#college is near and I'm scREWED

[guardyourkneecaps]

I've been feeling like I need to cry all afternoon but my brain just feels wired and I just find something else to do

but I feel like if I could cry I would feel better

instead I am stuck either on some weird tangent or staring into space

#perhaps I've had too much caffiene and it's fucking up my tear ducts #I fucked up my audition for the musical at college #there was a partner section near the beginning of the dance #mine messed up which then threw me off for the whole thing and I could barely remember the moves #and up until that point I'd actually been really proud of myself because I'm really really bad at picking up choreography so #the fact that I'd managed to get the whole thing pretty much down made me so happy #but I guess it's just another thing I've screwed up hey-fucking-ho

[chaotic-mystery]

I would commit first degree murder to know your thoughts on calling best friends dad Joel daddy for the first time because 🥵🥴.

Just imagine being bent over his lap as he fingers you, squirming because it’s too much and his hand is covering your mouth because you’re being “too fucking loud”

Loosing control and begging daddy to let you cum

Okay bye I gotta sleep

- 💆‍♀️

"Say it again sweet girl, say what you said at the dinner table when you thanked me for dinner." He hissed at you while rubbed his hand over your ass cheek before giving a firm smack. You were joking earlier when you repeated Sarah's words after she thanked her dad for cooking dinner, but somehow it was different when you said daddy instead of dad. She didn't seem to mind or notice the intent with it, but Joel did. Maybe it was the way you batted your lashes at him while you watched him choke on his water a little bit, maybe it was the way your foot rubbed against his leg under the table.

"Daddy, please I- I need you please touch me." He chuckled and yanked your panties down roughly and went back to caressing your ass. “Where should I touch you baby? Hm? Tell daddy where you want him to touch you.”

You reached under yourself as you were laying across his lap and started giving yourself relief with your fingers on your throbbing clit, whimpering and moaning his name ever so quietly. He spanked you roughly and jerked your arm out from under you, “I said tell me, not show me. Use your words, had no issue before, bunny.” His tone was intimidating but warm enough to leave you wanting more. He set your chest on fire and sent your mind to the heavens, you needed him like a plant needed water, you were in heat. He drove you mad earlier the way he gripped his wine glass, the way he winked at you when he gave a small toast to the two of "his girls" being home for a couple weeks from college, he knew the smirk he had would get your head spinning.

"Touch me between my legs please- oh my god- I need you so bad, please daddy" you whined out and rested your head on the couch cushion. His warm fingers glided against your wet folds, grazing over your sensitive clit. "Oooh you mean right here, pretty girl?" Joel purred quietly and watched as your face contorted with pleasure. Your eyes screwed shut as he moved his fingers faster, his groans matching yours. He loved seeing how much you needed him, how much power he had over you and your body. "What if I touch you here baby doll? Would you like that?" He asks as he teased your entrance. Your hand squeezed the couch cushion and he didn't even finish his sentence before you were nodding your head in agreement.

"You're so mean the way you tease me after being gone for so long" you whined and wiggled impatiently, trying to create more friction between your legs somehow. "I'm mean, is that it baby? You haven't seen mean." Joel's hand pressed against your back to stop your squirming and his two fingers slipped inside you with ease and he let out a grunt. "Like a fuckin' glove baby doll, soaked for daddy, huh?" he was practically purring from the way your body reacted to him, how you squeezed around his fingers as they curled inside you while pumping in and out.

His warm hand held you in place as he went faster, groaning along with you while he watched closely at what he was doing to you. Your whiny moans got louder and his hand flew from your back to over your mouth, squishing your cheeks tightly to muffle you. “S’that feel so good bunny you can’t keep your dirty mouth shut? Bein too fuckin’ loud, that’s not what good girls do when they’re trying to secretly fuck their best friends dad.” Your legs squirmed from pleasure and you cried our as your nearing orgasm started to take over.

“Don’t you fuckin’ cum until I say so, you got that baby doll?” He mumbled against your temple before kissing your ear and biting it softly. Joel’s fingers never slowed once, they consistently hit the right spot inside that just made you melt and have you do anything he wanted. How the hell did he expect you to hold off having one of your best orgasms? “Daddy please I can’t please let me cum, I wanna cum for you, make me feel so good” your begging only turned him on more as it was muffled against the palm of his hand. He had full control over you and that alone could’ve made him cum in his pants.

He was the first man to make you feel this way, like you were mere seconds away from feeling like your world was crashing down. “You think you deserve to cum, sweetheart? Tell daddy why you should get that privilege.” His hand left your mouth and you gasped for air a little bit before trying to get your sentence out. “I’m a good girl for you daddy, please- I won’t tease you anymore in front of people I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, let me cum and show you how much I missed you, please daddy.” He watched you talk circles around yourself and stutter from his fingers pushed into you harder, your thighs squeezing shut as hard as you could to keep your orgasm at bay. “Go on then, bunny. Cum all over my hand, show me you missed me.”

You buried your head in the cushion as you practically screamed while your body shook, your orgasm taking control. He pulled you close as he slowed down, fingers stopping just before they were almost out of you, then plunging deep back inside. Jolting and wiggling ensued as it felt like crashing waves over your body and Joel quietly shushed you. Your muffled moans were almost silent with how hard you had your face pressed into the cushion. His fingers make their way out of your entrance and to his lips as Joel licked them clean and moaned desperately as he tasted how good you were. “You taste so delicious my pretty baby" Joel whispered before he kissed the crown of your head.

#joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us #joel tlou #bfd!joel smut #bfd!joel #best friends dad joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #anon❦received #💆‍♀️ nonnie!

[luveline]

hi jade! this is kind of a random request but I was wondering if for ur zombie!au you would write where something happens that reminds reader of the guy that kidnapped her at the college a while after it happened and she’s upset she’s still thinking ab him but Steve comforts her and it’s all fluffy sorry if this is too specific love u!

zombie au —steve comforts you through the panic of a bad memory. fem, 1.3k

The tent is quiet. You've taken the blankets out while the sun is high, having washed them and needing her help to get them dry again, and your collective belongings make a meagre pile in one corner. If you wanted, you could lay down flat. 

Might as well, you decide. The ground is far from unfamiliar, no rock nor pebble capable of disturbing you. 

Your back aches, your neck worse, and an hour or two of sleep would do you good no matter how unforgiving the floor is, but it isn't your comfort that's the problem. You hear a skittering sound and throw your gaze to one corner of the tent. A footstep, and your attention is drawn to the other. 

It's hard to relax without a lap to hide your face in, or a rough, familiar hand in the curve of your neck. 

You're not sure where Steve is today. It's like that here, sometimes. You'll be told to do one thing and sent to do another, and while you'd been sent home ages ago, he's still out, and so is Robin. 

You miss her a lot lately. She's not around much. To think you hadn't trusted her when you first met… it's all silly looking back. You couldn't believe she wanted to be your friend until after she'd— 

Connor. 

You bite your cheek and try not to think about it. You'd found it hard to trust Robin until she, with Steve (and few others) came to find you. When Connor stole you. Paralysed with fear, you'd walked miles in the cold, his pistol a threat tucked into his jeans. 

The memories surface one at a time like barbs emerging from a slow sand. How stupid you were. How scared. And Connor ‘The Creep’, how cruel he'd been, the crush of his hand on your face and the way he'd thrown your head back into a wall. The disorientation, the ache of your wrists, the claustrophobia. All of it. 

You raise your hand to your face and feel for the scars. They're miniscule now, practically invisible. They would've faded completely if they hadn't gotten infected. Your index nail catches on the worst one near your mouth and feels back and forth the length of it with a morbid sense of otherness. 

It hadn't taken much for him to do whatever it was he wanted to do. If Steve hadn't cared enough to look for you, Connor would've done much worse. You'd been completely and totally helpless, and that feeling isn't one the heart likes to remember. Your pulse climbs, climbs, races, a sudden pressure in your throat like you might gag. You hurry into a sitting position with a hand on your heart, the other screwed into the floor of the tent, and struggle to draw breath. Each inhale feels like you've pulled it through a narrow straw. 

He must hear it from outside of the tent. “Y/N?” Steve asks worriedly, his voice before his face, though his face swiftly follows as he brushes aside the tents opening to find you. “What's wrong?” 

You wave a hand at him weakly. 

He climbs in, the clay of the river mud thick on his shoes and hard not to think of as he kneels at your side. “Hey,” he says, his hand on your wrist, eyebrows tugged down into a deep furrow. “Why are you panicking? You're okay.” 

“I'm fine.” 

“Yeah, you are.” He smiles, barely, giving your hand a weak squeeze. “You're fine. So let's breathe.” 

Steve takes big, deep breaths for you to follow. You fail to copy him, but it doesn't matter. His being here is enough to feel safe again, to be here, and not a hundred miles northward, huddled and crying in an abandoned cabin thinking you'd never get to go home. 

“Ah,” you say, unintelligible sputter, chest aching like a wound, “sorry, sorry,” —you duck your head— “sorry.” 

“Would you–” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“Stop it.” He ducks his head low to find you, hand searching for your other, bringing both to hold atop your knees. “What's the matter, huh? Why are you freaking out?” 

He speaks gently, but betrays his own panic with a bad habit, the slightest quirk of his mouth. 

“It won't make sense.”

“Says who?” 

“It was a long time ago.” 

Steve's lips part. 

“It–” Your eyes ache, your throat too. “It's– It doesn't make any sense, I shouldn't be–” You shake your head. 

Steve lets go of your wrists. “Honey, it doesn't matter when it happened,” he says, measured, as though painting each word between you one by one. 

“I was just laying down and I was thinking about Connor. Why am I still thinking about him?” You stare hard at the spot between his eyes. “It's been so long since… My hands…” 

Steve's eyelashes flare with surprise, but he hides it quickly, a more solid expression of unhappiness taking place. “Aw, babe,” he says under his breath. He brings his fingers to your cheek and wipes up and down reassuringly. “I don't think you get to choose. We don't pick what stays around, right?” 

“I don't want to think about it at all.” You inhale too quick and Steve cups your cheek. 

“Relax,” he says, still so quiet. “Who cares why you're thinking about it? You're not doing anything wrong. You didn't do anything wrong.” He looks at you imploringly. “You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, of course I do. He wasn't well–” 

“No, he wasn't. And he hurt you, and if you think about it, that's okay. Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Can you–?” 

His smile softens. He wraps his arms around your waist, forcing you to go over his shoulders as he leans back to drag you in. You let the entirety of your weight sink into his grasp, sighing as he sighs, and breathing in again with his breath. His hair smells like the river, and his shirt is damp under your hands. He's cold, likely tired from a long day, but he doesn't give any indication to you that this is too much to have to deal with. If anything, you'd think he's quite enjoying himself, his sigh long and relieved. 

“Please don't panic about him,” he says into your collar. “Don't be scared. Nobody's ever getting near you like that again, I swear.” 

“I'm not scared.” Even if someone does get close, Steve's always gonna be right behind you. You know he'll fight to get you back. 

“Don't worry,” he says, pushing his face into your neck. “Sweetheart, please don't worry.” 

Sweetheart. You close your eyes and slouch into him like all the strength has left you. It's nice to just lean on him, and know he doesn't mind the weight. Despite everything, Steve loves you. 

“Sorry,” you say. For crying, and for having failed in the first place. 

He pushes you backward gently to take your face into two hands. 

“You get the wrong things wrong,” he says, smiling ruefully. “You know? You care about all the wrong things, and that's not– I'm not– I don't care. I don't care that you're upset about this, you don't have to be sorry for it, I just care that you're crying. We've talked about this before, haven't we? I'm sorry I haven't made it clear, but I'll keep trying, okay? And you need to keep telling me how you're feeling without thinking it's something to be sorry for.” 

You pout a little to stop from crying, tears anew in your waterline. To be loved by him is enough to put the past back in the past for now. “Do you ever stop talking?” you ask. 

“Nope,” he says, beaming at you as he wipes your cheek, “never. Not when I'm with you.” 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[jinwoosungs]

{ 117 }

shut up and dance with me.

tsukishima kei x fem.reader x oikawa tooru

college au

banner credit to @luneariaa ( and @madeimoisellesoleil for helping! )

dedicated to @svrakas for showing me the specific tiktok by @/5yaff that inspired this fic ♡

tsukishima kei was not a person who enjoyed going out to clubs-

yet the same couldn't be said about you, his girlfriend of 3 years.

he honestly felt so tired after coming home from a long day of classes. all he wanted to do was cuddle up next to you on your couch, put on some cheesy rom-com he knew would make you laugh and smile while indulging on your favorite takeout order.

yet the moment he entered your shared apartment and was greeted by your saccharine smile and melodious laughter, kei knew he was screwed.

because this- this was a telltale sign that you wanted something from him.

"alright spill, just what the hell do you want?"

you sputter a bit, appearing flustered while stomping your feet a bit (okay, he'll admit it, you were too fucking cute for your own good.)

"there's no need to be so rude, kei! i-i just thought, well... aren't you feeling a bit of cabin fever here? we haven't left our apartment in months."

kei scoffs while pushing up his glasses. "we've left the apartment plenty of times. or have you forgotten that we need groceries every month?"

"that's what i'm saying kei, i don't wanna leave our home just to do mundane things! i wanna go out to bars, i want to dance and just have a great time with my boyfriend!" as kei watches you go on and on about your supposed cabin fever, he notices how you kept pacing back and forth, sending him cute little pouty glances his way, your expression reminding him of a puppy desperate for attention.

"please can we go out and do something fun, kei, pleeeeaaase?"

he could feel the impending headache that was close to settling near his temple, yet something about disappointing you left a bad taste in his mouth.

with a sigh, he clenches his eyes shut while massaging the bridge of his nose. "alright fine, we can go out, but only for a few hours! when 11pm hits, we're out of there, got it?"

an excited squeal was heard coming from your parted lips, and kei relishes in the way you jump up against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to place a kiss against his lips before hurriedly bouncing away from him.

"i'll be out in 30 minutes, babe!"

he listens as you slam the door shut, running a hand through his blond hair while his golden irises narrow in annoyance, knowing he had to take some tylenol before heading out, just as a precaution to prevent any migraines from rearing its ugly head.

{ ... }

to say kei felt pissed the moment he stepped into the club would be a complete understatement.

he allows the heavy fumes to surround you and him, buying you one of your favorite drinks as he stands off to the side. his glare was obvious, and he kept you by his side throughout it all.

this was the worst idea ever, since kei did not feel like dancing. he refuses to remove himself from his spot on the wall, taking sips of his strawberry daiquiri that was way too sweet. from his periphery, he sees your jittery movements and asks what was wrong.

"uhm, well, this is my favorite song that's playing, and i'd really love it if you could dance with me, kei."

by now, the tylenol clearly was not working, for he could feel the pinpricks of a migraine beginning to break through, the dull pain coursing through him as he places the rest of the drink off to the side. your name comes out of his lips in an exasperated sigh. "if you want to dance, just dance by yourself. i have a headache and don't feel like doing anything."

kei refuses to allow your hurt expression to sway him, ignoring the painful lump in his throat at the sensation. he hated being the cause of your pain so much, even though he knows he can be a complete asshole at times.

he was about to say something, ready to change his mind and dance with you after all when the sight of someone with cinnamon brown hair and a wide grin stops him in his tracks.

"what's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone?" like a bucket filled with ice was just thrown at him, kei watches as your attention was stolen by that perfect stranger.

"oh, i-it's nothing. it's just, my favorite song is playing..."

"what?! then why are you waiting here?! let's go dance!"

not even looking back at him, kei watches as another man takes you in his arms and leads you to the dance floor, feeling the sharpest pain he had ever felt while watching you smiling and dancing with someone that wasn't him.

{ ... }

you decided to ignore kei the moment this handsome stranger whisks you away from him, giggling while having a great time dancing to your favorite song.

the man's rich laughter fills your ears, and you found your heart unexpectedly skipping its beats at the sound of it. "so... was that pissant your boyfriend?"

you roll your eyes while turning around to face him, still dancing with him while talking to him through the music, "yeah, he's an asshole, but... he's my asshole."

now that you could see him up close, you realized that this guy was utterly gorgeous. with gentle brown locks of hair cascading over his forehead and coffee brown eyes, you felt as though you could drown in his gaze. his full lips were upturned in a gentle smile when he suddenly leans in to whisper to you.

"don't look now, but i think your man is getting jealous."

"hmph, serves him right for not dancing with me."

you could feel the stranger's smile against the shell of your ear, "well, maybe this will get him to react like the way you want him to."

the fast-paced song suddenly turns into something slower and more intimate, making you gasp when your dance partner takes you in his arms while looking behind him. you couldn't tell what he was doing, but from the way he held up his hand while lifting up a finger aimed directly at your boyfriend, you could feel the heat rising up against your cheeks.

"you- why did you do that for?!"

the handsome stranger lets out another laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "i can tell how much you love him, but just between you and me, if you ever want a real man in your life, come find me. my name's oikawa tooru..."

before you could even deny the need to ever find him, tsukishima was immediately standing in front of you, shoving oikawa away with his chest puffing out in response. "i think that's enough of you grinding on some other man's woman. know your place, asshole."

his voice was filled with venom as oikawa takes a step backwards, hands held up in feign defeat as amusement was seen shining in his chocolate brown gaze. "hey hey, no need to get so upset, i was just helping her have a good time, that's all."

"we're leaving."

unable to say anything else, you look back at oikawa and give him an apologetic expression, only to be met with his wide smile as he mouths something at you.

take care and be happy.

{ ... }

"yo, jackass, your blind date just saw that stunt that you pulled and left the bar."

oikawa was forced to look away from the retreating couple, meeting his best friend's angry gaze with a sheepish expression on his face. "ah, damn iwa, did izumi leave after all?"

"that's what i just told you." iwaizumi's scowl was enough to make oikawa laugh as he walks away from the dance floor and back to his table. "was this why you invited me? so i could keep the girls you reject company while you fuck around?"

"ah come on, don't be that harsh iwa-chan! because when you put it that way, it makes me sound like a bastard."

"that's because you are a bastard." iwaizumi lets out a huff while downing the rest of his drink. "that tall blond looked like he was ready to kick your ass."

"heh, i highly doubt that." oikawa takes his glass and takes a swig out of it. "i was just playing cupid, you know? his girl was way too cute for a tightass like him, so i just did something to make him take action."

oikawa has to bite back his laughter, making a tremendous effort to keep it from bubbling out of him. "you? playing cupid? don't make me sick, assikawa."

"alright alright, i'll shut up." he sighs while leaning back on his seat, thinking back to that super cute girl with that beanpole boyfriend. "she was really cute though, so i'm hopeful that she'll take me up on my offer..."

{ ... }

"kei, s-stop, you're going too fast- k-kei, you're hurting me!"

with a gasp, kei finally stops walking, looking behind him to see you holding back your tears. he looks down and finally realizes that he has been holding your hand in a vicegrip while dragging you along, further fueling his guilt.

letting you go, he turns away from you while letting out a string of curses.

"i know you want to do it, so just fucking do it." kei was glaring at you, and he knew that he was just jealous and upset, but he couldn't stop himself.

"d-do what, kei?"

he takes your hand and leads you towards an alleyway, somewhere private and away from any prying eyes. "i know you want to break up with me and go back into that bastard's arms, that's what you want, right? a fun and energetic guy that shares all of your interests and will dance with you on a whim?"

"if that's what you want, then go, go and just-" before kei could continue with his rant, he was suddenly stopped by you. he sees the way you stand on the tip of your toes, placing your hand against his jawline before kissing him. you perfectly place your lips against his in a gentle kiss, and he, being too enamored with how sweet you tasted, basks in it.

the moment your lips met with his, he forgot all about the anger and annoyance he felt. the jealousy was whisked away, forgotten like a puff of smoke escaping into the cold night air. not wanting to let you go, kei wraps his arms around you, allowing his fingertips to play with the soft strands of your hair.

he could feel his heart pounding from out of his chest when you pull away from the kiss first. your eyes were filled with adoration and kindness, and he felt like such a bastard all over again upon realizing that you still loved him, even now.

with a grunt of your name, kei wraps his arms around you, burying his face within your hair while murmuring an apology.

"'m sorry."

"i'm sorry, too." was your reply. you silently beckon him to face you, framing his handsome face with your two hands.

"i know you were probably tired from your classes and wanted to just stay in. i'm sorry for making you go out when you probably felt tired. how about we order some ramen and we can stop by that bakery and get you the strawberry shortcake that you love so much?"

kei was absolutely astounded by how sweet you were, making him give you a tiny frown, "you're not mad at me?"

"of course not, silly."

"you don't want to leave me?"

"nope!"

"even when i'm a bastard?"

"you're my bastard."

"and you still love me?"

"i'll always love you!" you answer him with the widest and most beautiful smile that kei felt his heart ache and turn soft in response.

he remains silent, simply embracing you once more while pressing a kiss against your hair.

"next time we go out, i promise i'll shut up and dance with you when you ask."

and truly, you wouldn't want him any other way ♡

a.n. - it's been so long since i've written anything for my haikyuu!! boys; this is currently unedited, but i hope you readers enjoy this story! 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei fluff #tsukishima kei angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #.stories

[bro-atz]

freesia [flower garden — wooyoung]

inspired by: stranger than friends — webtoon

in which: all wooyoung wants is someone to love him.

pair: college student!wooyoung/gn!reader

word count: 1.6k

content: fluff, childish and immature (but trustworthy) wooyoung, a lot of drunk wooyoung, mentions of alcohol and drinking, a lot of swearing

rating: PG/PG-13 | safe for work!

flower garden masterlist

"I'm so over this! I hate love!"

"Jung Wooyoung, I swear to God—"

"No, Kang Yeosang, you don't understand! I am tired! I am tired of being alone! I'm tired of seeing the four of you dating and having the time of your lives while me? Wither poor fucking Wooyoung," a very drunk Wooyoung exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

"I think you're going to have a hard time because of, well, this," San pointed out— he thought he was being helpful, but he most certainly was not.

"Shut the fuck up, Choi San," the drunken boy mumbled before taking a giant swig from the shared vodka bottle sitting in the middle of the group.

"Sure, because none of us wanted more vodka," Yunho grimaced.

Wooyoung shot the boy a stink eye before falling to the ground. He was fine— he was just being dramatic and falling to the ground like a damsel in distress. The boys knew this routine of his at this point, and instead of console him like the had done countless times in the past, they just ignored him.

"Seriously, Wooyoung. I didn't find my significant other by acting like this," Mingi said with a gentle sigh. "You gotta change this attitude of yours."

"What attitude?"

"This one! This childish and immature ass of yours!" Yeosang blew up; he was honestly extremely tired of hearing Wooyoung sing the same fucking song over and over again for however long they had been friends.

"What, so I should act like fucking Mr. Prim-and-Proper over here? Or like Mr. Humble-Gentleman over there? I'm not a fucking flower boy," Wooyoung frowned as he pointed to Yunho and San respectively.

"No, you don't have to change who you are, but you could maybe try not acting like a spoiled brat and more like a grown adult," Yunho explained.

"But I'm not a grown adult. I'm a college student. We all are college students. You guys need to act your age."

Then, Wooyoung launched into one of his long rants, making the other four boys officially give up for the night. Talking to a drunk Wooyoung was like talking to an annoying, drunk wall. They just let him burn himself out and continued drinking peacefully amongst each other the second Wooyoung passed out for the night.

The next morning, Wooyoung woke up with the most insane hangover— he had never had a hangover before, so he was honestly shocked and scared.

"I'm gettin' too old for this crud," he started that morning as he plopped himself in the barstool near the kitchen.

"Shut the fuck up. You're a college student," Yunho, who was the first one up that morning, retorted while making his morning coffee. "But you could ease up on the alcohol."

"Gee, you think?"

"Anyway," Yunho side-stepped Wooyoung's heavy sarcasm. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"Of course I do," Wooyoung said without a hint of sarcasm this time around. "I always remember. I may be drunk, but I'm still mentally there."

"Right. Well, consider it. If you seriously want to be in a relationship, then not acting like a kid may help. People like more mature and serious guys."

"As if you know dating culture so well," Wooyoung scoffed.

"Mmm, considering I've been dating my significant other for five years, I'd say that I know how dating and relationships work by now. More than you for sure."

Wooyoung glared at the tall boy as he smiled smugly at him before heading out of the kitchen to start his day. Checking the time, Wooyoung grumbled to himself as he got himself ready for class. As much as he would love to skip the class he had, it was a lab, and he didn't want to screw over his lab partner. He might've been childish and immature, but you could always trust him to be there at least.

And thankfully for him and his blinding headache, this lab was a darkfield microscopy, which meant that the entire lab was going to be dark. Right before class, he popped a couple of painkillers and stepped into the room to see that they were assigned new lab partners. At first, Wooyoung was resentful because his lab partner was the literal best in dealing with him and his shenanigans, but the second Wooyoung saw who his partner was, he was thanking all the immortal entities in the universe.

He thought it could've been his drunk mind, but you were the most stunning person he had ever met. You were gorgeous with your hair tucked back, and even with the lab goggles on, you had the most beautiful eyes that Wooyoung could spot from miles away. Every single thing you did was so elegant and so graceful, and even though all you were doing was dropping blood onto the slide, it was the most magical thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

What he loved even more was that you would play into his antics. The lab was pretty quiet, so Wooyoung would whisper random jokes here and there to you, and you would respond with the most beautiful chuckle that made his heart swoon over and over and over again. Wooyoung was smitten, obsessed, and dare he say it—

"I'm in love!" Wooyoung cheered at the top of his lungs.

It was boys night again, and this time, Wooyoung was drunk, but he was happy.

"You're weirding me out, lowkey," San watched Wooyoung with wary eyes as he twirled around the dorm.

"San, you don't understand," Wooyoung sighed blissfully. "My lab partner is just... God, my lab partner is perfect. Also! Also, their name!"

He repeated your name, the syllables rolling off his tongue smoothly, your name leaving his lips like a knife cutting through warm butter. And for the rest of the night, that's all he could do. He just kept saying the name of the person he was completely in love with, pissing off his friends in a new way.

Alas, the lab had to end, and Wooyoung feared that you would never speak to him again. You had shared a microscope for a solid two weeks, but neither of you thought to ask to exchange phone numbers. Wooyoung wanted to, don't get him wrong, but every time he thought about doing it, he would chicken out because his heart would be racing at a million miles an hour, and he didn't want you to reject him or for him to have a heart attack just because he was going to ask someone out.

"You just need to ask. It's so simple," Mingi tried helping Wooyoung before he had to go to class.

"Wow, it's as if I didn't consider doing that. Thanks," Wooyoung, using his signature sarcasm, replied.

"Just rip the bandaid off, dude. I don't know what else to tell you. If they reject you, then you just move on. If not, then hooray, your efforts paid off."

"Also, you usually have no shame screaming at the top of your lungs while we're out in public drinking, so why are you finding it so hard to ask someone out?" Yeosang asked.

"Are you saying I should drink then ask them out?"

"No!" both boys chorused at the same time.

"Fucking— Just be yourself, Wooyoung," Yeosang said with a deep sigh. "Just give them a fucking flower and tell them you like them with a dumb joke that you usually make."

"But, I thought you told me I should change? That I should be more mature because people don't like childish, immature guys."

"Don't make me punch you. Get the fuck out, go to class, and for the love of God, just ask."

With Yeosang's words in mind, Wooyoung did exactly that. He was confident and outgoing, so asking you out shouldn't have been as big of a task as he was making it. So, he summoned up all of the courage within him, and he vowed to himself to do it that day.

"Wait! Wait," Wooyoung stopped you after class one day. "I... I want to ask you something."

"What's up?"

"So... Oh my fucking God, I don't know how to say this," Wooyoung muttered to himself, unaware that you could hear him. "Why the fuck is it so hard for me to tell you I like you?"

"I like you too, Wooyoung," you helped him out.

"Oh fuck, you heard that?" Wooyoung covered his mouth, his face turning bright red. "I'm going to jump out the window I'm so embarrassed!"

"Oh my God, Wooyoung! I said I like you too! You don't need to do that!" you couldn't help but laugh when Wooyoung actually turned to look for the nearest window to fling himself out of.

"W-Wait... You like me too?"

"Yeah, I do," you shot him the cutest smile that made him clutch his chest and nearly fall over. "I just didn't want to say anything because... Well, I was unsure because you seem to be like this around everyone, and—"

"No! I'm glad that... That you like me too... And I was wondering..." Wooyoung started mumbling again, his nerves taking over once more despite knowing that his feelings were mutual.

"Here's my phone. Give me your number," you stepped in again, making him wonder if you were reading his mind or if he was talking loud enough under his breath or if you were his freaking soulmate.

Wooyoung's fingers trembled as he typed in his phone number and handed your phone back to you.

"I'll text you," you said, that beautiful smile of yours only getting bigger, your face only getting more sparkly. "Maybe you'll find better words over text."

God, Wooyoung was ready to fall over when you giggled and waved good bye to him, the lovestruck boy motionless in the classroom as he watched the actual love of his life glide out of the room.

"I'm so in love! I love love!"

flower garden masterlist

flower garden taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @k-hotchoisan @khjoongie98

networks: @atzhouse @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @newworldnet @wonderlandnet

#codn: spring 24 #atzhouse #cromernet #cultofdionysusnet #newworldnet #wonderlandnet #ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x gn!reader #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung ateez #wooyoung ateez #jung wooyoung fluff #broatz #flower garden series #flower garden ateez #Spotify

[seungminxstay]

party girl / seungkwan x reader / 18+ mdni

when you need liquid courage to fuck your best friend

Seungkwan was just back from an okay date when he saw an unexpected caller ID pop up on his phone. Hoshi calling him past midnight on a weekend, when was that ever a good thing?

“What did you do?”

“No, not me,” Hoshi replied, sounding surprisingly sober. “Y/n.”

Seungkwan’s frown deepened. “She told me she was studying today.”

“Well, look who’s here and wasted as hell. Come before she pukes on my precious sofa.”

Hoshi hung up before Seungkwan could argue, but he was already reaching for his jacket and keys.

It’s been a while since Seungkwan had to pick you up. Every party you’ve ever been to, from birthday parties in kindergarten to your first actual party in college, Seungkwan was there besides you - like he was in every important and non important stages of your life.

He drove off campus to the house Hoshi shared with several others, having to park three blocks away because of how crowded the street was. As soon as he got out of the car, he could hear music blaring in the near distance.

Seungkwan invited himself in Hoshi’s house - he’s been here too many times to count. He squeezed through the buzzing crowd, exchanging hasty greetings with people he recognized, but his attention was solely on finding you as he looked around the room

You were sitting on the sofa; or to be exact, you were curled up on Lee Chan’s lap, your hands comfortably resting on his arm, whispering something in his ear. Chan looked helpless as he simply sat back, letting you continue whatever game you were playing.

Seungkwan’s stomach burned. His initial reaction was to steer back, but when Chan met his eyes and mouthed “HELP ME,” he had no choice but to go and confront you.

“Y/n.”

“Kwannie,” you slurred, not even bothering to turn your head. “Aren’t you busy screwing your girlfriend?”

Seungkwan felt a sharp jab in his chest. You never talk to him like this.

“It’s just a date and she’s not my girlfriend. You’re drunk. Let’s go home.”

“No, I’m staying with Channie today, right, Channie?”

“Um, I might actually go and... get something to drink? God, I'm thirsty. See you guys later!”

He fled, leaving Seungkwan with a very drunk and sour you. You still refused to look at him, taking a swig from the plastic cup in your hand.

Seungkwan grabbed your wrist. You let out a yelp as the drink spilled over you, but that was the least of his worries.

“You’ve had too much,” he grunted. You whined in protest, but you were too drunk to physically fight back as Seungkwan, quite literally, dragged you out of the party and to the car.

It was silent on the drive back. Seungkwan considered dumping you on the doorsteps of your dorm and leaving someone else to deal with the mess you were. Unfortunately, your roommate was out for the night, and he couldn’t leave you like this. When you might wander off and find another guy to get friendly with.

He carried you up the stairs and to your room. He had the keys; you've said it was only for emergencies, but Seungkwan's emergencies included using your bed for naps between classes or just simply coming to bug you.

Today, though, was a different story. You and Seungkwan have fought endlessly since kindergarten, from petty playground fights to times when you stopped talking to each other for days. But one of you eventually caved in and made up after every fight. This was one of these instances, right?

"If you expect me to come every time you go and throw yourself on some random guy..."

“I didn’t even ask you to. I was doing fine with Chan,” you mumbled, knowing what you say was going to get him agitated. Seungkwan clenched his jaw.

“Well, I’m sorry then, you could have just fucked Channie and I shouldn't have cared. Why should I care?"

His voice rose louder than he intended to, and he could see a flash of hurt in your eyes. You both didn’t know - no, pretended not to notice - why you were working each other up like this.

Then the next second, you were kissing him. He stumbled backwards onto your bed, the force knocking the wind out of him.

It wasn’t like what Seungkwan had imagined from time to time - in the quiet afternoon library, or cuddled beneath the blankets of his bed, or on the doorsteps of your dorm, after a sweet date. It was messy and angry. You reeked of alcohol and Chan’s perfume.

Your hands grabbed his face, and Seungkwan found it so easy to get lost in the heated kiss. He could feel hot tears streaming down your cheeks, and everything was so overwhelming, he didn't know what to think. It just felt good. It felt perfect.

He was brought back to his senses by your hands snaking under his shirt.

“You're drunk, I'm not doing anything if you're - ”

“Please please please Seungkwan. You know I’ve only wanted you, all this time.”

Did you really mean it? Seungkwan tried meeting your eyes, but you were busy trailing kisses down his jawline, his neck...

You sank down on your knees. Seungkwan's breath hitched as you lowered his pants and brought your mouth to his bulge, embarrassingly hard from just the kisses alone.

Heat rose to his cheeks as he contemplated whether to look away from such a sinful sight - you, his best friend, his first love, his crush since forever, giving him head like you needed it. He could cum from just seeing you in this angle, nestled between his thighs and looking cute as hell.

Seungkwan had such a pretty cock. You ran your tongue up his length, swirling at the tip and using your whole mouth to take him in. One hand you kept wrapped around the base, the other you used to get yourself off. Seungkwan watched your hand travel underneath your skirt, moaning sweetly on his cock as you pleasured yourself.

He so badly wanted to be the one touching you, fingers buried in your pussy, thumb rubbing your clit. Just his imagination made him lightheaded, and he couldn't stop the loud moans as he came, hot cum hitting the back of your throat.

You tried swallowing, but some of the white was smeared on your lips. Seungkwan impulsively leaned over and kissed you square on the mouth.

“Did you just taste yourself?”

“It was gross. Spit it out next time.”

A next time. You smiled to yourself as you softly pushed him on his back, straddling him. You took off your shirt and bra. He was mesmerized by the sight, staring at your body being unwrapped like a Christmas present, your gorgeous curves, until you guided his hands there. He squeezed them gently and ran his fingertips over your nipples, earning a soft sigh from you.

"You're such a good boy Kwannie... Now let me ride your pretty cock. Hard already for me, hmm?"

Seungkwan groaned as you lowered yourself on his length. You squirmed around, getting used to his girth, but quickly picked up your pace as you felt it grazing your sweet spot.

Seungkwan covered his face with his hands, unable to take in everything without his face burning.

"Look at me,” you said, lacing your fingers with his. Seungkwan was all red and fucked out as you bounced on his cock, and knowing that you had so much power over him, hearing him moan your name, made the heat pooling in your lower body swell. You stifled a cry as an intense orgasm washed over you, falling over on Seungkwan and desperately wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your sensitive nipples brushed against his smooth chest, making you shiver, but it was the warmth of Seungkwan filling you up that brought you past your limit.

You were suddenly tired. You felt Seungkwan’s ragged, uneven breaths, his length still burried in you, the hollow of his collarbone perfectly matching the curve of your cheek…

.

You jolted awake, surprised to see a sleeping Seungkwan right next to you, his body pressed against yours. Your bed was too small for two people to share. Sunlight filtered through the edges of the curtain, dappling his cheekbones, and as you brushed his hair out of his eyes, you remembered everything from last night - your words, his words, how the kisses tasted like.

You both had started seeing other people since high school, but it had hurt, every single time, when Seungkwan would get a glimpse of you laughing at a random guy's jokes, or when you would call Seungkwan at the most spontaneous of times, only to find out that he was on a date with some other girl.

It was just a childhood crush. You’d eventually grow out of it. You were best friends before anything.

That was what you kept telling yourself, but apparently, it wasn't the case when it was Boo Seungkwan.

#svt smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seungkwan #boo seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan smut #seungkwan imagines #svt #seventeen #svt fanfic

[grizzersmamma]

Coffee Cups | College AU | Nikto x F!Reader

Short snippet fic based on the college AU from @ghouljams. I needed to feed the brain worms something and I'm gonna make it everyone else's problem. Unedited at the moment because I'm writing and posting on the fly.

You spot Nikto on his way to his first class of the morning, hurrying along the walkway with little regard for those around him. He doesn’t notice you at first, not until you flag him down with a slightly harried flailing of one of your arms. He slows his stride enough for you to catch up but doesn’t come to a complete stop.  

“Morning, Nikto!” You chirp, arranging your bags in one hand while stabilizing the tray of drinks in your other, ensuring nothing spills.  

“Привет, Рыбка,” he greets, watching in concern as one of the hot drinks very nearly topples over. Before it can end up falling on you, he reaches out a hand to snatch up one of the cups. You’ve gotten into the habit of getting coffee for the both of you before class, and so he goes to take a sip of the drink he’s grabbed. He hesitates, however, when he sees the branding on the front of the cardboard cup.  

You see his nose flare slightly and his face screw up in disgust, “you would poison me with this?” he demands, quickly giving the drink back to you with a look of genuine horror. He’s a tad overdramatic but you’ve learnt how to tell when he’s being serious and when he’s just being a bit of a drama queen. Anyone else on campus would’ve been searching for the nearest exit if he’d said that to him, but you just roll your eyes.  

“That’s one’s for Love, I’ve got your coffee here,” you assure him, pulling out one of the other cups and handing it to him, “a long black with an extra shot of espresso from the coffee shop in town.” You practically have his normal order memorised at this point, knowing exactly how scalding hot he prefers it.  

He takes the offered drink and immediately takes a swig from it – you're not sure how he can handle a coffee near enough still boiling – and sighs in complete bliss, “Спасибо от всего сердца и души.” You have no idea what he’s saying, but it sounds somewhat like some form of thanks.  

“You’re welcome,” you hum back, rearranging the drinks in your hands so that they’re correctly balanced in the tray.  

He takes another sip before continuing, “how these Americans can call that, that... foul, excessively sweet, substance ‘coffee’, is an insult!”  

You’ve heard this particular rant many times previously and simply nod along while he hisses and spits about how inferior American coffee is compared to other parts of the world. You sip at your own coffee and offer the occasional agreeable hum when expected. “You have first years straight up this morning, yeah? How are they going?” you ask when Nikto pauses his tirade to breathe.  

He doesn’t even need to think about the question, offering you a confirming nod, “yes, they are...” he mulls over his response for a moment, “acceptable.”  

It’s practically high praise for Nikto to consider a fresh batch of students ‘okay’ or ‘acceptable’ so early in the year. You hope for their sakes they’re able to maintain it since your best friend isn’t exactly the most forgiving when it comes to falling below his high standards.  

You reach the door to your department far too soon for your liking, but with any luck you’ll be able to catch up again during the day if your lunch breaks line up. You wave him goodbye and wish him luck with his classes but miss how he hesitates to leave after you close the door behind you.  

Perhaps one day he’ll muster up the courage to take you to that coffee shop as more than just a good friend.  

- 

Translations 

“Привет, Рыбка,” - Hello, Rybka (little fish – an affectionate term for a woman) 

“Спасибо от всего сердца и души.” - Thank you from the bottom of my heart and soul (can be said formally or informally)

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #nikto call of duty #nikto x reader #female reader #college au #these idiots be pining at one another #Love is probably side eyeing them HARD

[v-era-18]

HoneyBee

Chapter Six: Thin Patience

‘You’re on thin ice with me. Thin. Fucking. Ice’- (Y/n) (L/n)

6

“Alright, here's the situation. You've all had direct contact with the NBEs,” Simmons started. They had been walking for a bit now, coming into contact with a few soldiers along the way. From what (Y/n) had gathered, they had a near death experience with the decepticons-they were lucky to even be alive. 

“NBEs?” the brown skinned soldier questioned.

“Non-Biological Extraterrestrials,” Simmons quipped, “Try and keep up with the acronyms.”

(Y/n) and Sam locked eyes, minds in sync as to what was going on. They had no clue about what they were dealing with all these years. From what the other man with Simmons had declared her deceased uncle had worked with them closely. Just how much did he keep secret about their true nature? 

“What you're about to see is totally classified.” 

They proceeded through the long dark tunnel, and to say they were all shocked was an understatement. The adults stared up at the large cybertronian in front of them, silver jagged plating was seen along with metal claws big enough to wrap around two statues on a college campus. The optics were black-unlit-but the girl couldn't look away from their faceplate. This was the monster she hid underneath her bed each night from; Megatronus-otherwise known as Megatron.  

“Dear God. What is this?” The general had spoken. 

Banachek looked over to (Y/n) the two making eye contact as he started to move forward, “We think when he made his approach over the north pole, our gravitational field screwed up his telemetry. He crashed in the ice-probably a few thousand years ago. We shipped him here to this facility in 1934.”

“We call him NBE One.” Simmons announced proudly. 

Sam looked at his dear friend, “Uh, (Y/n) I think it's time to correct them don't you think?”

The crowd looked towards the girl, she wasn't paying attention to them, simply staring at the war terrorist her grandfather warned her about. When's the last time she read about this monster? Was it three years? She was pretty sure it was longer. It was funny, every last detail in the book was true about his stature-his looks-his gaze-.

“Correct us?” Simmons questioned in disbelief. 

The girl scoffed, finally tuning in, “Yea, no offense. But I think my uncle let this limited information go far too long,” She looked over at Banachek, sympathy lacing her eyes,” You got everything wrong. He is not NBE One, he's Megatron. Cyberons most fiercest war terrorist and leader of the Decepticons; you see-it was him that led to the fall of their own planet. Killing millions of his own kind to achieve one thing,” 

She looked at them venom lacing her tone, “Power,”  

Simmons stepped towards her, the two having a non verbal conversation. The man's eyes scream one thing, ‘continue’.

 “ In fact he wasn't even the fist one here, there have been other ‘NBEs’ actually known as Cybertronians-” 

“(Y/n),” Sam whispered hastily, “Let's not give them a proper history lesson right now alright-!”

“No,” The general stepped forward. “Let the girl talk, she seems to know a lot more than we do.” 

(Y/n) turned to Banachek, “How long has he been like that?” 

“He’s been in cryostasis since 1935.” He turned to Sam, a proud resolve, “Your great-great-great grandfather and your (GG/n) made one of the greatest discoveries in the history of mankind.” 

“Second greatest,” (Y/n) corrected, “Of cybertronian knowledge perhaps. The first one you guys know of though. It's just not considered the first is it?” 

Simmons turned to her in shock, “How did you-” 

She simply pulled out the necklace, it had started to emit a glow of blue since she arrived, “I'm going to ask you this only once; Where is Estella? Aka NBE two.” The two men looked at each other in disbelief and concern, causing the girl to frown. “There's no need to hide it now I know you guys have her here.” 

“That's the thing,” Simmons responded, “Your uncle used to have the password to her area, now it's gone-along with his memory.” 

The necklace fell back on the girl's chest, her confidence crumbling, “ What? But my grandmother told me-,” 

“The information was confidential, no one knows about the slip up, hence why we can only deeply apologize that there will be no closer that you're looking for.” said Banachek. The two looked at each other for a long moment until when no one was looking the man sent a quick wink her way-giving her everything she already needed to know. Her uncle wasn’t foolish, he made sure at least two or three people had that password. 

“Fact is, you are looking at the source of modern age,” Simmons continued, “the microchip, lasers, spaceflight, cars, all reverse-engineered by studying him-NBE One. That's what we call it.” 

“Him,” (Y/n) corrected once again, the agent turned to her agitated. It was clear as day he was clearly jealous of her family and the secrets they held, but she wouldn't put it past them-judging from their dead set ‘facts’ they came up with she wouldn't want to share important information with them either. 

“And you didn't think the United States military might need to know that you're keeping a hostile alien robot frozen in the basement?” The general questioned.

“Until these events, we had no credible threat to national security.” 

“Well you got one now!” 

Lennox finally decided to speak, “So why earth?” 

“It's the allspark,” (Y/n) answered his question. 

“All spark? What is that?” 

The girl wanted to throw her family book at their head in response. At this point they were using her as a damn dictionary rather than a well informed individual. Everyone seemed useless in this situation rather than Sam and Mikaela. She turned to her best friend, waving a hand saying he had the floor. 

“Well, yeah, they came here looking for some sort of cube looking thing.” The teenage boy tried to explain. 

God dammit Sam!

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “How many times have I told you Sam, it's practically the most sacred thing on their planet and has the power to bring back life itself! Its the most important we get it before he does-” 

“Anyway,” Sam held up his hand in sass, “Mr. NBE One here, aka Meagtron-that's what they call him, whos pretty much the harbinger of death-just like (Y/n) told you-wants to use the cube to transform human technology to take over the universe,” They turned back to his friend a cocky look on his face, “That's their plan.”

The girl pursed her lips, “I don't know if I want to slap you because you cut me off or give you a high five because you actually remembered everything I told you.” 

Simmons paused for a moment, “And you two are sure about that?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Yep,” The two synced. 

(Y/n) smirked immediately knowing where this is going to go, “You guys know where it is, don't you?” 

Banacke looked between the two of them, “Follow me.” 

The two teens looked at each other before following suit along with the soldiers behind them. (Y/n) continued to survey her surroundings as she took in the atmosphere of the place as they walked through the narrow hallways, she couldn't believe her own uncle-the one she didn't know she had-walked through these halls numerous times and still kept secrets from the government about a cybertronians true nature. 

“You're about to see our crown jewel,” Simmons led them into a yellow bricked room with old pictures of seven men hung along the wall. She was surprised that her and Sam's grandfathers were not there. They did make history after all. 

(Y/n)’s mouth dropped at the sight before her, a geeky smile tracing her plump lips as she gazed through the window. It was beyond what she had imagined of the cube to look like, the spare object was as tall as the large cavern of the building, nearly taking up the whole space of the room itself. Down below she could see scientists working diligently as they examined it, she found it a bit cruel her family hid its fully functioning nature-it would've saved them years of research. 

Sam chuckled beside her, “Better than what you imagined?” 

“Yeah,” His friend uttered breathlessly, “It is.” 

The agent cut into their comfortable atmosphere, “Carbon dating puts the Cube here around ten thousand BC,” The man informed looking at (Y/n), “The first seven didn't find it until 1913.They knew it was alien because of the matching hieroglyphics on the Cube as well as NBE One. President Hoover had the dam built around it. Four football fields thick of concrete, a perfect way to hide its energy from being detected by anyone or alien species on the outside.” 

The girl froze for a moment before slowly turning to him, “Sir, with all do respect I don't think everything was thought through,” The Agents and Soldiers looked at her confused, “You said that this was the perfect way of hiding its energy from aliens on the outside correct?” 

“Yeah,” Simmons scoffed

She stepped up to him with her stance firm, “There's two whole aliens in this facility. And you didn't think that maybe one of them would wake up and take it away? Especially the bringer of death NBE One?”

This stunned the others in the room, Sam breathing faint “holy shit” as it dawned on him that they really messed up in regards to that calculation. 

But Banachek didn't waver, only nodding at her instead , “I understand that concern but NBE One has shown no activity ever since he was found by Witwicky.”   

(Y/n) only hummed but it didn't ease the pit rumbling at the bottom of her stomach. There were warning signs practically ringing in every direction for her in regards to this whole ordeal, with Megatron here and the Deceipticons looking for him it wasn't safe for the cube to be down here, nor was it safe for them to be down here when a potential bomb goes off. Did they honestly want her to believe that Megatron wasn't playing them all this time? Estel most definitely would have warned them if she hadn't been offlined, she loved the human race too much to do so-from what she gathered from her grandmother anyway.  

“Wait back up,” The lady cut in, “You said the dam hides the Cubes energy. What kind exactly?” The question seemed to be for her, but she ignored it and waited for the agents to answer instead. Her mouth was getting dry from answering too many questions. 

“Good question,” 

It wasn't long before they were taken to another enclosed room, what stood out the most was the big blue transparent box with men surrounding it. The wires and small room could only tell her one thing that this was a form of an experiment room of some kind. “Please step inside. They have to lock us in.” 

She stood beside Sam and Mikeala, the girl noticed their hands intertwined with one another's for a minute-just a glimpse-and decided to clasp her own hands together in reassurance. Although her mind did drift back to a certain soft big hand and sharp blue eyes-.

Fuck. Now wasn't the time for her mind to wander. 

“Oh wow,” Epps uttered, looking at the scratches along the wall. They didn't seem too big but they were long and sharp enough to penetrate through metal, “What's that? Freddy Krueger done been up in here or something?”   

“Oh, no, man,” The hacker argued, “Freddy Kruegar has four blades, man. That's only three. That's Wolverine!” The man laughed and (Y/n) did for a bit stopping when she saw Sam's done expression. 

“That's very funny,” Simmons said with a straight face. The laughter was gone when they noticed his serious tone. “Anybody have any mechanical devices? BlackBerry? Key alarm? Cell Phone?”

The man went through his pockets, “I got a phone,” He tossed to Simmons. 

They headed over to the blue box in the room each being handed a pair of goggles, (Y/n) stared anxiously as Simmons placed the phone inside the box shutting it tightly 

“Okay,” Simmons whispered, “Nokias are real nasty. You gotta respect the Japanese, they know the way of the samurai.” 

“Nokia is from Finland.” The woman might as well keep it to herself, there was no correcting the agent. 

The afro haired girl grimaced, her grandmother had a Nokia. 

“Were able to use the Cubes radiation and funnel it into that box,” Simmons started flipping the devices on to start up the machine 

They watched the gadget hover over the phone before a blue laser contracted into the metal device below. The girl got goosebumps as she heard the familiar sound before the phone transformed right before their eyes. She couldn't believe it, the cube could actually give life!

“Bro what the-” 

“Wow,” (Y/n) muttered in amazement. She leaned in closer to get a better look along with Micheala, the new cybertronian didn't like the attention and proceeded to ram itself in their direction. It was a good thing it only hit the glass, but the two girls did lean back when it proceeded to shoot at its barrier. 

“Mean little sucker, huh?” 

(Y/n) hummed, “Mean and confused.” 

“Man that thing is freaky!” 

It got worse from there, the bullets and shots were cracking the box. The little guys were close to its escape, Simmons wasn't going to allow it. The gasp the girl let out was involuntary as a large shock ran through the box killing the new life instantly. She immediately grabbed onto Sam, anxiety racking through her, as she thought about the black and yellow scout. 

“S-Sam,” the girl whispered, “Bumblebee.” 

As soon as the words left her lips the lights started to flicker overhead as well as an alarm sounding off. Her heart hammered in her chest, she knew that this would happen-that this facility wasn't the safest with  the war terrorists here along with the cube. It was practically a suicide wish. 

“They're here,” (Y/n) announced. 

The general nodded to her in agreement, “Gentlemen, they know the cube is here” 

“Along with their leader,” 

“Banachek, what's going on?!”

“The NBE One hanger has lost power-” 

“What?!” 

“The backup generator is just not gonna cut it!” 

“I told you so,” (Y/n) looked at Simmons, “Putting them both in the same place is a room for disaster-” 

Sam sighed, “(Y/n)! Really?” 

“I'm just making sure he knows their mistake!” Sure it wasn't the time to be petty, but she told them that it wasn't a good idea and they completely brushed her off. It felt good to show these smart asses she was right. 

Lenoxx made his way over quickly, “Do you have an arms room?” 

Oh. Guns against large robot aliens. How nice. 

They were all flushed out of the room in haste, Sam made sure to have a good grip on the two girls as they followed behind the soldiers closely. 

“Everyone into the NBE One Chamber now!” 

The area was a mess, she watched so many people running all over the place in adrenaline. Anticipation and fear clouding their eyes at the situation at hand, she could only imagine the amount of scientists who did not sign up for the fighting part on the field, only the endless studying that would be conducted over the course of their lifetime. 

That's why when they were running down the hall shye almost forgot the most important person she wanted to see, even though she tried to halt her movements Sam only strengthened his hold. The boy had his nerves on edge, making sure his best friend stayed by his side at all times; and she could understand that, it hasn't been the best twenty four hours. 

“They're popping our generators!”

This only made the girl try to turn in the other direction once more, “Sam! We have to get to Bumblebee-” 

“I know! Give me a second to get them to understand.” 

Sam didn't mean to snap at her, she knew he didn't. From the way his eyes were blown open, face drenched in sweat to the distressed crease of his brows. It was a good thing they eventually made it to the room, the teens watched as the soldiers and men started to arm themselves. Of course (Y/n) tried to grab for one only for Epps to quickly take it away. 

“Uh uh, until you're properly trained with this thing-you're not holding one,” 

The lights started to go off again causing the room to still for a moment, everyone's breaths heightened-eyes wide with fear. (Y/n) has had enough and stormed up to Simmons. 

“You gotta take us to see Bumblebee,” 

The agent looked at her baffled, “Who-?” 

“My car! She's talking about my car,” Sam butt in, “You have to take us to go see him. He knows exactly what to do with the cube!” 

Simmons shook his head, “The car? It's confiscated.” 

“Then un-confiscate it!”

“We don't know-” 

A gun was held to the side of the agent's head, the room went still, “Listen here asshole! I’m frankly sick and tired of running in circles with you fucking government heads thinking you know everything when you dont,” There was guns drawn, some men aiming at the afro haired girl while others where aimed at the sector seven men as shouts started to fill the room. But she ignored them, along with Sam's pleas to put it down.

“Now that I have all of your attention, let me explain this to you quickly since we don't have enough time. Right now you have two options,” The girl turned her head to the other men in the room to make sure they were listening, “One, we can continue to have an autobot scout-the one trying to save our planet-still confiscated by your men and have the decepticon leader-Megatron the war terrorist- leave with the cube and terrorform this planet. Or Number Two, you un-confiscate Bumblebee-Sam's car- give him the cube getting to the other autobots to save this planet.” 

The girl looked back at Simmons, cocking an eyebrow, “Which will it be?” The agent was taking too long to answer, so she added to her statement, “Or you can take too long to answer, and I take matters into my own hands and kill you and save the world myself.” 

Simmons laughed nervously, “With what army?” 

“The ones behind her,” Lennox chimed in, “I was going to take you down myself, but the little lady seems to have beat me to it.” 

“Drop your weapon, Baby girl,” Epps uttered softly, “We got this.” 

(Y/n) didn't listen, only staring at the man in front of her with anguish between her eyes. The gun felt foreign in her hand, it didn't feel like a toy; it was cold, heavy and deadly. Three things she used to be afraid of, the same thing she was so used to having pointed at her only for it to be placed in her hands. 

The agent recognized the look in her eyes and his frown deepened, “That look is so familiar, your uncle used to have it all the time within the first years on me being here,” The girl did not smile or waver, simply held the gun to his head, “ Your not gonna give me the option are ya?” 

“Listen to me closely,” The girl leaned in , her eyes slitted, “You're on thin ice with me. Thin. Fucking. Ice.” 

“Agent Simmons,” The general spoke up.

The agent's eyes stayed locked on the girl, “Yes sir?” 

“I'd do what she says,” He spoke clearly, “Losing isn't for any of these guys, and from what I've learned-neither is it for this girl.” 

A moment of silence. 

Simmons looked back and forth between (Y/n) and the general before nodding his head, silently agreeing, “Alright, alright, alright. You want to lay the fate of the world on these kids' camaro? That's cool.” 

The girl retracted the gun with a heavy breath released, she looked back at Epps and tried handing the gun back over. (Y/n) felt like a little kid going behind her parents back and getting another toy after the first one was taken away, it was what she just did. She grabbed another gun when the lights were flickering when the soldier was distracted. 

The soldier simply shook his head, “No you keep it. You're gonna need it later.” 

“I don't want it. It feels wrong to hold it.” She admitted softly. 

“Trust me,” Lennox placed a hand on her shoulder, “As a soldier who has fought as long as we have. Sometimes we don't like picking these things up, there's a huge responsibility behind it. And it's heavy. Trust me when I say this-that decision you just made was needed; and not everyone could have had the courage to do what you just did.” 

~ ✯ ~

It was haunting, (Y/n) doesn't think she could ever get it out of her mind. The pained whirrs she heard coming from the cybertronian was heard all the way down the hall, causing the girl to run faster than the rest of the men. Sam and Mikeala were right behind her, their pace catching up with each foot leading them to the double doors. 

The afro haired girl pushed through the doors screaming out for the scout, shoving past security, “Let him go! Bumblebee!” 

“Stop!” 

Sam grabbed a man stopping the icing process the best he could along with Mikeala doing the same on the other side. The three teens were quick with their pace, grabbing and disarming the men as Banachek and Simmons ordered everyone to stand down in the room. The pained whirrs slowly diminished but the girl could still hear the discomfort Bumblebee had, he was confused and upset. 

“Bee!” (Y/n) watched as the scout sat up at the shout of her voice, his optics immediately locking on hers, “Are you okay? Can you move? Are you okay-”

“They didn't hurt you right?” Sam cut in.

Bumblebee grew annoyed, frustration building as he activated his helmet, rolling over and aiming his cannon and the previous offenders that had him strapped down to the table. Sometimes it was so hard for the scout to love humankind, the list just got longer with the many things they have done to him on this planet. He waved it around for a moment making sure no one else was going to hurt him before freezing, noticing movement in the corner of his optics. 

(Y/n) had stepped forward, hands in the air with an anxious expression, “Easy, they won't hurt you anymore I promise. Not while I'm here.” The scout had frozen still looking at her before slowly lowering the cannon, then completely transforming it back into a servo once more. He pointed to her, catching her off guard-her expression was confused for a moment before a realization dawned on her. “M-me? Oh-oh I'm okay, see I'm in one piece.” 

Bumblebee wasn't convinced. This only made him more upset. 

“Listen the cube is here and the Decepticons are coming,” Sam cut to the chase. He noticed the bot's frustration with his friend's lie, and decided to move this along before something else would transpire. 

The scout rolled off the tabel-if they would even call it that-and still proceeded to have his helmet on his head using his servo to cover (Y/n) as she was the closest charge next to him. 

“D-don't worry about them, they wont do anything! Alright, they're not gonna hurt you” Sam turned back to the other men and crowd surrounding the frustrated Autobot in the room, “Just back up a little bit, he's friendly.” The boy turned to (Y/n) looking between her and the larger robot. She didn't get what he was trying to convey at first but quickly caught on. 

Sam wanted her to calm Bumblebee down. At first she was confused, although they were both his charges the scout hadn't calmed down in the slightest from her friend's reassurance. What would make her attempts any different? The girl thought back to the moment the two had in front of that door, the turning of the handle together before going inside. 

“Who said you have to do it alone?” 

“Hey! Hey, hey,” (Y/n) stepped in front of the scout waving her arms around catching his heated gaze. She understood his frustration and the fear of being hurt-ti be put back in the position he just got out of. He was willing to be taken by the willingly so they wouldnt hurt anyone, only to go through so much torture. “C-can you just-can you just focus on me for a second?” 

Bumblebee did, and to make sure she knew he was concentrating only on her he keeled to get closer to the female down below. Upon looking at her closely she had a bandage on her elbow along with a few bloody spots on her jeans and shirt. The cuts and spots were not big so he did not fret about it too much, but something moved within his spark from the girl who was looking up at him. Shere concern was laced across her features, eyebrows creased in nerves whereas her eyes scanned his face for emotions he was trained not to show. 

It was a reflex of war. Never show your enemies your emotions-they'll use it against you. No human was to be trusted in the room until further notice. 

“I know it must have hurt-what they did to you. But the actions of these people shouldn’t determine the fate of the rest of the human race,” (Y/n) spoke softly, “They hurt me, Sam, and Mikeala too-that's the thing about us humans we hurt each other and we make mistakes. And we need your help to fix a huge mistake.” 

The afro haired girl took a few cautious steps forward before placing a soft hand against one of the mech's digits, “Can you do that for me Honeybee?” 

Bumblebee stilled for a moment, his radio flaring to life as his whole form grew warm. The girl waited patiently, smiling softy up at him, understanding he was finding the words to say in this situation. However she hadn't expected that response.  

“Anything you desire sweetheart,”

#bumblebee x black reader #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee #transformers x reader #transfromers #transformers bayverse #sam witwicky #mikaela banes #Youtube

[fleckcmscott]

Silver Dollar

Summary: An outage in Gotham provides the perfect opportunity for a special night.

Words: 4,629

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This story was prompted by a request from @iartsometimes! 💜 It's probably a little tamer than intended. 🤭 Thank you for the request! Also, much appreciation to @sweet-nothings04 for low-lighting visibility tips. 😂 🌃

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The graffiti plastered bathroom plunged into darkness.

Arthur stiffened where he stood, blinked into the blackness. His vision did not become clearer. Grumbling, he tucked himself into his pants and stepped back from the urinal. The handle took two tugs to flush. He fumbled for the sink, gave his palms a rinse shorter than the Gotham Department of Health recommended. Paper pharmacy bag in hand, he opened the exit's steel door and headed northwest. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring, August sun.

Gotham had gone crazy in record time.

People spilled out of luncheonettes, crowds crammed shop doorways. Traffic lights refused to light and pedestrian signals refused to signal. Horns blared in the building pandemonium. A passenger yelled out of a taxicab and flipped the bird, while the driver pounded the steering wheel. Chaos repeated block after block. The Stutton Cowboy on the center billboard ("Price is good. Flavor is everything.") no longer waved. His cigarette hand hovered over his mouth in shock.

Arthur was prepared. Whether due to bad writing or an unpaid bill, he'd spent his share of evenings smoking in the dark. This was something he was good at, an event he could take the lead in.

Bumping a fleeing college kid who had a bottle of vodka hidden under his arm, Arthur shouldered his way into the nearest grocery. Squeezed by a couple of oh lords, maneuvered through murmurs and gripes, and ran through a mental inventory of the drawers in 4A. The day dimmed as he neared the rear aisles. When he arrived at the Home Needs section, he crouched between an abandoned cart and a baby stroller.

He squinted at the battery rack. AAs for the radio, Ds for the flashlight. Maybe some candles, just in case...

An ever-expanding line of shoppers accelerated the beads of sweat on the young cashier's forehead. Handwritten receipts and totals by calculator took twice as long. Arthur sidled to the next line, overseen by a matronly woman wearing a paisley wrap dress who did all the math in her head.

"I'm gonna need a drink after today," she said as he approached the counter.

It took a moment for him to realize she was looking for a kindred spirit. A rapid blink, a subtle nod. "Yeah. Me, too." He eyed a row of bottles on the shelf behind her. That'd make his reply believable.

She followed his stare, stretched to grab a green bottle with an art nouveau label, and put it on the counter.

Vermouth. He wasn't familiar with that word. It sounded exotic, like a fine imported thing. It was a screw top instead of a cork, which he tended to frown on. Uncorking a bottle together was romantic, whereas this was akin to opening a liter of seltzer. He was about to decline it when the price tag froze him. At $14.99, it was more expensive than any wine he'd ever had.

Maybe it really was a fine, imported thing.

"Is it good?" he asked. He picked it up, studied the back as if a connoisseur.

"One of our best sellers."

He gave the matron a one shoulder shrug, half-commitment about to go full. "I'll take it."

~~~~~

Y/N strode the hallowed halls of Gotham City District Court. On the corner of Badger Boulevard and Olsen, the granite behemoth belied the civil servants who were paid far too little to deal with far too much.

Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she ambled down the checkerboard floor towards the clerk's window. Rita, her favorite, was working today. Rita returned every call, always helped with a combination of sarcasm and cheer.

"And what did you bring me today? she asked when Y/N plopped her canvas bag on the counter. Rita stopped watering her shaggy spider plant and walked to the window.

"A motion to continue the Caruso case and a dozen new filings. You can send the invoice for the filing fees to my office." Y/N split the stack of folders into three slim piles and pushed them through the gap under the glass. "How did your bowling league do last night?"

"We're one game away from regionals! I'm trying to convince my husband to-"

A loud pop echoed down the corridor, bounced along the linoleum, ricocheted off horsehair plaster. The air conditioner's hum devolved to a grinding whir. Bright fluorescents gave way to dingey emergency beams, crisscrossing through dusty, recycled air.

Hand on hip, Y/N looked up. "Did you misplace the electric bill?"

"Great. Judge Harkness is in the middle of a jury trial on the fourth floor. He hates taking the stairs." The clerk covered her face, glanced at Y/N's folders through parted fingers. "I'm not sure when I'll get these processed."

"That's all right. I just wanted them off my desk. I haven't seen the surface in six months." She retrieved a business card from her purse, pushed it to join the files, a gesture repeated every visit to Rita, a reminder to reach out. "Don't forget to update me on your tournament. And don't let His Honor forget who actually runs this place."

When she arrived at Dube & Ellis after a fifty-two-minute walk - all subways stations were cordoned off - she was sweltering. Polyester didn't breathe and it comprised seventy-two percent of her wardrobe. That Terry had done exactly the wrong thing by drawing back the vertical blinds on each and every window was typical. "There's not enough light in here! The whole city's out!"

She unbuttoned her collar and dropped in her chair. Normally her Sanyo desk fan would rattle and grate. Now she'd give her whole paycheck for a hint of its cool breeze.

Power outages had been a feature of many seasons in Missouri. Tornado season and sticky season, window season and squirrel on the transformer season. One night a drunk driver had slammed his Studebaker into a utility pole three houses down. It'd crushed Mr. Walter's front porch and left the road without electricity for two days.

Her mother had instructed them not to open the refrigerator unless they knew what they wanted. Shut the doors to the hottest rooms and placed rolled towels at the bottom to keep air from seeping in. Though she'd loved how the sun filtered through her lace curtains, she'd kept the drapes shut. They'd lit candles at night. She'd done needlepoint in her favorite chair and watched her husband play cards with their daughters until bed. A real family affair.

Daubing beads from his brow with a handkerchief, Phil stood in the center of the room. His expression said keeping them there any longer would be an OSHA violation. He wasn't wrong. The office had become the least relaxing sauna on the east coast.

"You've all put in a lot of work today." He spoke in the voice of a grandfather and daubed again. "I know it wasn't easy. I guess there's no sense in us staying any longer. If the power's not back tomorrow-" A gulp here, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "Enjoy a long weekend. My wife'll be glad to have me home. I think."

Y/N stole a glance at her watch: 4:42 PM. A whole eighteen minutes early. Though it wasn't a lot, she got how hard it was for a workaholic like Phil to give them five. Offering a soft smile, she went to him and stuck out her hand. The corner of his mouth twisted wryly before he accepted.

She gave his arm a collegial pat. "We're as caught up as we can be, so feel free to stop sweating."

~~~~~

The next morning's breakfast: cornflakes and blueberries. Y/N gave the milk a good sniff before pouring. With the microwave, toaster, and stove out of commission, oatmeal, toast, and eggs were off the menu. (Not that Arthur complained about the latter.)

They'd discussed how to use what was left in the fridge and freezer before it all went bad, but salads wouldn't work for every meal, and they were only two people. The Caswells across the hall, the neighbors who'd gotten their mail while they were in Missouri, had a grill. Y/N gave them a package of ground beef and a bag of frozen vegetables.

Arthur let his spoon clatter in the kitchen sink and rinsed his bowl. (It was a good and joyful thing that the water - and therefore the toilet - still worked.) "You know, I should go the children's clinic."

"Do you have a gig?" She sipped her orange juice.

"No. But it's boring hanging around all day without the TV. They hire me a lot. I'll go for free."

She rose, rubbed the small of his back. "That's so sweet, Arthur. And very kind."

"You could come with me." He paused, pressed his lips together. She'd seen him on street corners but hadn't witnessed the entirety of his performance. Even with her unending support, he suspected an all-out clown show would be the one place she'd feel out of place. He dared a glance her way.

And found a wide-eyed expression of approval. She cupped his hips, planted a wet kiss to his cheek. "You couldn't keep me away."

In the cab downtown, excitement bloomed in him, unfurling in a great wave of nervous joy. Knuckles intertwined, he hugged the prop bag on his lap, thighs jiggling. "Do you think they'll mind me just showing up?"

"No." She shook her head, placed a soothing palm on his knee. "They'll be happy to get a break in the monotony. It's a medical facility, they'll have generators, but the staff are going home to no power. They could use a laugh. The kids definitely could, too."

The Philomena Children's Clinic was squat for Gotham. Five stories of alternating beige concrete and polycarbonate windows, shaped into a squared-off U. Moss hung from the side of the porte-cochere, green clumps littered the pavement. Cartoon animals played on the entrance doors, giraffes and bears in happy acrylics.

When he checked in unannounced, Gertel the receptionist had a snotty face, but he'd learned not to take it personally. She liked order, worked eight to eight, even on holidays, and her only hobbies were the anagram puzzles in the newspaper and Harlequin romances. She was a tough egg to crack. The most he'd gotten was a pinched smile, a thin line of conceit.

Once he'd procured visitor badges for Y/N and himself, he went to the staff room to change. White base, blue triangles at the eyes, exaggerated red grin, bald wig with green curls, patched brown pants. He'd skipped his checkered suit jacket for a white lab coat, a long ago find from the secondhand store.

Rather than congregating in the common area, the kids remained in their rooms. The change put a limitation on his usual song and dance. Without those trappings, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He hesitated in the doorway of 201, thumbed a flat balloon in his pocket. When the little girl watching Sesame Street gave a small wave, he wiggled the worry from his shoulders and stepped forward.

Stephanie showed him a picture she'd drawn, all crayon streaks and misshapen house. In turn he crafted a balloon hat, put it on her head and told her to get well soon. A youngster next door, no more than five, told Arthur all about Misty, his golden retriever, and how much he missed her.

When Kevin, swallowed by an oversized robe, IV drip drip dripping, started to cry, Arthur's chest hollowed out. The boy hadn't seen his mom in two days. Being alone in a hospital was hard, a fact Arthur had lived. He plucked a prop handkerchief from his breast pocket, pressed it into the boy's tiny hands, pushed the corner of his mouth up with his thumb. "You'll see her soon," he said, words carrying a conviction he hoped was right.

Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Y/N chatting with an RN at the nurse's station. He went into the corridor to eavesdrop, knelt beside a girl in a wheelchair smothered with pink and purple stickers, Heather plastered across the side panel.

"It was nice of him to come," Linda said. "A lot of their parents can't afford the cab fare to get out here, with the subway out and all. And if they're not working, they aren't getting paid. He's always excellent with the children - sometimes he's just like them. Do you have any at home?"

Heather leaned in, prodded his shoulder. "Who's that lady?" she asked, pointing at Y/N.

"That lady?" He grinned from ear to ear. "That's Mrs. Carnival."

The girl gaped in astonishment. "She's not a clown?"

~~~~~

Stolen sheets hung from the railing at both ends of the fire escape. A forest green acrylic blanket obscured the front. A floral comforter, retrieved on tiptoe from the bedroom closet, covered the wrought iron platform. Two wine glasses and vermouth stood on the steps. All that was left was to tune the radio to easy listening, which Arthur did, treading lightly to avoid a stubbed toe.

Nodding, he smiled at his handwork. Well, at the blurred shapes he could detect in the dimness. He looked skyward. With the sun below the horizon and the usual light pollution gone, the night was sparkling.

Candlestick in hand, he eased the bedroom door ajar and sidled through. Gold flickered through the dark, a softening glow. Y/N was an unmoving lump on the mattress. Leg dangling out from the sheet, her half-slip a line on her thigh. Though sleep now came easier, her ability to nap stoked an ember of envy. Midday snoozes happened only after a bit of afternoon delight. She'd tired early, around quarter past six. If he let her doze any longer, she'd be locked in a daze brewing coffee at 2:00 AM.

Hot wax stung the web between his thumb and forefinger. He hissed, shook his hand, shoved the candle on the nightstand. The edge of the mattress sunk under his weight. He grasped the cotton sheet. Dragged it from her shoulder. Revealed the lace trim of her ivory chemise. A brief mumble fell from her mouth, a wet sucking sound. Her fingers curled into the pillow. He pulled the sheet down further. It puddled to the floor.

Stretching one arm, she rolled back to wince at the candle, then at him. "What time is it?"

"Nine-thirty."

That jolted her awake. "I slept too long."

"Mabel called earlier."

"What did she want?"

"She said the blackouts were on the news. I let her know we're all right."

A tender caress to her calf, which felt like silk in his palm. Images of the romantic evening he was about to have with his wife played in his head, a loop that made his stomach all aflutter.

Y/N boosted herself on her elbows. "You have that look."

"What look?"

"The look that means you're up to something," she said, brow arched to her hairline.

Part chuckle, part scoff, he laughed. She read him too well. While it made surprises harder to hide, it pleased more than it annoyed. He stood, offered his hand. "Come here," he said. She accepted, pausing long enough to blow out the flame. He led her to the fire escape and sat on the comforter.

Halfway behind the glass door, she clutched her arms over her chest. "Arthur, I can't go out like this."

"No one'll see you." He gestured at the impromptu walls. Besides, he was six feet away and her form was barely more than a shadow. "And without all the lights, you might be able to see the stars. The way you did back home. Like you told me in the park."

A beam bloomed across her face, what he imagined might be a faint blush. Bent at the waist, she slipped into the half moon's light. One hand on the doorknob, a lifeline in case she reconsidered. Her fingertips relented one by one. First the pinky, last the middle. She settled to his left, knee pulled to her chest, the other leg folded under.

Arthur shuffled closer so they were hip to hip, reached behind her for the wine glasses and bottle with the art nouveau label.

Y/N snagged it from him, squinted at it. "Vermouth?" She held the bottle while he twisted the cap. "My mother used to drink this before bed in the summer. And she rubbed it on Mabel's gums when she was teething. Whiskey, too."

When he brought the goblet of garnet colored liquid to his lips, his nose wrinkled. The liquor smelled like an overgrown garden. He dared a small sip, anyway - and bitterness coated his tongue. He winced, sputtering. "This taste weird. This was supposed to be wine."

"It is, just a different type." She drank long and deep then drank again. "This one's not bad. Strong on the cloves but it'll get the job done."

A news bulletin interrupted the animated notes of Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass. "In what authorities are calling a historic event, Gotham's five boroughs remain dark tonight - including McKean Island. We're assured safety measures are in place and the maximum-security wing remains in lockdown. Though the extent of the damage is unknown, we're happy to report that crews from Pennsylvania and New York are on their way to our fair city to lend a hand. Police Chief Miles O'Hara and Mayor Thomas Wayne are urging calm and-"

"That's enough of that." Y/N flipped the off switch. "You know the best part of all this? Wayne Tower is just as dark as everywhere else."

Unable to stop a chuckle, Arthur shook his head. She wasn't one for holding grudges, but the ones she did carry lived in the lines of her palms, plain enough for any flimflam psychic to read.

But he didn't want her to talk about that, not now. And he knew of a guaranteed method to distract her, to bring her back to where he wanted. He refilled her drink and clinked their glasses.

Second helping swallowed, she inched her bottom forward to lay on her back, arm tucked beneath her head. "It was wonderful to see you work today. Thank you for inviting me. I'm sorry it took so long."

"Well, you come to my standup shows." Only a month ago, she'd recorded his performance and given him tips over Thai. He stretched out next to her, set his still full glass on the steps. "The girl in the wheelchair asked who you were. She was surprised Mrs. Carnival isn't a clown."

"As surprised as everybody was that I married one?"

A hitched laugh. He fiddled with his trousers' belt loops. "I guess."

"There's a magic wand." She pointed at the skies. "By the moon, to the right."

Arthur hummed a contented hum, let his eyelids flutter shut. The street was peaceful, as still as he'd ever heard it. With most shops and restaurants shut down, the list of leisure options fit on a postage stamp. It was a moment to capture, preserve, like swirls in a vase.

A breeze rustled the sheets, blew across them, carried Y/N's natural scent straight to his nostrils. Warm and spicy, like roasted vanilla edged with musk. He breathed deeply, needing to fill his lungs with her anew. Sighing happily, he turned to her.

Silver gleams turned her skin to gossamer, dusk smudged her features. Feathered brown locks merged with the vines on the bedspread's pattern. Her breast threatened to fall out of the armhole of her lingerie.

Christ. They were outside. He hadn't planned on getting aroused. But the longer he looked at her, the harder he got.

Y/N sipped, balanced her stemware on her sternum. "Thank you for tonight, too. You're always so thoughtful." A simple sentiment but exactly what he longed to hear. An affirmation, a pledge to love him further.

But before he could respond in kind, the glass between her breasts began to tip...

He caught it, a splash hitting his wrist, crimson droplets landing on her collarbone. He set it on the step, bent to seize her lips. An unpleasant earthiness covered them. He licked it away, coaxed back her sweetness.

Gigging, she broke away. "Was this your plan? To get me out here and ply me with drink?" The hand on his shoulder dragged to his cheek. The breathy voice she adopted shot straight down his spine. "To take advantage of me?"

It wasn't but he didn't have to tell her that. He nudged closer, his erection grazing her thigh. "Maybe."

A slow smile of pleasure. "I like that plan."

Her palms snuck under his t-shirt, forced it upwards as she explored his body. Nails swirled at his abdomen. It grew taut, stuttered at the sensations, her tickles and temptations. When she reached his pecs she gave a firm pinch. At his displeased grunt, a wicked laugh left her, bawdy and amorous. A clear sign of what they were up to.

His thumb followed her chemise's ribbon strap. His hand fell to her side, skimmed her rounded hip, the delectable curve of her leg. Her half-slip had a daring slit. He slid through, drew lazy circles on her inner thigh.

She shivered. "You're not making it easy to be quiet."

Fingertips traced her panties' elastic leg. Heat emanated from her core, luring him nearer and nearer. Her swallowed whimper rushed him there. Slick and wet, the nylon gusset clung to her vulva.

He'd grown deft at touching her, even in the dark. He trailed a careful stripe along her labia. Inner lips were a prominent line through the fabric, her clitoral hood a plump ridge. Light and rapid he flicked his nail across it. Her pelvis snapped up, held. Millimeter ruts chasing his scrapes, fingers digging his back.

A shudder racked him. His forehead pressed to hers. "If we had more room, I'd taste you." She pressed her lips together, a squeal trapped behind them.

The same breeze that'd carried her scent could very well carry her hungry little whines around the block. So he captured her mouth with his. It started off tender and shallow but was soon all encompassing. She raked through his hair, tugged and tugged again. His tongue sought hers, caressed, collided. Teeth bumped with a muted click.

Sharp gasps. Her neck, her breasts, her entire being arching into him. Desperate push-pulls. He pressed on, strokes licks of fire on her clit. Mewling built in the back of her throat. He heard it in her shallow pants, felt it in how she gripped his bicep. Her thighs trembled, vulva throbbing in his hand.

"Ah!" She squeaked, a strangled, undignified sound.

Snorting, he shoved her sweaty face into the crook of his neck, caught the cries she couldn't stop. (Long ago, she'd offered to visit his apartment on her lunch break - with the explicit promise she could be quiet. He hadn't taken her up on it. Phew!) Her grip on his shirt tightened. One leg went straight, the other knee brushed his cock. Stillness punctuated by tremors. He kissed her temple, slowed his caress to a languid pace.

Legs akimbo, she blinked at him. Signaled silence with a finger to her lips. She balanced on her knees, shed her panties, patted the spot where she'd lain. He scooted over immediately. When he tried to sit, she pushed him to lie on his back. Moving to straddle him, she unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. He made no move to stop her.

Y/N braced herself on his chest, reached between them to press him to her entrance. She began to ease herself onto him, ease him inside her. But he told her to stop.

A strap fell down her upper arm, loosened her camisole to accentuate her cleavage and reveal a breast. Her nipple poked out, its dusky brown a tantalizing contrast to her white skin. Moonlight sculpted the apple of her cheek in whirls of silver. The stars shone about her head, caught in her tresses like sequins on an evening gown.

A pleasant fuzziness swept through him. Nearly three years and he was still drawn to her like a magnet. He'd bet his life that'd be the same case in twenty.

She cocked her head. "What is it?"

He brushed her hair behind her shoulder. Lowered the other strap. "Perfect," he said, smiling as his heart swelled. "You look perfect."

Teeth pressed her lower lip in a shy smile. When she bent to kiss him, her nipples dragged up his chest, prickled his flesh. She shifted the angle of her pelvis forward, the angle that rubbed her clit on his public bone. The one that left his black curls a matted, wet mess.

A sensuous thrust, her hips rolled in a seductive circle. "I want you to come," she whispered, and licked his bottom lip.

One foot braced on the grate beneath him, which bit even through the comforter. He bucked into her, into that heady stretch of her slippery heat. As if testing their connection, she raised up until he nearly flopped out, until only the glans remained. Then her walls encompassed him once more. Clutching, grasping. A steady rhythm. Relentless motion that bewitched and bewildered.

He cleared his throat to keep from crying out, channeled the urge to groan into grabbing the baluster behind his head. Her pinky brushed the strong sinew of his neck, her tongue followed his collarbone. Tightness in his loins spread to his abdomen, crawled through his limbs.

A burst of light, white and pulsing, formed behind his eyelids. Fire rippled through his veins, a scarlet flush of satisfaction. He bit the inside of his cheek, permitted one weak whimper to escape. She held herself in place while he finished, in the way she knew he liked. Stroked the tension from his dimples until they melted into a smile.

Slack and sated, his arm dropped to the ground. He puffed out his chest and cheeks and huffed. On a swift peck, she began to push herself up.

Just then, the Caswells' glass door creaked. Sluggish steps, like a hiker stuck in the mud. Y/N ducked on top of Arthur, held her breath. A hurdy gurdy voice called from inside. "...should have added it to the list last week. Where are you going? Louie L'Amour's about to start on GPR!" The rattle of a far-off rotary phone. "Oh, I bet that's your mother. She's called every hour!"

"I never said you have to answer it!" A resigned sigh, the click of a lighter. Arthur could almost hear the man deflate.

"The heat must be getting to them," Y/N said. "I think he'll be out here awhile."

Arthur murmured into her hair. "If you weren't so sweet, we wouldn't be in this jam." A playful swat to her bottom.

Laughter tickled his neck. She lifted herself a couple inches, pulled up the straps of her camisole. Careful to remain discreet, she grabbed her panties, clambered off him, and duck walked towards the living room. One foot beyond the threshold and she scampered out of sight.

He zipped his trousers, straightened his shirt, stretched as he stood, stuck a hand in his pocket to appear nonchalant. He grabbed the radio and headed inside. The rest he'd retrieve ten minutes later, when the neighbor would be forced to answer to his mother.

As he entered, Y/N emerged from the bathroom. His feet stumbled to a stop, his brain blanked. She'd shed her clothing and now stood nude before him. His stomach again went all aflutter.

"Let's repeat all that as soon as we can.” She curled her fingers around his wrist, not giving him a moment to resist. “By candlelight. In our bed."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​​​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x female reader #watchwhathappens

[mxiaogod]

— 08. [A NÉVOA] ROSARIA X FEM! AFAB READER

Warnings : Bad habits (smoking, hot boxing), burning, car sex, implied strangers to fwb, NSFW (DNI IF YOU AREN'T 18+)

— You pumped your fist in the air as you did a silly celebratory dance for finishing college, finally realizing that it had been far too long doing papers and other requirements to simply get a job, you were exhausted, and the only thing keeping you going was the cooling patches stuck to your skin, calming the tense muscles as you exhaled a sigh of relief.

You had told your friends about it, and they all responded the same thing, "Why don't you try smoking weed?" or "I can hook you up with my plug if you like," the plug being the same maroon red haired lady with huge circles under her eyes. You turned down the offer a million times, promising yourself that you wouldn't do stupid shit you'd regret in college, but you're not in college anymore, so what's the worst that can happen?

You promptly texted your group chat, asking for their plug's number, and they all responded with the same number, dang she must be selling good shit. As you type the number and send a quick message, you shrug. You compose and delete the sentence many times, wondering how the heck you approach a woman selling weed.

You : Yo, can you hook me up? sent

You cringe as you sent the text, this was nothing like you, the feeling of guilt settled in your chest, a heavy feeling that you brushed away with, "It's okay, I deserve this.", you wait patiently, overthinking and biting your nails in the process, what if she thinks I'm some lanky bitch trying to be cool? you shake your head as you look at the screen, seeing she replied.

xxx-xxx-xxx : Aight, how much? where n' when do we meet? Sent

You : Behind the parking lot, local grocery store near "xxxxx", 10 pm. Seen

After you sent the text, she didn't respond, which you felt was a good thing because it meant less embarrassment. You consider what to dress, do you have to wear all black? or what? Is this even permissible? Oh no, you didn't check, you're so screwed, so you watch movies on your laptop to ease your nerve as you wait for the 4 hours to pass.

You go along the dark road, pepper spray and keys in hand, towards the small store not far from your dorm; you make sure you're in a discreet area, after all, you're the ideal student.

As you walk through the parking lot, you notice a matte black car, she's loaded for a plug you thought, and as you get closer, you notice a pale hand, nails painted black, and a joint placed between their pointer and middle finger, smoke emitting from it, and you pause, thinking that's so badass as the hand retracts, most likely to take another hit. You keep walking towards the car, oblivious to the piercing blank pupils peering at you from the side mirror, a smirk painted on Rosaria's dark painted lips.

You knock on the door to the shotgun seat, folding your arms to your chest and kissing your teeth as you wait for her to unlock the door; this is so humiliating you think, you don't even know how to smoke, this is the consequences of your own actions.

As soon as you hear the click, you rush into the car, sitting comfortably as you welcomed her, "hey, great to meet you." She gave you a low hum in response and handed her cash in exchange for a pair of joint wrapped in plastic, which you pull out and ask for a lighter, she willingly handed it to you.

You insert the joint between your plump lips, the dryness of your mouth causing the rolling paper to adhere to it. You wipe your sweaty palms over the surface of your sweatpants, holding a hand on the side of the joint to prevent air from entering and igniting it., "It's backwards, doll face." You hear a sudden voice, Rosaria's body was turned to you, one arm out the window as the other rested on the back of you headrest, her attention solely focused on you.

"Oh, sorry," you chuckled, feeling cold perspiration stream down your sideburns, your eyes widening as Rosaria snatched the lighter from your hands and tilted your chin to face her, placing her palm over yours, blocking the air as she lit your joint. Your first inhalation was completely humiliating, you choked and coughed while fisting your chest, that wasn't so good.

"To be honest, I- I really don't know how to smoke-", "I know." Rosaria responded immediately, you feel your cheeks heat up from the embarrassment, fuck it you thought, "Can you teach me then?" you ask her, a subtle shock painted her face as she took a hit, facing your direction, she's so beautiful through the smoke clouding the car,

"Sure, just softly inhale so you don't choke, close your throat for a few seconds when you take a hit, then let the smoke run down your throat," she rasped, this was the longest she had talked since you came. You performed what she thought you, Immediately getting a head rush. You collapse on your seat, facing the ceiling while you rub your temples.

"You okay?" She asks, she didn't want anyone passing out on her, you give her a slight nod as your bottom lip quivered, you weren't feeling this, you started regretting it but you suddenly felt a pack of mango juice being handed to you, "Thank you, does this help?" You ask, "It does for me." She replied, you poke the straw through the hole and gulped it. Your mouth felt less dry and you were ready to try again.

You look at her, inhaling and expelling the last of her joint, mesmerized by the image, which was so appealing? The song on her speakers turned you on even more, you felt a sudden high in your mind, your thinking clouded with lust, you rubbed your eyes, the car feeling too tight, too hot.

You started massaging your neck, down to your shoulders, feeling your skin heat up, you squeeze your thighs together, feeling your damp underwear, you blushed even more, this was just plain humiliating, and you just wanted to get out of this car and go back home.

You continue rubbing subtly your thighs together, taking a hit of your joint, you're slightly getting better and better at this, Rosaria finished hers, looking to you with tearful doe eyes and legs clamped together, she smirked, so you were one of those? She rarely ever get horny after smoking, most likely because she is used to it, but what about you? You didn't even try to disguise it, and even if you tried, you couldn't.

She grasped your thighs to keep them from grinding together, and you threw your head back, a tiny whine from your lips, at the sudden absence of sensation. Rosaria's nails dug into your thighs as she inhales the remainder of her joint, grabbing your chin and shot gunning the smoke through your mouth, you inhale, staring at your eyes for a silent permission, Both of your lips connected, gnashing hungrily as if they had been apart for a hundred years. You let out a moan when you felt her tongue slip into your mouth, exploring it like a starved woman.

"Get in the back seat," Rosaria commands, and you clumsily get in, dragging your sweats down your legs as Rosaria gets out of the car, opening the door to the back seat, suddenly pinning you down, "Stay like that." She grabs another joint, lighting it as, inhaling a large amount and hot boxing the car, the smoke engulfing the both of you, you lay in the back of her car, legs parted open, For a fleeting moment, you watched Rosaria's expression. There was a voracious look on her face, a dark lust swirling in her eyes that infected you. She runs her thumb down the outline of your sopping cunt on your cotton underwear, Rosaria's hands roamed your body, from your shoulder blades to your back and around to your waist. She wanted to touch every part of you. She wanted to taste every inch of you there was to taste. She wanted to feel you through and through, inside and out. This hunger erupted inside Rosaria as her hands grabbed hold of the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head.

you try to breath but smoke enters your lungs as you choke, Rosaria quickly pressed her hand on your chest, "Shh, it's okay, inhale, exhale." You did what she told you, eventually calming down as you grind your hips in the air.

She chuckled at your desperation, dragging your panties down to your legs, she leaned down, licking a stripe to your cunt, you moan loudly, the high, the pleasure overwhelming you. She continues to eat you out, sucking on your swollen clit as you grind on her face, looking up at you, she enters you with one finger, lifting her head up as she she stares at you, grabbing her joint from the ashtray and inhaling, filling the car with more smoke, she gradually added another finger, scissoring you open, you hadn't had an orgasm ever since you started college.

"That feel good? grinding your legs together on my passenger seat like a bitch in heat, what a naughty girl you are." She coos as she painted your neck with love bites, biting down with force and flattening her tongue to sooth them, you clench on her fingers too hard, her fingers slipping out of you. "Such a tight pussy you have, I should tear you open hmm?" she teases, you nod eagerly, too high to even utter a word out. You open your eyes, looking up at her fucking you through the haze, a névoa.

She sets an even and fast pace, making you close your legs from too much pleasure, she grabs her joint, pressing it to your thighs, you feel your skin burn "It's hurts- hurts! hmm!", "I told you to keep them open didn't I?" you nodded, babbling like a stupid fucked out baby as she curls her fingers, abusing your g spot repeatedly, at this point, you didn't care, you scream and moan, "Agh! feels s' good!", she just laughs at you and your fucked out expression, you came with a loud whine, thighs shaking, bodies wet in perspiration, Rosaria goes back out, opening her windows as she goes and tend to you, helping you back in your sweats, placing a band aid to your burn and giving you bottled water, "Did I go too hard?" She asks, eyebrows knitting in worry, "Don' worry" You smile, a fucked out, high in the sky, faded smile.

"I'm taking you home, I doubt you can walk, that okay to you princess?"

"Hmh" You nod, quickly telling her your address before closing your eyes and drifting to sleep.

You wake up in your bed, dressed in your pajamas, checking your phone if you got any texts from her.

Wanna go again? Sent 3:04 am

You trash around your bed like a school girl, squealing and kicking your feet in the air.

Turns out, it wasn't something to regret after all.

#rosaria smut #rosaria x fem reader #rosaria x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #sapphic

[ontherockswithsalt]

Gday! Hope life's going well for you! I'm wondering if Noble would have any strong opinions on Jamie's current undercover look in BB season 14.

Yessss!!! Thank you so much for messaging me. I was thinking something like this (and it's in Noble's POV!):

It’s nearly three a.m. when I key into the apartment I share with Jamie. After working a closing shift at the bar, this is about my usual hour to arrive home. I’ve gotten used to it. Any job in hospitality will screw with your sleep schedule, but I’ve always been a night owl anyway. Thankfully my boyfriend’s job has that in common with mine and together, neither one of us has a healthy relationship with circadian rhythms. 

One warm lamp shines from back in our bedroom, but otherwise the living room, kitchen, and entry are all dark. After getting rid of my keys, my jacket and shoes just inside the door, I head toward the lamp in the living room but stop short when I hear rustling and movement down the hall.

“Jay?” I call out through the quiet, but all that answers is a click that, if I'm not mistaken, sounds like a magazine being snapped into a pistol. More soft rustling. A zipper being pulled.

My pulse flares hot against my will and I forego the living room light to peer into the open bedroom. 

Jamie stands facing the bed with his back turned to me and my chest deflates a little in relief. I mean, I think it’s him. I recognize his silhouette from behind easily, but the outline of the baseball hat he wears I’ve never seen before, and when he doesn’t answer my Hey from the doorway, I have to squint in confusion. When I see from behind that he is indeed chambering a bullet in his nine millimeter, I can’t help but angle a step back. 

He holsters the weapon at his waist, then reaches for a phone that I don’t recognize and when he does, I notice the black ink tattooed on his hands. The hell? 

But that is his ass in those jeans, I have no doubt, so I don’t know what to think.

I move into the room a few steps closer. “Yo–”

Finally, he turns, the AirPod in his ear proving he didn’t hear me the first time. Oh shit– I damn near attempt to tackle the dude looking back at me before I realize it’s Jamie with an actual beard that changes the look of his whole face.

But then that damn smirk surfaces along the dark fuzzy plane of his jaw and there’s no mistaking him. “Hey baby,” he casually greets me, as if he doesn’t look like a borderline psychopath.

“What the fuck?” I exhale and grab the open edge of his jacket to pull him closer to me. “I was about to knock you out thinking someone had broken in.”

Jamie pulls the earbud out and leaves it on the bed. “Sorry. I was listening to some notes on my case. They wanna pull me in tonight,” he tells me. “Knock me out, huh?” he chuckles, reaching up to take off his hat before he tosses it with the rest of his stuff. “Let’s see it.” Then with fists at the ready just below his clear green gaze, he weaves a little in front of me.

I fake a jab up high before I get one in lower, right at his hip, then grab him at his ribcage to haul him into me. “So this is the final product, huh?”

With the arch of an eyebrow, Jamie attempts to glance up at himself. His typically short, neat hair has enough length now to be combed back and styled and it’s honestly… strange how different it makes him look. He’d been preparing for this assignment for a while and the inbetween stage of growing his facial hair had been very amusing to me. For the last several weeks, he had still looked like himself, but more like he pulled an all-nighter in college writing a paper, not this hardass slimeball he’s morphed into once the full look was put together.

“I told you I could grow a real beard,” he boasts, a serious line pinching between his brows before he offers me a smug little smile.

“See?” I scratch my fingers there along his face. “You can accomplish a lot in three months–”

“One month,” he insists. “It took four weeks. And I even had to trim some here–” he gestures to his chin. “To even it out.”

“Mm,” I hum, narrowing my gaze to humor him. “You sure did–” My teasing is cut off by my own scoff when my eyes fall and I tug away the hood at his neck. “What is this tattoo?”

“There’s another.” Jamie turns his head to look the other way offering me a view of each side of his neck decorated with a slithering black ink trail of a hissing snake.

“Sick,” I breathe out a stunned laugh as my gaze follows the detail. “I definitely hate it.”

He chuckles. “You’re supposed to hate it, Noble. I’d be concerned if you were really into it.”

“Well hang on a sec.” I urge him closer to me and drag my thumb at the edge of his shirt collar, peeling it down enough in search of more. There at his collarbone is the tattooed hilt of a sword, pointed down as if the blade pierces into his skin. “How carried away did they get with you?” I wonder.

Jamie looks down between us and pushes the hem of his shirt up his chest enough to show another – this one a knotted, Celtic looking brand right on his smooth pec.

“Oh-ho ho,” I utter a low, dark laugh and can’t help but touch it. “You’re a bad boy.”

“You like it a little,” he whispers. “Just say it.” His lips twitch playfully just before they capture mine. 

He lets go of his shirt to steady my head, but my hand’s still on him and I squeeze the firm muscle of his chest. The soft bristle of his hair tickles my lip. I swallow the slight moan of his, kissing him harder with an urgency I didn't realize I was harboring.

I knew any day now he'd be going deep undercover on an assignment he's been prepping for. Deep and risky to the point where I'd probably go days, maybe weeks, at a time without seeing him. 

We've been trying to find extra time together leading up to the case. Recently, we took off on a long weekend getaway to Miami where I knew Jamie could let himself fully relax. Miami has always managed to bring out a side of Jamie that's uninhibited and sexy as hell and we spent the weekend in a gorgeous hotel room near the beach, all over each other and only managing to put clothes on when public decency was necessary.

A needy groan rattles in my throat as my kiss starts to slip away. I hold him to me, keeping my eyes closed as my touch traces his heart.

“You leave tonight?” I check.

Jamie nods against my temple, his scruff prickling my skin. “I have a briefing with my Lieutenant and then my unit’ll have me moving into location after that.”

I drag in a deep inhale through my nose and ease back to look at him. I can't help but exhale a soft laugh through my nose at his drastic appearance. But of course it's still him when his gaze softens on me and he takes a moment to trail fingertips across my hair.

I swallow, sliding my hand down his side beneath his shirt. “Well I know how you get when you're undercover, so be careful alright?”

A gradual smile pulls at Jamie's cheek. “Yeah? How do I get?”

With an innocent glance aside, I clear my throat. “I mean, last time you had one simple assignment–”

“Uh-huh…”

“And you wound up falling in love with me, and saving my life and all this kinda shit when I was just innocently minding my business.”

“Damn,” Jamie whispers. “Rookie mistake, I guess.”

I shrug. “Well I was very distracting. Who could blame you?”

“You were very persistent.”

My eyebrows jump and with my free hand, I reach up and scratch his jawline once more. “For you? Yes I was, and always will be.”

#joble fanfiction #joble drabble #idiots for life #I would like to know more about this miami getaway

[finniestoncrane]

I'm here for a blind date I'm genderfluid (afab if you're wondering. I apparently give off Boy Vibes™)

I love dinosaurs (some of my favorites include Archaeopteryx, Australovenator, and Baryonyx, Minmi, Oviraptor, and Yi qi) comic books (mostly Suicide Squad but you already know that by now), and I'm trying to get into cars because I want to be an automechanic, since my grades weren't good enough for paleontology and I suck at art. College wasn't right for me and being an automechanic is probably like... A trade school thing, right? I also like Transformers. I got a mullet at one point, but it grew out a bit lol. I'm kinda clumsy, which is pretty evident since my glasses keep breaking lol. Not like I can afford new ones so I guess I'm using duck tape and super glue to keep the frames in... 2 pieces I guess. I guess it's just duck tape keeping the ear things on. I really got into old monster movies in Middle School because of a book called the encyclopedia of monsters. From like... The really old ones like The Blob That Ate Everything to the ones from to the slightly more recent ones but they're still decades old, like the Alien Franchise. Not too big of a fan of regular (?) horror movies. Technically I haven't seen most of the alien movies, but I really liked Alien VS Predator so I think that counts enough. I know I've already told you this but I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole of wilderness survival and eventually wound up finding a channel about boomerangs and the occasional Australian wildlife video (there's one titled Kangaroo Maggots. He finds a kangaroo corpse at the side of the road and maggots are inside of it. Really fucking gross. 0/10. Do not recommend if you hate maggots. Don't know why I watched that specific video honestly, but all the rest are good). Which lead me to another channel about Australian animals. I'm American and idk how tf I got from how to cook a cactus to watching a video on dingoes. I play a lot of simulator games. Like... If you look at my steam library it's like... 99% simulator games, the Batman: Arkham Series, and then a hunting game for some reason. And even then I think that's a hunting simulator come to think about it. Don't know why I like Simulator Games, I just do. Wait... Does the Arkham series count as simulator games? Like... Are they technically Batman simulators. I love reptiles and rats, but I fucking hate spiders. Need an Australian Man™ to help me if a spider is near lol. You know wow I'm talking about here I tend to get overexcited when myself or others are talking about stuff I'm interested in. I go on long tangents about stuff I like. I'm kind of a nerd when it comes to my semi-niche interests. I do enjoy listening to people go on their own tangents about things they like too though.

It's also quite apparent I have a thing for weird and/or disgusting fictional men ( my taste in women is better I swear. (Will fall for any tall woman who even looks in my direction. Which isn't saying much cuz I'm 4'10¾") )

💜 blind date 💜 the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: hi please come in and distract this idiot, quickly, quicker, HURRY 💚

"Hi, uh-huh, welcome to the Vill-Inn. Can I just... sit you down as quickly as possible? If your date asks any of us if we want to see his big, curvy weapon one more time, we are going to escort him from the premises. Good luck!"

The moment you sit down at your table, after being rushed over by the waitstaff, you're met with a wide and mischievous grin, a signature smile from a man you recognise.

"I go by many names. Captain Boomerang, George, Digger. But you can call me daddy, if you like."

You screw your face up a bit, trying to pretend like that line didn't get you, and he's quick to try and win you over.

"I'm joking, love! Lighten up, it's a blind date, it's supposed to be fun!"

At least he's quick to... not apologise for his jokes, but to try and recover from them. And he's also surprisingly interested in you, and in getting to know you. Although, you fear it's just so he can make more risque jokes.

"Ah, mechanics. So... you're good with your hands then? You wear one of them little overall things? With anything underneath?"

The loud laugh he lets out at the end of his remarks are so endearing though, they make his lewd comments almost charming. Which you're unsurprised by, given your specific taste in men. He's perfectly strange and definitely a little bit gross, just how you like them.

He comments on your glasses, mentioning that you seem like someone who is a creative problem solver. A comment that feels like a proper compliment, not just a segue into another flirtatious remark. And it feels like he's dialing down on that the more he gets to know you. he talks to you about horror films for twenty minutes without saying anything lewd or crude. It's almost like it's a defense mechanism he uses to keep a distance, to maintain his facade.

In fact, he barely says anything at all when you're telling him about your preference for classic horror, and what video games you're interested in. Almost like he's enjoying learning about you. Almost like he can forego his usual ridiculously brazen behaviour around you. And you're more than happy to return the favour when he gets excited about boomerangs. Your fault for mentioning them.

"Yeah, you can learn a lot from a video online about surviving in the outback, but if you're ever looking for private tutoring, I'm your man."

He winks with this statement, but you can tell there's sincerity behind the offer. The fact that you're willing to listen politely, and that you seem interested in him when he's talking about subjects that are so personal to him, makes him feel very at home around you. And you're warming up to him, to the point where you can make some jokes too. I mean, no harm in joking about inviting him round to your place to get rid of some scary spiders, since he's Australian Outback Extroardinaire.

"Listen, for you, I can let myself be more of a hero than anti-hero for a change. Show me the little buggers and I'll have your house spider free in no time."

He winks again, and you're so fond of it that you can't help but imagine a life of being winked at across tables. A strange, happily ever after.

#finnie writes #finnie1500 #long post

[floof-writes]

i love when tragedies are like “the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there”

-Starpeace, tumblr

This isn't my normal type of post, but I just closed my high school's production of 'Puffs, Or: Seven Increasingly Eventful Years at a Certain School of Magic and Magic', and I can't stop thinking about it. This show broke me and put me back together and I don't know what to fucking do about it.

I played the role of Megan Jones, and she taught me how to be a person again. Skip straight to the next heading if you just want to know what the hell I'm talking about, otherwise, here's my Love Letter to Puffs: you deserve the world and the world doesn't deserve you, but every person reading this deserves to see this show at least once in their life.

First of all, this show is hilarious. Like, 'laugh until your stomach hurts and you can't breath and you start coughing up your sanity' hilarious. Your abs will hurt after seeing this show and your tear ducts will struggle to keep up with demand. But, despite that, or maybe because of that, it is also heartbreaking. Maybe the best kind, I think. The kind that rips your heart into pieces but then sews it back together, tells you that you have to carry on, but somehow that's worse, because hope hurts more than anything else.

And to see Puffs is one thing, but to be in it?

I don't know what to do or how to feel. For the rest of my life I will have carry this grief nestled next to my soul. The characters have the faces of people I know, and goddamn that makes it so hard to think about but just as hard not to.

I am changed, for this show. I am a different person at the other end of this nine week love-stained, obsessive hell. It found me when I was in a very vulnerable place, only halfway to healing, and picked me up and straight up told me to my Megan's face that I "shouldn't have to be alone"! Told me safety is love and loneliness is a lie we tell ourselves when we hate ourselves too much to see reason. That justice is the only pursuit that brings both self-love and heartache.

Live theatre is a powerful, powerful thing and yes, a professional recording of Puffs is available on Amazon Video and some pretty good bootlegs are up on YouTube, but if this show is open anywhere near you at a local high school, college, or community theatre, then I'm begging you to go see it in person. High school-age actors are uniquely suited to this show so don't let that make you wary!

If anyone, ever, wants to talk about Puffs, I'm more than available. PM me, ask me, tag me in your post. I don't care if you're seeing this post 2 months or 2 years or 10 years from now, if I am still on this hellsite, I will respond.

Go see Puffs. If everyone on this planet did, I think the world would be just a slightly better place.

Okay, hold on, what's Puffs?

Puffs tells us the story of a certain badger-aligned house during the seven years a certain orphan boy wizard attends a certain school of magic, plus ✨it was the 90's✨. If you can't tell, Puffs is technically a Harry Potter parody, and it very intentionally gives JKR no money and is not licensed with Warner Bros. Maybe that's a small part of why it spoke to me so much, because in the simplest terms: Puffs won custody of me in the great JKR/Fandom divorce. I really felt betrayed by JKR's transphobia and treatment of representation issues and this show was a bandaid and a kiss better for my aching, eleven year-old heart.

The story follows the Puff Wayne Hopkins, a young British orphan who was raised by his uncle in New Mexico. Wayne is the nerdiest, 90's-est kid you've ever met and well, as a fan of Star Wars and Dungeons & Dragons and Lord of the Rings, when he gets his school letter he gets this idea in his head that his life is about to become as awesome as that of the average fantasy protagonist. That he's gonna be a hero! Of course, he isn't. That's Harry. It's Harry at every single turn and Wayne and his friends are constantly being screwed over as unmentioned side characters in Harry's world-shattering and school-wrecking life, not to mention that the Puffs are the laughingstock of the school anyway, constantly failing classes and being bullied by the Snakes.

The Puffs work hard to become better but it rarely turns out. I mean, just look at Cedric, who plays a huge role in mentoring Wayne and his classmates the first act. Yikes. As the Puffs grow into their teen-hood it even gets a little spicy (in the hilariously awkward, teenage way), and eventually, they each come to understand that Puffs matter, Puffs are the best, in fact, Puffs are the "Mighty Ducks of wizards. No. The Mighty Ducks 2 of Wizards!"

#I attempted the ADHD easy reading formatting btw #that's why the colors and italics are so overboard #puffs or: seven increasingly eventful years at a certain school of magic and magic #live theatre #theatre #acting #high school theatre #character work #puffs the play #puffs #megan jones #wayne hopkins #cedric diggory #harry potter

[godfrey-the-chaos-duck]

A question of choices, of past, present, and future for fanfic bingo?

So this was actually one of the first fanfics I ever wrote, in, like, 2021. I wrote it near the start of the long, winding road of questioning my sexuality (the gender thing still hadn't happened and by god it hit me like a fucking train when it did)

And I'd seen some headcanons that Scrooge is bi (I stand by them entirely despite not being bi myself) and I thought, who better to project my queer confusion onto than him? So I did.

Even the thing about him suddenly seeing Von Drake in a new light was because I thought I was falling in love with one of my friends (I was not, I just got really sad when she left my school and went to college, but I am definitely a lesbian) so... Yeah that was fun for me.

But yeah I loved writing it and I KNOW that according to Duck Comic Lore Matilda actually married Von Drake but I don't think there was any indication that that happened in the 2017 canon so I just said "screw it I'm writing this because I love these old dorks"

The Christmas Eve 1987 flashback (with just a hint of McDuckworth shipping cause I am silly) was my favourite bit!

#the chaos duck has spoken #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #fanfic ask game #chaos duck writes #chaos duck answers

[calcifersfireplaceonao3]

Second Chances WIP

This is a bit of the new long-fic I'm working on for Cleon. Meet-cute fluff before shit gets weird and angsty. An AU without zombies, nothing goes wrong that night they both first go to Raccoon City, they meet and fall in love like regular people.

Rating/tags: General, fluff, first kiss

-

“Why didn’t you bring your bike?” He asks, with clear disapproval on the word bike.

“It’s healthy to walk,” she laughs, “besides, gas is going up and I am just a college student. Sometimes I wait tables with my roommate at her job when they’re busy but it doesn’t pay all that great.” 

“In that case,” he hesitates, “Can I walk you home?”

“Sure, it’s the opposite way from your place though.”

“I don’t mind. It’s healthy to walk.” He shares her smile and it looks good on him.

With a speed that only southern summer rain can, the clouds gather and they have to accept that they’re about to get soaked. Debating on making a run for it, Claire laughs, opening up her arms, “well, regretting your offer now?”

Leon’s expression seems for all the world like a plane could drop down to the ground next to him and he wouldn’t notice, the way he’s looking at her, she could be the only person on the planet and it makes her breath catch in her chest. Then the first droplets of rain hit him and he blinks, shaking his head with a grin and Claire gleefully notes how red his face gets as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“No, I don’t mind a little rain.” 

A little turns into quite a lot actually and they’re both near soaked by the time Chris’ house is in sight. “Oh, Chris is home.” Claire notes curiously, “the search and rescue must have gone well.”

Leon walks her up the steps, making sure she gets in alright and he’s got such good manners it makes her smile, if her mom could have met him, yeesh- she’d be planning their wedding already. 

“How… how do you seem so familiar?” Leon asks suddenly, an easy smile giving way to something more intense, shaking his head. “It’s like every time I see you I feel like I’m remembering you more and more.”

Claire feels it too, like she’s been looking to get him to laugh a particular way, predicting his expressions seconds before they cross his face. 

He looks uncomfortable, “Sorry, that was such a corny thing to say.”

“No, me too.” She reassures, “like we used to be friends or something. But I’m pretty sure I’d remember you.” Leon cracks a smile when she winks at him again.

“I was going to do this earlier before you asked me out,” he turns bright red but she shushes him, “here. My number. I have a roommate, so if someone else answers don’t freak out.”

“Thanks,” he says quietly, stowing the napkin she’d stolen when he wasn’t looking safely into his wallet. He leans forward and she’s holding her breath, trying not to lean in as well to get closer-

He shakes his head once, light hair falling into his eyes as he looks up at her with the perfect delicious blend of sweet shyness and wanting. She wants to eat him alive. Losing his nerve he smiles ruefully and takes a step back down the narrow staircase.

“Goodnight, Claire.” And she can’t help but feel disappointment even though it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to run from her. She waves, watching him go, deciding whether or not to call out to him before he stops halfway down the steps, shoulders tense. She thinks she might hear him say something like “Screw it” as he turns and bounds up the steps back to her. 

Startled, she laughs- nervous, happy giggles bubbling up as he holds her face gently in his hands and looks at her so seriously, “Claire, can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely.”

For all his shyness and how unsure he seemed- Hell. She doesn’t give a damn about the rain, or her brother just behind the door she’s now leaning on, needing something to hold her up; this boy is something else. She should feel trapped with her back pressed to the wooden frame, with his hands still cradling her face but his lips on hers are soft and gentle. His thin shirt is twisted into her fingers as she pulls him closer and he doesn’t resist, letting her crush them closer together. Unable to help herself, Claire smiles, laughing when he pulls away, resting his forehead on hers.

“What?” He whispers and Claire closes her eyes to try and cement the memory of his hand sliding through her hair and pulling free the elastic, the way whatever detergent he uses mixes with the smell of rain.

Opening her eyes she realizes Leon is hesitating, worried, “Nothing, just glad you did that.” Claire catches him by surprise before he can answer, rocking up onto her toes and he wraps his arms around her to pull her close, gasping into her mouth-

Warm air rushes suddenly against her back and she loses her balance, held up now only by Leon’s arms. He immediately sets her down and steps back, clearing his throat as Chris glares exasperated from the now open doorway. Chris shakes his head, mouth in a taut line,

“Jesus Christ, really?” 

#my writing #cleon #resident evil #claire/leon #claire redfield #leon s kennedy #claire redfield/leon s kennedy

[angelelliee]

You know how NHL teams will send their players to do random shit, basically just to embarrassing them for laughs?

The Buffalo Sabres learning how to use pottery wheels.

"Y/N, can you take that 4pm class?"

"The one who asked if they could film?" You turn to your boss, Steve, who nods his head, "how many?"

"5, I think, beginner class."

"Thats fine, I'll take 'em, let me finish up this project."

10 minutes later, as you're taking the intricate vase off the wheel, a man walks in, "hi sir, how are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"I'm doing great, thank you! I'm going to take a gamble and say you're the representative from my 4pm beginner class?"

"Yes, ma'am, we're filming for the Buffalo Sabres. It should already be paid for."

"Alright, give me one second I'll get you checked in," you set the vase down on the front counter, wiping your hands off on a rag hanging on a drawer handle. You pull up the class times, "What's your name, honey?"

"It should be under Scott Balzer" (he's the videographer for the team, per nhl.com)

"Gotcha. Ah, is this- yes, there's 5 people plus crew?" He nods, "awesome, so we're gonna be in the first room on the left hand side, just to give you guys more privacy and so you're not privy to all of the hot gossip that happens around this place. I'm gonna go set you up, you can start moving all of your stuff in."

He thanks you again before turning around and disappearing out of the door. You wrap the vase and set it down with the rest of your Works in Progresses. You can see them moving camera equipment and people in and out of the room while you gather tools and water buckets.

There's 5 men standing in a huddle off to the side, who take silent directions from you when you set up their stations.

At 4pm on the dot, you sit down for class, scootching your way around the crowded room, "I'm going to be honest with you, I never know how to start these. We'll get there at some point. My name is Y/N L/N, I've been here for about 3 years. I recently graduated college with an education degree, which I'm learning now I should not have put on my resume," it pulls a hearty chuckle from the men in front of you, "Now, Mrs. Future Teacher does at least 10 of these a week. Either way, welcome to the studio. So, generally, I like to start these and just guage how much each of you know, has anyone here done anything with clay before, whether on a wheel or just kinda a little ball on the table in your highschool ceramics class?"

All of them shook their heads, "awesome, So we have 2 kinds of wheels in this studio, you're all sitting in front of an electric wheel. If you've ever operated a sewing machine before, it's powered by a pedal near your right foot. You can move the pedal over if you're more comfortable with your left foot, you can do that while I'm talking.

"We also have kick wheels here in studio, they're the manual wheels, it's all one giant rotating system, and you move the wheel by pushing off the bottom with your foot. The little ledge-slash-desk part of your wheel has all of the tools and stuff that you saw me putsing with earlier. From left to right, and you can rearrange these to your comfortability, there's a towel, you can lay this over your lap to avoid anything splashing onto you, this little medieval torture device is a wire cutter, it doesn't mean anything to you right now, but you'll use this when you're done with your creation to separate it from the board without screwing anything up. That little plastic box has some tools that you can use to shape your creations as you build it, to avoid doing a lot in the refining process later on. The most important thing, arguably, is that black bucket of water. If you feel around in there, there's gonna be a sponge floatin' somewhere near the top. This thing will be your best friend over the next hour. Most of your refining will come from ol' SpongeBob here as you're building.

"There's roughly 7 stages that clay goes through, you only need to be concerned with 3.

Fresh or Plastic clay is the block sitting on your wheel. It's the most workable form of clay, and is mostly what you build from to start.

From there, clay will go to either one of 2 ways. When you add water to fresh clay, it becomes Slip, which is pretty much what you'll be working with. You're going to add enough water to the clay, it'll turn to roughly-slip to make it easier to work with and move around where you need it to go. From there it'll dry out back into fresh clay and then into a leather hard stage. Some people divide this stage into 2, damp leather hard and firm leather hard, but we're just gonna smash 'em together for the sake of today's class. Any questions? I know it's a lot."

One of them raises their hand, "yes, my love?"

"Do you have anything in particular that we're making today?"

"Not really, if I'm being honest, we're going to try and use this as just getting a feel for the clay. The easiest to make are bowls, but you can make anything you think you can handle."

A different one raises his hand, you nod in his direction, "any advice for us?"

"99% of this art is failing. You will inevitably make something you don't like or that isn't structurally sound. You need to try again, don't let the clay get the better of you." There's a long pause while you look around the room, "before we begin, I'm going to ask all of your names, like I won't have to ask you again in 5 minutes."

They introduce themselves as Tage, Dylan, Tyson, Owen, and Jeff.

"Remember those when I inevitably have to ask you when I forget. Are we ready to start pulling pots?" There's a general agreement in the room, "Alright, so you're gonna take the block of clay off your wheel, and just get a feel for the pedal. Press it little bits at a time, so you have a basic understanding of what's going on after you throw it."

You let them play around with the wheels, teaching them that they have to keep the center of their chest in the center of their pots, like spotting pirouettes. You teach them that there's a disk on top the wheel, so its easier to move the pot and clean the wheel afterwards, "So you're gonna take your sponge out of your waterbucket, and try to get most of the water out of it. You want a thin layer of water on your wheel when you throw, just enough to force cohesion with the water in the clay so they stick together. Start from the center and pull out."

You end up having to help Tyson and Owen. You're standing on the opposite end of Tysons wheel, "slowly press the pedal. Don't try and rush, take your time, you have more of it than you think you do." You press your sponge to his wheel, watching the black disk darken, "there we go, and now you're ready to add clay."

He chuckles, "oh no, that's so scary."

"Its not that bad, I promise. Good anger management tool."

The clay ends up centered on the wheel, but not without some difficulty. You can feel eyes burning into you when you help Jeff who seems to be having some difficulty with the hand placement. You offer Tage words of encouragement while he tries, "the water isn't going to hurt you, darling."

It clicks a few seconds later, dipping his hand in the bucket of water. You look in Tysons direction, who quickly looks back down upon the realization of your eyes, you nod at Tage and Jeff who seem to be picking the task up quickly, "you guys are naturals."

Teaching them how to flatten the top was easy, "take two fingers, preferably your index and middle fingers, and slip them slowly into the center, try to keep it together when it makes a weird sound."

A 'that's what she said' joke was mumbled, much to the distaste of one of the producers.

"Y/N I'm having trouble, how did you do that?" You look up to meet Tysons eyes.

"You're going to need more water than you think you do." He dips his fingers into the bucket of water, you watch him use his left hand as a guide for the fingers on his right hand to open up the inside of the pot. Normally, it wouldn't bother you, but you find yourself staring at his hands longer than you should, "make sure you leave enough room at the bottom, don't go the whole way down."

Pulling the pots outward was met with more questions, more confusion, and a ton more one-on-one help, some jokes about recreating that one scene from Ghost, "wouldn't I be infront of you, then?"

Tyson giggles, "I guess it would defeat the purpose of my hands on top of yours-"

"If I'm the one who knows what I'm doing? pretty much." You try not to spend too much time helping Tyson, trying to evenly spread out your abilities and niches, not because he makes you uncomfortable, but to try and cover up the fact that you flush a little everytime you meet his eyes, how you lose it slightly everytime he says your name, how you smile everytime you call him the cute little pet name you call everyone that walks through the door because his guard is falling everytime "my love" slips from your lips. You try to avoid the fact that he tenses a little everytime the clay doesn't move correctly, sending the veins in his arms to the surface, how you can see the crease in his forearm, how focused is on making it good, on impressing you. You're so caught up in the moment, you forget there's more people than just the 6 of you.

You try not to spend too much time with Tyson, but there's no way he needs this much help, "there you go, just like that"

Your voice is soft and encouraging, and Tyson has never appreciated the towel draped over his lap until that moment. He knows it's wrong, he knows he shouldn't be day dreaming about you. He knows he shouldn't want to kiss you this bad, just to grab your waist and pull you towards his chest, press his lips against yours and kiss you softly, letting you chase his lips when he pulls away. He just wants to call you pretty, open doors for you, and guide you through crowds with a hand on the curve of your back.

Class finishes up before he can grow the set of balls he needs to ask for your phone number. He assumes he'd have to show his face here on his own time, until you ask the group when they're coming back to refine their pots.

Scott sets up the date, and he's immediately counting down the days, hours, hell, minutes until he sees you again.

Four days later, he finds himself back within the walls of the quaint pottery studio. He found you laughing with another girl, a song he's never heard of (country, maybe?) playing through the speaker sitting on the counter above your heads. You're elbow deep in a vase larger than anything he's ever seen, hands and arms covered in clay, your hair pulled back in a delicate clip, "Sades, can you grab that? They're for my 3pm beginner refine."

Sades nods her head, standing up from her seat across from you and checking in the group, "You're about 15 minutes early, so you can take a seat anywhere," she disappears into the office and Tyson finds himself occupying the seat infront of your wheel a few minutes later.

You look up from your pot, meeting his curious eyes, "hi, my love, how are you?"

"I'm doing better now, how are you?"

"I'm good, why better now?"

"Because I'm in the same room as you again."

"Smooth, Jost, very smooth."

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, your eyes revert back to the vase you're tending to, pulling and maneuvering the top rim outward. He takes a glance around the room, realizing that everyone is focused on something else, no one is paying any mind to you two. His eyes find you again, he's enamored by the focus you have, the delicate curves of the vase, the potential you're sitting infront of. You know he's burning holes into your soul, you flash your eyes upwards, double checking that he's watching you, "Are you okay?"

"No-yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just enjoy watching you work."

"Do you enjoy watching me work, or just watching me?"

"Maybe a little bit of both. I enjoy watching pretty girls do stuff they enjoy." You find yourself blushing, blood rushing to your face so fast you can't deny it.

"You know, you were so meek and quiet and awkward 4 days ago, what changed." You pull your hand out of the pot, standing up to wash the clay off in a sink right over his shoulder.

"I've had 4 days to daydream about you, and I realized I never asked for your phone number."

"I'm unfortunately compromised," you motion towards your arms immersed by the water, leaning slightly forward into the sink, "Give me your phone."

You wipe your hands off, and gently grab his phone out of his hand, typing in your phone number, and handing it back to him, "and now you're one step closer."

It's casual conversation as you carve details in the outside of the vase until a room opens up. Before he knows it, the conversation is long-since over, and he's being ushered into the same room he was in 4 days ago. You've taken your same spot at the front of the room, they file in the same seats as last time.

Refining goes smoother, you spend a little bit of time retelling them about the tools, what they're going for, and how this step works. There aren't too many mistakes, everyone seems to be too nervous to take more than a sliver off at a time. Soon, you're asking them to come back in 2 days to glaze them.

Tyson finds you on the way out, "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing right now, why?"

"Let me take you on a date tonight."

"Tyson, I don't know. I'm still technically your superior in a sense until-"

"Then we don't make this serious until after. Just let me take you out, I'll buy you flowers, open your door for you, give you an opportunity to wear a pretty dress, and let me treat you like a princess. One night, and then we let it go until after you're not teaching me how to make pots."

You chuckle, "we can work with that, I'll text you my address."

"I'll pick you up around 5?"

"Thats perfect."

-💍

One of these days I'll write a part 2 to this. Today is not one of these days

I FUCMING LOVE THIS

#✨💍 my beloved✨ #🐰emmy answers🐰