul language, suggestive themes, violence

Masky thinks he should've been in your place.He wants your attention but at the same time hates your guts.Always wants to pick a fight with you,maybe he's in such a contradiction with himself because your personality softened his sharp edges making him confused.

Hoodie acts all buddy-buddy with you when the two of you aren't on duty.He doesn't hide the way the tension rises from other people's perspective when he talks to you.He's simply curious about who you truly are,an individual like you in such a fucked up place and in such a high position is..intriguing to say at least.

Toby follows your orders and values your presence the most out of the other proxies he's biased. Because he's been taken advantage of many times,your humanity sparked his hope,he thinks that in you he can actually find something heart warming in this hell hole.

Cody is a little annoying at times.Since you didn't shove him off he deeply thinks you're into him,that's why he keeps on inviting you to see the dangerous shit he's creating.

Kate uses every chance she has to imply that you have sexual relationships with the proxies.She's isn't jealous nor wants to take your place,she simply sees herself as slightly superior since she's been here before you.

Jeff has personal issues with every resident near him,including you.He doesn't think of himself as highly as Masky tough.All the mocking and tantrums are because he doesn't belive your good intentions.

Ben is a fucking menace and fucks with your head since he knows you can't physically hurt him.He thinks you're by far the most interesting creep to watch.

EJ respects you.He thinks that you are disgusted by him almost as he is of himself given your role as a demon hunter.His insecurity made him give up any reason to try to talk to you.Watching from afar he knows you're one of the few residents that are still human by heart.

Liu has a very high opinion about yourself.You already proved to be a good person to him when you took EJ's side in an argument with Masky.He would make conversation with you whenever you two are around.

Sully might act like Liu around you so that he can see more of you.Just like other creeps,he fantasies about having a hand to hand spare with you.He talks to you like you're a pice of meat sometimes but he acknowledges your strength.

Slenderman's presence is being known by his general sickness to the other creeps but the fever is high and tormenting when it comes to you.It's clear that he favors you and the fact that he chose you as his watchdog is enough to bring your confidence skyrocket.

Jane watches you from afar.She thinks you're a good fit to be a leader.Surprisingly,she agreed with your every decision and never had anything to add or to take.

Zero is jealous of you and your high status.She despises your guts and would team up with anyone to put you down or to shame you.She's a bitch but I bet she would fuck you tough.She's the "do I want to be her or be with her?"

Clockwork likes how a woman is top shit and she treats you as an equal.Might ask you for your opinion and expects you to listen to hers as well.She thinks you're a good leader.

Nina adores you.You genuinely had a good impact on her mental health and looks up to you.She would be shocked if you would hurt her in any way,after everything she went trough all she needs is a friend.The choice is yours.

Sally thinks that you are really cool and wishes you would take that mask off more often.Since you don't brush her off like the others she's looking forward to talk to you when you're not busy.Confidently slips tea parties invites down your door.

Bloody Painter is mostly indifferent to the power dynamics in the mansion.Sure,he will be respectful to you since that's in his personality but he's apathetic to anything that isn't "aesthetically pleasing".He judges a book by its cover and the ghoul-like design on your mask makes him believe you're no different from the creatures you encounter in the forest.Misunderstanding at its best