#maybe i need more gesture practise or something

[pjisskullourful]

K̲̅e̲̅e̲̅p̲̅i̲̅n̲̅g̲̅ S̲̅e̲̅c̲̅r̲̅e̲̅t̲̅s̲̅

🎀 Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 smutathon, adults doing adult stuff

° Damiano David/female reader insert

° you gotta know I need it, tired of losing by Keeping Secrets ||| things change between you & your longtime friend damiano when he makes a cheeky comment at a party, you cant help reading into it [based dec 2020, lets not talk about the pandemic]

wordcount::. 19,684

° commissioned by lore (@lifeofa-fangirl) 💋 i have thanked you profusely& i will continue to thank you. thanks for sticking with me through this extended process& for believing in me when i didnt believe for myself [commissions are temporarily closed]

° lyrics stolen from madison rose & kandy

° [ITA:] bella: pretty

Shooting stars crash, crack and collide In the shadows we come alive Rub your skin on my skin to ignite Burn it down baby, let’s play with fire

“This guy!” Rachel exclaimed, instantly louder than what you had been saying to Damiano. “This is exactly the guy that I’ve been waiting to see.”

You had heard similar things said to him during the couple of hours since arriving at Taren’s Christmas party. You wondered if it was tiring for him, having so many people paying him attention and expecting it back. In the two years that you had known him, he had been gradually becoming more in demand, gaining more-and-more momentum with his band. The level of fame he had achieved had changed how people in your group of friends saw him. Not everyone, but enough that you had noticed.

The only thing that it had changed for you was how much time you got to spend with him - success meant a very full schedule. But he was still the same guy to you. He was the guy that you had almost shared a kiss with on four different occasions. He was the friend that loved superhero movies just as much as you, the two of you going to the cinema whenever something new came out. He was the one guaranteed to laugh at your jokes, when others seemed to not hear you.

Your little crush on him was your secret and to remain as such, because you couldn’t compromise the solid friendship that you had. Hours spent together laughing, unprompted text messages of support, all of those things were just as good as being his girlfriend - or so you told yourself.

You knew how to handle your friendship with him (you’d had a lot of time to practise that). A relationship was a swift way to surrender any control. And you needed control, you clung to it, because you saw how badly things went when you didn’t have it.

Before turning to the enthusiastic Rachel, he made a subtle gesture to you. Your shared code for put a pin in it. He wanted to hear the end of your rant about your job.

Rachel hugged each of you in turn, but it was only a one-arm embrace. Her other arm was occupied by a sizable plastic container, the contents concealed by wrapping paper. You exchanged the polite pleasantries.

“You were waiting to see me?” He asked.

“Rum balls.” She said concisely.

“What did she just call you?” You joked, seeing the confusion on his face. That was a feeling you were currently sharing.

She removed the lid from the container and held it out so you could each look inside. There was a collection of the brown and white bite-sized treats. You recognised them as something of a Christmas tradition, but you sensed there was more context eluding you.

But Damiano appeared to have figured out what was going on. “Right, rum balls.”

“Last year when I made them, he complained.” She started to explain to you. “He said I hadn’t used enough rum, so they weren’t rum balls, they were just ‘sweet balls’.”

You theatrically rolled your eyes. “You would say sweet balls, wouldn’t you? You’re always bringing balls up. And in public, too? Where’s your sense of decency?”

He played along, furrowing his brow. “Decen-... who?”

“Yeah, maybe there’s still time to add that to your wishlist for Santa.” You said.

“I called them sweet. I didn’t say they were gross, or anything.” He told her. “I was just expecting more of that rum flavour.”

She held the container closer to the two of you. “That’s why I did them differently this year. There’s definitely enough rum in these.”

Neither you nor he immediately moved to pick up one of the treats. It was a well-shared fact that Rachel wasn’t a good cook. Not due to lack of trying or ambition. But the little hobby she pursued more often than not produced results that didn’t taste as she hoped. She couldn’t get the heat of the oven perfect, or she had to substitute an ingredient with something not mentioned in the recipe. She always found a way to make chicken dry - no matter how she prepared it, or what she paired it with. At group dinners, her dish was usually the only one with leftovers.

But she always tried again. She took the good-natured teasing for what it was, proceeding forward with the goal of one day proving everyone wrong. Victoria played her ‘fussy eater’ card to avoid trying Rachel’s creations. But she could typically get some friends to eat the food out of pity.

“So, you found a new recipe to follow this year?” You asked, your hands kept at your sides as Damiano tentatively plucked one out.

“No, the same recipe. I just did my little alterations, working off of his constructive feedback.” She said, seemingly filled with optimism and pride.

Even though you were feeling uncertain, you knew that you didn’t want to hurt your friend’s feelings. You picked up a coconut-covered sphere as he was slowly raising his to his mouth.

“Mmn.” He was enthusing as soon as the dessert touched his tongue. He smiled as he began to chew. “It’s good.”

She perked up onto her tiptoes. “Better than last year?”

“Yeah, I think-...” His swallow was slow, almost as if it required extra effort. You hesitated from eating yours, watching as his eyes grew wide. “Oh, yep, there’s- there’s the rum. That’s more rum than last year, for sure.”

You were quickly understanding his choice of words, tasting rum, and then even more rum with every bite. You felt the texture of the shredded coconut, but you couldn’t taste its sweet flavour. Likewise the taste of the cocoa had been drowned out. The tang of the alcohol filled your mouth, overpowering to a degree you hadn’t been expecting.

It was like swallowing the contents of a shot glass - and you had never been a fan of shots. The dry flavour seemed to coat your throat. But you forced a smile onto your face, stifling your dislike of this taste as she looked for your reaction. She genuinely wanted to feel like she had done a good job and you couldn’t stand the thought of taking that from her.

“Ooh, yeah. That’s very rum-y. I think he’ll have to try harder to find something to complain about with these.” You said before suddenly spurting through some small coughs. You kept smiling as you reached for your glass of water. “Sorry, the coconut just tickled my throat a little.”

“Ray.” Taren said, getting her attention. “Come on, Keith is waiting to hear how terribly that mechanic ripped you off.”

“Right, let me-”

Before she could begin to turn away, Damiano surprised her (and you) as he grabbed for the container of rum balls. “Leave these here with us, will you? I don’t think I’m finished with just one and I’m lazy so I want them closeby.”

“Yeah, I was definitely planning on having more.” You lied.

She relented, transferring the food to his hands. She appeared pleased as she walked away with Taren, heading to a different area of the expansive house. You greedily gulped down more water, wanting to rinse the taste from your mouth. He quit smiling as Rachel left from your current view.

“What’s your plan, dude?” You asked. “Because I have no intentions of helping you eat those. I already feel like I’m over the legal limit, and that’s from one.”

He wasn’t eating more as he turned to you. “I had to do something to keep her from inflicting these on anybody else. And what if she offered them to someone more blunt than us? That could ruin the whole party for her- that’s not really in the spirit of the happiest season.”

This was one of the qualities that made Damiano a great friend: he wanted everyone to get a win. He was always there when somebody needed a cheerleader, boosting them and encouraging them forward so passionately.

“You’re very sweet.” You said.

“As sweet as balls?” He asked with one of his trademark mischievous grins.

You acted as if you hadn’t heard his joke, or noticed how handsome his smile was. “But you’re not gonna get me to eat those.”

“I think I could.” He said. “Come with me for a second.”

You didn’t resist, even though you had no idea what he was leading you to. It could result in trouble, his plans had ended that way more than once.

He carried the dessert with him, heading inside from the patio. You followed along, taken into the spacious basement. This was set up as something of a game room: featuring an air hockey table, a dart board and a large TV with various gaming consoles hooked up to it. There were some people relaxing in this area, but he didn’t stop to chat with any of them, he was set on his mission.

He walked directly over to the air hockey table, which wasn’t currently in use. He spun around, allowing you to see the smile still fixed on his face. He wasn’t distracted in the slightest, his eyes completely focused on you, which brought up the beginnings of feelings you didn’t want to address.

“Beat me and you don’t have to eat any others.” He said. “But if I win-... well, maybe you don’t wanna think about that.”

“And what if I just don’t agree to play?” You asked.

His smile didn’t slip, he didn’t see this as a true threat to his plan. “Oh, you mean if you forfeit? Well, I suppose I would just leave the rum balls here and hope someone else feels like being a good friend to Rachel…”

He was banking on your competitive side being activated. He had seen on countless occasions how much you loved to win at any kind of game or contest. He knew how difficult you found it to walk away if there was a slight chance that you could win, and he was exploiting this.

And you were letting it happen, wearing a smile to match his. Because who else were you going to hang out with? There were no other friends that you would prefer to spend time with. You knew that the best fun of the night would come from him and you weren’t done soaking up his company.

“Alright. The winner gets the most points out of seven games?” You said, going over to one end of the table.

He set the rum balls down closeby, then took up his position at the other end. “Uh-huh.”

You turned the table on, activating the miniscule air vents that covered the surface. The puck was placed inside of the painted circle, the middle point of the rectangular table’s length. You each collected your circular paddles, which weren’t much bigger than the palm of your hand.

“Ladies first.” He offered and you acted quickly, hoping to catch him off-guard. But this didn’t work out, with him ready to send the puck flying your way before it could get too close to the goal.

You kept going, striking the puck from different angles. You hit it so hard that it flew across the table at an impressive speed. It moved too fast for him, slipping past his paddle and into the little recess that served as your goal.

“Ladies first indeed.” You boasted, wearing a bigger smile now.

You almost forgot about everyone else in the room as you focused so intently on the game. You couldn’t look away for a second. Your mind rushed to come up with tactics, needing to come up with the key to winning.

And you succeeded - earning six goals to his singular point. You did a little happy dance while he accepted his defeat, that spectacular smile leaving his face. He ate another rum ball and with Rachel out of the room, he didn’t fake any part of his reaction. Instantly he grimaced, seeming to labour through each bite. He shut his eyes as he swallowed, all of the joy gone from his expression.

“Bloody Hell, I’m not sure that she left any rum for the rest of the world. It’s all in those little disasters.” He said.

“Why did you say they needed more rum?” You asked.

“Because that was the only thing I could think of to tell her. And I thought she would add an extra teaspoon or something, not an extra ten litres.” He said.

“Well those ten litres are all for you, my friend. Because I’m just getting started on my winning streak.” You said.

He stepped up to the table’s edge, wrapping his fingers around the paddle’s handle again. “We’ll see about that.”

You won the next set of games as well, feeling your cockiness swelling up, even though he had improved, gaining three points this time. His suffering added to your victory and you let yourself get carried away with it, laughing with the malice of a Disney villain. He scrunched his face up even more, adding extra drama to his reaction to this serving of the dessert.

The trash talking started with the next round, each of you enjoying getting invested in this contest. You gleefully teased one another, your words selected to get laughs, not to incite any actual hurt. This became a playful contest, each of you trying to find the most outrageous thing to say. You mangled one another’s names, adding extra syllables so the word loser could be incorporated. There were times when you were too distracted by laughing that he could sneak the puck past you, scoring more than a few points this way.

The teasing only got louder after Ethan had followed through on his offer of getting each of you drinks. This was your third glass of alcoholic eggnog tonight and you were enjoying the buzz you had developed. You didn’t often drink, but when you did you liked the fun-loving side it brought out of you. You got looser, forgetting about those responsibilities that plagued your days.

It didn’t take long for the eggnog to disappear. You used its far superior taste to rinse your mouth after losing and being forced to consume more of the rum balls.

Their intense flavour wasn’t getting any more appealing. So you concentrated harder after every loss. You began trying to fake him out, moving like you were going to hit the puck from the right, only to actually strike from the left. But this only worked a couple of times, the rest he could easily block.

“That’s, like, the third time you’ve done that.” He noted when you came in too strong with your paddle, sending the puck into a momentum that launched it over the raised frame of the table. “You’re getting too aggressive.”

“Boo-hoo. I lose that point every time it happens, so it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. It just happens.” You said, leaving collecting the puck from the floor up to him.

“I don’t know if losing the point is doing enough to discourage you, maybe we need a harsher penalty.” He said as he returned the puck to its starting point.

You narrowed your eyes as you looked at him. “Like what?”

“You hit it off the table and you lose the point, but you’ve also gotta eat a rum ball.” He said.

“What? That’s a bit of overkill, don’t you think?” You responded.

He smiled as he pushed the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt further up his forearms. “Don’t knock it off the table and it won’t be your problem.” You rolled your eyes as he grabbed the top of his paddle, returning to his less-relaxed stance. “Alright, we’re at a draw of three points each and it’s my serve.”

You gripped your paddle tightly, not thinking of any funny things to say as you clenched your jaw. He hit the puck in your direction and you tapped it back, not following through with all of your power. He moved to the right, ready to knock it away from his goal. It zipped across the table, quicker than before. You were getting into position, anticipating where it would travel to after ricocheting off the side.

But its speed continued, launching the disc over the frame and onto the ground. Instantly you started to laugh, especially tickled by the way his face fell. He was silent as he grabbed the puck from the ground, then he went to the container of Rachel’s dessert.

“Don’t knock it over the side and it won’t be your problem.” You quoted him, deepening your voice in your effort to imitate him.

He frowned as he ate another rum ball, apparently he was struggling just as much as you were to find anything to like about them. He dusted the excess shredded coconut off of his hands before walking back over to the table.

“Hang on. Aren’t you forgetting something here, dude?” You brought up, successfully getting him to pause. “That’s a point to me, four to three- you lose this round. You have to eat another one.”

He complied without any enthusiasm, but you were grinning the whole time. He popped a rum ball into his mouth, chewing it unhappily. He visibly shuddered as he swallowed it, poking his tongue out to further express his distaste.

He had a couple of mouthfuls of water as he returned to his position opposite you. “Alright, get ready to pay for that.”

“Ooo, I’m so scared.” You mocked. “My serve.”

You proceeded through more rounds, wins shared mostly evenly between the two of you. From time-to-time different people came over to watch, Victoria was very excited over the prospect of him losing. Rachel didn’t appear in the room, allowing you to keep torturing one another with her food.

“I think we should call time.” You said before a new round could begin - even though you weren’t sure how long you had spent playing. Time could behave strangely when you were around Damiano. Hours could pass under the guise of minutes, leaving you feeling like you needed more.

“Aw, do you need a break from getting beaten?” He mocked. This façade was immediately dropped. “Actually, I was so close to suggesting that myself. I don’t think I can physically eat one more.”

You looked into the container, your hands held behind your back as you surveyed what remained inside. “We ate at least half- maybe more. She’s got to be pleased with that. I would say we were way more generous than just having a pity nibble.”

“Yeah, but at what cost to ourselves?” He asked, overly solemn.

You agreed that some fresh air was necessary. You could feel how ruddy your cheeks were as you stepped back onto the patio. You considered whether your current state could be categorised as tipsy. You sat down on one of the padded benches, but he didn’t join you.

“I’m gonna get us some water.” He said and you were quickly nodding along to show your support. “And some kind of something to eat to soak up the rum- a bit of it.”

As he was leaving through the door, he passed by Thomas, the guitarist walking in the opposite direction. He came over to where you were sitting on your own, greeting you with a smile.

“Hey, I feel like I’ve barely seen you tonight. Where have you been hiding?” He asked.

“Oh, I was with Damiano.” You said and the way his eyebrows jumped up couldn’t go unnoticed. “We were playing air hockey.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these-days?” He asked, lightly nudging your side with his elbow.

“What? We really were.” You defended, your voice getting a little louder as discomfort trickled in.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that you didn’t meet under the mistletoe, and that’s why you were missing for hours, and why your face is all flushed?”

You didn’t know how to handle your friend’s scepticism at first. “Is there mistletoe? I haven’t seen it.”

“Nice deflection.” He said, still wearing that sly smile.

“I promise you that we were just playing air hockey.” You told him sincerely. “Ask Ethan, he saw us.” Unfortunately for you, the drummer was nowhere in sight. “Or if you wait for, like, a minute, you can ask Damiano himself when he gets back.”

“It’s okay, I’m not genuinely going to call you a liar.” Thomas said, trying a different approach. “I just wouldn’t be surprised if you guys did sneak off to be alone.”

“Really, why?” You asked.

“Sometimes there’s a vibe between the two of you.” He said.

You furrowed your brow - was your secret crush on Damiano a lot less secret than you were aware of? “A vibe between us? What kind of vibe?”

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, a vibe.” Him adding extra emphasis didn’t help you gain any clarity.

“A vibe? Oh good, I was worried you would be vague about it.” You sarcastically quipped.

You didn’t get the chance to get any more information out of him. Instead you were swiftly trying to act inconspicuous as Damiano made his return.

“You’re going to be really happy with me, dude.” He told you, both of his hands were very full. “I found a little stash of dinner rolls for us.”

“Is that to help you get your energy back after all of that air hockey?” Thomas asked, apparently not done with stirring the pot.

“Oh, she was bragging about all of her victories while I was gone, was she?” Damiano asked.

“No.” Thomas said, turning to look at you. “Did you beat him?”

You smirked after being handed a cup of water and a few small bread rolls. “Of course I did.”

“We were pretty even. It’s not like you were wiping the floor with me.” Damiano defended.

“You take my seat, man. I’m gonna go see if I can find that mistletoe.” Thomas said, standing up.

“Mistletoe?” Damiano repeated. “Who do you need that for?”

Thomas patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll hang it above my ass, just for you.”

Damiano grinned. “Hell yeah, I was hoping I would get lucky at this party.”

Instead of responding with another joke, Thomas just shot a look in your direction. You thought the smile on his face was saying more. 

But he didn’t cause any trouble for you, waving as he departed. Damiano sat down next to you, apparently oblivious as he bit into a bread roll.

“Thanks for getting the food.” You said after having a gulp of water.

“You’re welcome.” He replied casually. “You know you only got so many wins because you kept topping the puck, right?”

You knew what he was referring to, using the flat bottom of a paddle on top of the puck to halt it, gaining control of its momentum. But you didn’t know why he was bringing it up.

“I was not.” You said.

“Dude, you were.” He said.

“If I was doing that- if- why didn’t you call it out when I was supposedly doing it?” You asked. “I never topped, and you can ask all my exes, they will confirm that fact.”

The words had slipped out of your mouth. Your cheeks immediately filled with a hot blush as you mentally scolded yourself for your lack of impulse control. You blamed the alcohol in your system as you covered your mouth with your fingers. You wished you hadn’t said it, and you didn’t know how to play it off.

His eyes lit up. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You began shaking your head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“What? Why? It’s not like I’m judging you for your position preferences.” He said.

This didn’t help you to stop blushing. Was he thinking about it, or picturing it in any way? You didn’t know what you wanted the answer to be and you were finding it difficult to meet his eye.

“Thanks. It would be pretty awkward if you unfriended me just because I'm a bottom.” You said, finding a way to joke through this.

He laughed. “As if.” You dared to look up at him again. “The reason I'm gonna unfriend you is for you topping the puck.”

“I was not!” You burst out, your indignation making him laugh more. “If you saw it, you should have said something.”

“I'll have to remember it for next time we play.” He said, his laughter stopping. “Oh, I’m an asshole. I totally forgot that you were in the middle of telling me about that friction at work, with what’s-her-name.” He said. “That’s my bad, dude. Did you wanna tell me more about that, her being overbearing as Hell?”

Sumia seemed like a safe topic to move onto - you could get back to how you had been communicating earlier, when you had been at ease, your feelings seemed less unavoidable then.

And your co-worker gave you a lot to vent about.

“I don’t know how much more patience I have for her and her telling me how to manage my team.” You said.

“Why does she think she’s your supervisor?” He asked.

“Beats me. Supervisors make more money, so maybe that’s what she’s angling for.” You said. “It’s like she’s trying to prove that she can do that job, by supposedly helping improve how the lab runs. But there’s no indication that the boss has that kind of promotion to give.”

He had finished eating, crossing one leg over the other towards you. He rested his elbow on the top knee and then held his chin in his hand as he listened to you. “Maybe she’s into manifestation.”

“Maybe she’s a jerk.” You said, grateful when he let this pass without pointing out the immaturity of trying to make this part of your argument. “She’s a shadow, a really terrible shadow. It’s like she’s always waiting for me to slip up. Instead of doing her actual job, she watches for me to do something that she doesn’t agree with slightly, so she can run off and tell everyone I’ve been naughty or something.”

“Well I hope she’s not in touch with Santa.” He said, surprising you out of your train of thought. You cocked your head to the side as you looked at him, too perplexed to speak. “‘Cause naughty girls get punished by Santa, you know.”

The image surged into your mind - too fast and too powerful for you to fend off. Your friend wearing only a Santa hat, calling you naughty. The word punish posed so many possibilities and your mind wanted to explore them, your heart already racing just as your thoughts were.

Your eyes had grown wide and you could feel the revealing blush in your cheeks again. It felt like your mouth was stuck shut as you willed this increasingly-detailed fantasy from your brain.

You didn’t have to be speaking to give him a response he wanted to observe. His eyes remained on your face, watching the changes in your expression - which were beyond your control. A smile was beginning on his mouth as you were scrambling to keep yourself together.

“This isn’t the reaction I was expecting. You’re looking a little shocked.” He said.

“Am I?” You asked and an attempt at clearing your throat brought on some coughing.

“Yeah, why are you acting like this is brand new information?” He asked.

You looked down at your lap, finding the napkin your bread rolls had been resting on was clear, you couldn’t use your food as a distraction. “I’m not trying to act that way.”

“Okay.” He said and when you looked up again, it was to find that he was still wearing his amused smile.

You feared what he might say if you asked what he was smiling about. You wanted to know, but you feared the change it could bring.

You were trying to recall a normal way to act. Maybe you could have found the right thing to say - 

- if not for Rachel serving as an interruption, again.

“You guys, oh my God, you ate so many.” She said as she rushed over to where the two of you were sitting. She carried the container and wore a broad smile. “Someone said you were eating them the whole time you were playing air hockey.”

Now that the focus had shifted, you found that your ability to speak normally had mostly returned. You had to protect Rachel’s feelings, and you had to make sure that eating all of those rum balls hadn’t been for nothing. “Did they say anything else?”

“Like what?” She asked, proving how oblivious she was, which ushered in some of the relief that you needed.

Before she could read too much into your question, he was distracting her with compliments - tapping into that charm he had a seemingly endless supply of. “Of course we ate so many, they’re great. I don’t know about her, but it was hard to stop once I started eating them. Maybe all that extra rum made them addictive.”

You nodded along to what he was saying and it was clear that she was buying it as she went on smiling brightly, standing with her shoulders pushed back. The dishonesty was giving her a boost in confidence - could it be such a bad thing?

“I feel a little bad that we had so many before anyone else could really have a chance to try them.” As he spoke, the movement of Thomas coming back onto the patio caught your eye.

“No, I think there’s still enough left.” She said.

“Hey Ray.” He greeted, standing beside her.

She swung her body to face him, presenting him with the selection of dessert she still had. “Hi, have a rum ball?”

“Oh, nice.” He said, his optimism surprising you. Did he think she had purchased them, instead of making them? “I was hoping someone would bring these.”

Damiano grabbed your wrist, each of you watching carefully as Thomas picked out one of the rum balls. There was no way to guess how he would react - he had always been a wild card like that.

He began to eat and it appeared there were no issues. He didn’t wince or frown at all.

“Mmm.” He hummed as he swallowed it down. “That’s good, it isn’t too sweet.”

“That’s exactly what I was going for.” She said, briefly showing Damiano a favourable smile.

Thomas wasn’t dropping the act. Was his poker face stronger than you had realised? He took another of the small spheres, happily eating this as well, not needing to be pressured into doing it.

At the same time, you and Damiano looked at each other. You could already tell that he was thinking the same as you - your unpleasant efforts hadn’t needed to be undertaken at all. While you had been groaning through every mouthful, Thomas would have enjoyed eating Rachel’s dessert, fulfilling her desire to have her cooking validated.

You started laughing first, feeling foolish but not embarrassed. As Damiano continued to look at you, he joined you in fits of laughter. That sense of obligation towards Rachel was evaporating and you kept laughing as even more relief took its place. His hand went from your wrist, now holding your hand. You were united in finding this unexpected outcome ridiculous.

“What are you two laughing about? What could possibly be this funny?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, you know what they’re like, always up to something, that’s their vibe.” Thomas said.

As you tried to get your laughter under control, you shot a glare in Thomas’ direction. But it seemed that Damiano had missed the statement and its potential subtext, he was too busy giggling to notice.

The other two left after a moment and his continued snickering made you want to start up again.

“Dude.” He said through a gasp for air.

“We literally didn’t need to do that, any of it.” You said, smiling as you shook your head. “I’m gonna have rum in my system for weeks. And the whole time, Tom would have eaten them and spared Rachel from heartbreak.”

He was still laughing. “Her Christmas spirit didn’t need us to save it.”

“We are so dumb.”

You properly noticed that he was still holding your hand and you looked at how your fingers fit perfectly with his. He had held your hand before (squeezing through crowded clubs and not wanting to lose track of each other, amongst other instances). You told yourself that this shouldn’t feel any more significant than the other times it had happened. You rejected your own inclination that this was a ‘couple-y’ thing to do.

But you missed his hand in yours as soon as he took it away. He used his fingers to wipe beneath his eyes as he steadily brought his laughter to an end. “That’s my bad, I should have remembered that he eats absolutely anything.”

“Yeah, I thought you guys were supposed to be brothers.” You said.

He looked you in the eye, he had quit laughing, but he was still smiling. “That’s definitely naughty girl behaviour.”

You stared back at him, denying the insistent imagery your mind was all too ready to produce. “What, what are you talking about?” Once again you were trapped under that gaze that seemed to see too much.

“Lying, only naughty girls lie.” He said.

You knew that the way you were holding yourself together would disintegrate further if he said more words. “Can we drop this?”

He playfully pushed you a little further. “Why, do you not like being called that?”

You kept your lips firmly pressed together. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t risk slipping up. It was the opposite of not liking him calling you a naughty girl, but you didn’t know how to make sense of that for yourself. There was no way you could explain it to him.

The teasing smile fixed to his face made you squirm. It differed to the typical way you would make fun of each other. A thought occurred to you - if you kissed him you wouldn’t have to see that smile anymore, you could get a break from its disarming effects.

This situation had shifted and you could feel the control you used to protect yourself under threat. And you weren’t ready to be without it, regardless of how appealing and handsome he was.

You had to fight yourself, and your urges, back, the effort feeling almost physical. But you did it, producing distance between the two of you by getting to your feet.

“I’m gonna go and see if I can find some pudding. I would like to get to the part of this night where I’m eating a dessert I don’t have to pretend to enjoy.” You said. “I’ll see you later, dude.”

“See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.” He said, showing no signs of hurt feelings.

You didn’t hesitate to walk back inside, you needed space and time. You knew that you and your friend could get back to normal before too long. But for the moment you needed solitude, time for the ripples he had created to die out.

*** *** ***

 Hey dude. Are you home? I kinda have a favour to ask…

This wasn’t the first time you were hearing from Damiano in the week since the Christmas party. The way you had been communicating could be characterised as normal, the word naughty hadn’t been used once.

But that didn’t mean you had stopped thinking about it. When your brain wasn’t actively engaged with something (work, Pilates), it wandered and a fantasy was unfolding. In your mind’s eye you saw a Santa hat as the concept of punishment produced many ideas. Would it be spanking? Would it be restraints on your body? Would it be more telling you how bad you were?

Your ventures into rough play had been short. Previous partners had treated it as a brief aspect of foreplay, doing as much as it took to turn them on before progressing to the ‘main event’. How much you wanted was usually ignored, but your people-pleasing tendencies kept you from voicing any complaints.

As you imagined going further than you had before, you willed a different face to appear under the Santa hat. You didn’t want it to be your friend. You tried to replace him with Harry Styles, or other celebrities you found sexy. Or a guy that you had gotten a crush on in the four months that you had worked together - what was his name?

But Damiano’s visage always returned to claim ownership of this role. There was a vast catalogue of memories that could be called upon to create a very clear image. You had gone swimming together countless times, you were familiar with what he looked like in nothing but a Speedo. Maybe other people at these group activities didn’t pay as much attention to his body as you did. But you always found something to like.

The fantasy always stirred something deep in your gut. You didn’t hate it, but you didn’t want it in your brain. It could compromise what you had and enjoyed.

You hoped for it to be a phase. It was like getting a song stuck in your head, it couldn’t stay on a loop forever. Sooner or later, your mind would move onto the next.

For now you were doing everything in your power to act normally with him. Surely the actions would impact your mental state, taking you back to a place of feeling normal (and in control).

Tell me what the favour is first. Maybe I’m not sure if I’m home yet.

You considered the words before hitting the send icon. Typically you gave messages a pre-send proofread to make sure there were no embarrassing spelling errors.

This was different: you were checking for anything that could be misconstrued or turned into innuendo. You had to conceal the swirl in your mind, picking up the implications that came with him reaching out to you so late at night. Why was he thinking about you past 11PM? Was it too much of a stretch to think he might be having difficulty falling asleep in a way that was linked to you? All of these theories had to be kept to yourself.

Haha. I’ll see you in about 20. He responded.

You stared at the screen of your mobile phone, feeling like you were on the way to becoming out of your depth. Hold up! You still haven’t told me what the favour is yet.

There was a brief pause (time for you to squirm on your sofa and tap your fingernails on the phone’s case) before you received his next message. I ran out of wrapping paper. None of the stores are open this late. & I’m driving to see my family tomorrow afternoon.

Running out of wrapping paper on Christmas Eve sounded like a stressful situation to be stranded in. It wasn’t a problem for you to worry about - you had packaged up your final purchase earlier in the week. You were the perfect person to rescue him and he was especially grateful when you confirmed that you could help him out.

From the highest platform of his cat tree, Iggy watched you sit up on the couch. You halted the renovation show that you had been watching, now motivated to get to your feet.

With the purpose of his visit so obviously platonic, it would have been odd to try to impress him, too much effort put into your appearance would be a waste. But you didn’t want to look like crap either. You went into the bathroom because brushing your teeth seemed like the best place to start. As you did this, you considered your reflection. The pyjamas you were wearing weren’t covered in any kind of embarrassing print and the robe you wore didn’t have gross stains on it.

You looked casual and comfortable. This wouldn’t be the first time he had seen you in your pyjamas. They were hardly glamorous or sexy, but they were you: the friend that he knew he could rely on.

After brushing your hair, you gathered the supplies he would need to get the gifts ready for his family. You placed all of this on the coffee table.

Instead of sitting on the sofa to await his arrival, you headed in the direction of your bedroom. You had just decided that putting a bra on was a good idea.

Suddenly Iggy was done with his lazing about. Your cat went sprinting past you, needing to get to the bedroom before you, for some unknown reason.

He had just disappeared out of your sight when you heard a knocking on the door. You would have to face Damiano without a bra, as your cat maintained his anti-social way of life.

You opened the door and couldn’t help laughing at what you found waiting for you. Damiano was dressed up - wearing an elf costume, complete with a hat and a green shirt that had a bright red collar. In one hand he carried a large fabric sack, it seemed a bit extra to transport his family’s gifts like this. But maybe he was this level of dedicated to the joke.

He smiled, seeming pleased with your reaction. “Are you going to let me in, or just stand there laughing at me?”

You moved to the side, still laughing as he came inside. “I’m sorry, but seriously, what are you wearing? Did you guys have some kind of themed Christmas show? Because I do not remember you mentioning that.” There was a bell at the tip of his green hat and it made a merry little sound with every step he took. “Or is this a service that you provide to the community every year? You put this costume on and you go door-to-door spreading the festive spirit?”

Once he had reached the lounge room, he stopped walking, turning to face you and you could see he was still smiling. “No, you’re the only one I’m seeing.”

“Okay. Well, can the elf wrap the presents himself? Or was he expecting me to help ‘cause I’m good with ribbons?” You asked.

“I lied about needing wrapping paper.” He said.

“Huh? Why would you do that?” You asked, more confused than upset by the deception.

“It was the only excuse I could come up with to come and see you. I needed to see you.” He said, his tone more serious than you had been expecting of a man dressed in a novelty T-shirt.

“What on Earth is going on?” You asked. You were trying to pick up clues from his expression, but you weren’t sure you had seen him like this before.

“Okay. So, part of this thing is that I wanted to give you a good laugh. I know how stressful your job has been lately and I know that you’ll be spending Christmas alone.” He said and it was flattering to know how well he listened to you, even when you were just talking about your parents going to England to spend the holiday with your little sister. “I figured you could use a little extra merriment, from an external source. And it seems like I accomplished that, awesome.”

“Yeah, you have.” You said. “What’s the other part to this?”

He paused to set the sack down on the floor and take a deep breath. “Don’t feel any pressure to respond in a certain way. I’m gonna be honest with you and I just want you to be honest back.”

“Okay.” You said - you were too confused to joke with him in any way. Your brain was so preoccupied that you had stopped noticing the silly hat and shirt.

“I want you.” He said.

The monumental statement wasn’t followed up by any laughter, keeping the sincerity present.

“I don’t mean to surprise you with this. But it kind of surprised me.” He said, happy to fill the silence as you remained too stunned to speak. “It started at the Christmas party-... well, maybe that’s not fully true. I guess I’ve thought about you, us, a couple of times. But it changed, it got more serious after the party.

“I was genuinely joking with that naughty girl stuff, ‘cause that’s what we do, lightening the mood and all that. But the way you reacted… I would have to be blind to not see that. You were having thoughts about it that went beyond a joke, maybe feelings, too.

“A lot of people think you’re shy, I’ve seen new people come into the group with that perception of you. And by extension of that, you seem innocent.” He said. “But I don’t think you’re what you appear to be. Your reaction makes me think that you like being called names and you like being put in your place, in a very un-innocent way.

“And thinking about you like that you got me all worked up. And I’ve barely been able to get it out of my head. So I thought we could bring our ideas of what Santa would do with a naughty girl together, and see what we like best.” He said and he picked up the sack, bringing it to sit in front of his feet. “I have my bag of tricks and I have a role that you could play, if you’re interested…”

He paused, looking down as he drew in a deep breath. “And if you’re not… I completely respect that. I will just go away, I might hit up Rachel’s place on the way home and see if she has any rum that she can share, so then I can drink this embarrassing moment out of my brain.”

“She’s not gonna have it. There isn’t a single drop left anywhere in Italy because she used it all.” You said, smiling. “They’re rushing to import more from the West Indies, but that would take a couple of weeks to get here.”

He met your gaze again, smiling as well. You supposed that he was waiting for you to say something. 

You powered through the trepidation, endeavouring to meet him in the middle. You had to act on your feelings, denying them hadn’t gotten you anything good.

You walked the short distance that separated the two of you. The way he was looking at you added to the certainty you felt, able to combat the nerves. You were filled with adrenaline and the concept of stopping didn’t feel possible.

You placed yourself directly in front of him. You stepped over the sack with one foot as you raised both of your hands to his face. You cradled his cheeks in your hands, wondering if you had ever before been able to truly appreciate all of the beautiful features of his face at the same time like this. He was familiar, but changed enough to provide new excitement.

You expressed these different feelings by kissing him. And putting your lips to his felt immediately good, not that level of awkwardness a first kiss could hold. You weren’t making adjustments, nothing needed to be changed.

After a moment (perhaps giving you a window of time to change your mind and back out of this whole thing) he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your heart was fluttering as you tasted more-and-more of his top lip, the pleasing scent of his cologne adding to this. One of your hands travelled up, moving into his soft hair, enjoying what wasn’t trapped under the obnoxious hat.

You parted very slightly, your nose still resting against his as you tried to somewhat catch your breath. “Naughty girls get punished by Santa.” You said, not needing to pause to recall these words that had been ever-present in your mind since first hearing him say it.

“That’s right.” He said.

“Then how come you’re dressed as an elf?” You asked, teasing.

He laughed lightly, which you joined in on. “This was what I had at home. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” You said. “I don’t see it bothering me for long. Everything’s gonna come off of your body soon.”

He was grinning. “Are we-... do you really wanna do this?”

You caressed his cheek. “Yes, I’ve hardly been able to stop thinking about it too. But this isn’t the only time I’ve thought about you like this. Not to sound like a high schooler, but I’ve got a crush on you.”

“And you never told me?” He asked, the tips of his fingers playing at the spot under your chin. “Keeping secrets is more naughty girl behaviour.”

“It sounds like there’s a lot of things you could punish me over.” You said, the adrenaline keeping you from being too shy to say something like this. You could inhabit this character and speak your truth without overthinking every single word.

“Have you ever been punished before?” He asked, his tone less flirty.

“No, but I wanna be.” You said.

He gave you a brief kiss before taking a small step back. “We need to start with boundaries because I don’t wanna do anything that interrupts your fun. I’m not going to do this with you unless we do it the right way.” You nodded along, even though you didn’t fully understand what was expected of you yet. “Do you have any strict no’s?”

You couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated. Usually it took a few dates for you to get into this kind of kinky conversation, but you had only kissed this guy a couple of times.

“Uhm, I'm not a big fan of anal. If this is something you’re into, I’m sorry, but I don’t like calling people Daddy…”

“That’s totally fine.” He said. “Do you have a safe word?”

“No.”

“Well, have a think about it.” He said. “I don’t mean to make it sound intimidating. If there’s something you don’t want to do, you just have to tell me.”

You made an attempt at looking more confident, pushing your shoulders back slightly. “I’m not intimi-...” He compelled you back towards honesty without any words, a glance was all it took. “I’ll let you know.” In his silence, you noticed how the smile on his face was growing. “What, why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something funny?”

“No, there’s nothing funny. You’re just really adorable right now.” He said. “And I’m not used to seeing you like this. I like watching you squirm, it’s not how you usually act around me and it’s not just so fucking cute. It also gives me inspiration, it makes me want to do other things to see what else makes you squirm.”

“I’m squirming?” You asked, all of these movements had been happening involuntarily, they didn’t feel significant to you.

He had walked over closer to you again. “Yes and I’m getting a little obsessed with it.”

“I bet you could show me all new ways to squirm.” You said.

“Only if you're a good girl…”

You were smiling as he put his fingers under your chin, guiding you to tilt your head back so he could capture your mouth with a kiss. There was safety and excitement in the way he wrapped his arms around you. You didn’t resist this rush for one second, letting your lips part at the first touch of his tongue because you wanted to indulge deeper.

Before you could find that perfect rhythm with him, he was bringing the kiss to a gentle end. You waited to feel his lips again as his breath continued to caress your face.

When you opened your eyes, you found that he wasn’t moving in for another kiss. Instead he was carefully studying your face, seemingly unwilling to overlook a single feature. For the first time in your life, you felt like you understood what it meant to be admired.

“I'm more turned on than intimidated.” You wanted to clarify.

“And I intend to keep it like that.” He said as he smiled. “Do you wanna go into the bedroom?”

“Uh-huh, I really want to.”

He picked up the holiday-themed bag and you began down the short hallway.

The epiphany came to you as you were walking and you immediately spun around, needing to share the thought.

“Grinch.” You stated.

He stared at you, waiting for it to be his turn to talk. “I’m gonna need some sliver of context before I can get to be as happy about this word as you are.”

“What if we make Grinch the safe word?” You asked. “Or is that a bit too obvious and uninspired?”

“Of course we can use that. Good work, baby.” He said.

The way that he sounded so pleased added an extra spring in your step as you continued toward the bedroom. Earning his approval was having an effect on you.

And you definitely liked the sound of him calling you baby. It was so different from the way he would usually address you, joking as he called you dude. This rolled off his tongue giving you some intriguing feelings, which you didn’t feel compelled to run from. Your old reactions wouldn’t suffice in this brand new scenario.

Once you were standing in the illuminated bedroom you turned to face him, and he was instantly upon you. It seemed that none of the toys he had brought were breakable, with him paying no attention to how the sack landed after he had tossed it in the direction of your bed. You were more than willing to be distracted from this, getting swept up in more of his exciting kisses. He put his hands to either side of your face, holding you in exactly the place he wanted. You wrapped your arms around his middle, feeling the acceleration past the point of no return - you could not walk it back from here. 

You savoured how it felt to explore beyond the typical with him. His lips left yours, travelling downwards. As he continued gracing your skin with kisses, he tilted his head and the bell attached to his hat jingled. It was almost funny how out of place it was, failing to add anything to the established mood.

But you didn’t want to laugh and you didn’t want to hear anymore of it. You grabbed for the cap’s tail, the bell ringing again as you pulled the hat off of his head. His mouth was discovering your neck as you tossed the accessory away, hearing the jingle for the last time. Your hands moved into his hair, the soft strands gliding between your fingers. His slow kisses moved across more of your neck. You wondered if he would leave marks, they would be exciting to wear.

He paused before getting too much lower. “I can’t get to any of the fun bits, you’re so bundled-up.”

You scoffed. “It’s winter and it’s nighttime. What were you expecting, should I be lying around my apartment in lacy lingerie and high heels?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“You should be lying around in absolutely nothing.” He said.

“I guess that I’m gonna be the first present you unwrap this year.” You said.

He smiled and returned his lips to yours. But the distraction of getting you out of your clothes soon took priority. You saw the enthusiasm on his face as he undid the tie of your fuzzy bathrobe. He didn’t take his time, moving consistently quickly to remove your layered comfortable clothing.

Your skin formed goosebumps as you became more exposed. But this wasn’t in response to the low temperature that had seen you grab for so much covering. This was the anticipation, which was also keeping a blush in your cheeks.

You didn’t feel judged as his eyes took in all of the details of your naked body. You knew that your safety with him wasn’t at risk.

He began to experience your body beyond sight, and the touch of his hands brought to your attention just how sensitive you were. A caress to the small of your back brought warmth into your gut. The way he gave your hip an affectionate squeeze made you notice a tremble in your knees.

For the moment you had entirely forgotten about his sack, you definitely weren’t trying to guess at which sex toys were inside. You were feeling like a toy yourself, being played with. He was gently exploring you, getting a hint of your features that lay beneath the surface. 

His fingers continued to trail all over your bare skin and you saw the tantalising sparkle in his eyes before he gave you some more kisses. You wrapped your arms around his middle, low enough that you could slip your hands under the hem of his festively foolish shirt. Now it was your turn for fingers to trail as you appreciated his skin differently to ever before.

You followed your inclination to experience more of this, aware of your greed rising. One of your hands travelled up his back, while the other pulled the hem up because you were wondering how it would feel to have your bare skin pressed against his. It was a very inviting idea and you continued to gradually raise the bottom of his shirt.

His fingers caressed your cheeks as the kiss reached a gradual conclusion. “Are you feeling a bit eager? Don’t get too distracted now, you’re the one getting unwrapped here, babe.”

“What? I’m just trying to make it more even, is that so bad?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t classify impatience as a good girl quality.” He said with just the right amount of sternness in his voice.

You played along, pouting your bottom lip out a little. “You’re gonna make my punishment harder ‘cause I don’t like to wait?”

“Your punishment will be as harsh as you want it.”

“As harsh as you want.” You corrected.

“I have something that could be a counter to that impatience before you get too unruly.” He said.

“Alright, I trust you.”

It seemed that this was the right answer because it earned you some more kisses. As you soaked up the heat from his body, he slightly altered the way he was holding you. One of his hands reached lower to the back of your thigh and his arm tightened around your waist. Squeezing you close to him, he manipulated your body until both of your feet were leaving the ground.

This gave you a different type of rush. You had never been carried by a partner like this before. You clung to him as your eagerness continued to run rampant through your system, unwilling to forfeit its dominance. The muscles on his arms that you had noticed a fair amount of times weren’t just for show, he held you steady. He took careful steps, moving blindly as his focus went to continuing to kiss you.

He made it to the bed with barely a falter of his grip. The momentum changed and you were moved away from his body, his hands guiding you elsewhere. Your butt reached the mattress first as your eyes started to flutter open.

He was in the ideal spot directly in front of you for no more than a second. Then he was turning away, fetching the bag he had brought to delight you with. You regained your balance, trying to anticipate what he was about to show you, even though there were no visual clues. Judging by what he had said, you expected some form of restraints - but which style would he favour? Fuzzy handcuffs would go with the novelty of a Santa sack. Or did he prefer the precision and care of tying you up manually?

Amongst the other items in the sack, he found one, showing it to you as he walked over again. You were pleased to be proven correct by the sight of handcuffs, his thumb hooked through one of the shut loops. These weren’t novelty items, there were two thick cuffs that appeared to be made of leather. Despite the cute stars printed across them, you knew they would be strong enough to hold you.

“Would you like to veto these?” He asked. “And there isn’t a limit on your vetoes, you can use as many as you need.”

You were shaking your head before he had finished speaking. You weren’t very interested in ruling things out - you had already decided that you wanted to show off how much you could take. You were attached to the idea of impressing him.

Your eyes went to his other hand, which held the bag, its shape distorted by the items it still held. “It’s pretty obvious you didn’t just come over here with some cuffs. What’s left in that sack, what else did you bring?”

He smiled without a hint of bashfulness. “I think you’re probably better off asking what I didn’t bring.”

He wasn’t about to show you his entire hand yet. Instead of upending the bag, he reached in to collect something else currently out of your sight. A subtle crease came into his brow as he briefly concentrated. Before you could offer any assistance, he achieved his goal and showed you two of his fingers brightly decorated. They were unique finger puppets, but they weren’t entirely unfamiliar to you. You leaned forward, eyes greedily studying the little protruding bumps and ridges.

“Oh, I used to own stuff like that, I know how they work.” You said.

He didn’t let this deflate him or take away from his presentation at all. “You know all about them, huh?” You nodded, still feeling some self-confidence. “But have you had someone use them on you?” You stopped nodding. “‘Cause that can really change the experience. Do you want me to demonstrate that?”

You weren’t intimidated, feeling like you weren’t entirely out of your depth yet allowed you to stay possessed by intrigue. “Uh-huh.”

The cuffs and the remaining contents of the bag were ignored for the moment. He came in close again and you were relieved to not have to wait for the next kiss. You shut your eyes and drew your desires purely from his mouth.

You could have gotten distracted by this, still learning the little techniques that his kisses possessed. But before you could fully forget about the accessories placed on his fingers, you were feeling the rubber toy stroking down your chest. It dragged across your skin differently to his bare touch and you were hotly anticipating where you might feel the other toy.

The second stimulator got your attention when he flicked it against one of your hardened nipples. You couldn’t help flinching, bringing laughter from him, even as he continued to kiss you. The sound was muffled by your mouths, dying out as you pictured that cocky grin on his face.

He began to trail his fingers (both covered and not) down one side of your body. This whisper of a touch left you with goosebumps. He moved his hand up-and-down, applying pressure with the toys in a kind of massage, the slow patterns were so attentive. At the same time his tongue was pushing into the small space between your lips, easing them further apart. The exploration of his tongue paired perfectly with the caresses of his hands, one on either side of your body now.

You squeezed your thighs together when you felt him firmly grab your hips, almost pinching. Then he rubbed and clenched his fingers, rubbed and clenched. You couldn’t help lifting your hips a little, keen to press more of yourself against him. His tongue kept playing against the roof of your mouth, encouraging you further.

“I like the way you’re squirming under me.” He said. “I can tell this good girl is enjoying herself already, hm?”

“Mm-hmm.” You responded.

His hands moved lower than your hips, the toys pushing against your skin. The movement held your focus. He went to your ass, holding it in his hands, fingers extending and massaging this area. It seemed to you that he was truly trying to learn your body, giving you the sense that this was so much more than a fleeting interest and you let yourself get more excited, writhing a bit more frequently now. 

When you opened your eyes it was to find him watching you, something of a smile still on his face as your reactions intrigued him. He noticed you looking and smiled a bit wider. His hands were now dragging up-and-down, going from the top of your butt to the tops of your thighs.

“I’m not used to having a knowledge advantage like this. You’re so clever, so quick, so tuned in, you always know more than me. Not in a cocky, or arrogant way- that’s never been you. But you’re a smart, smart girl, and maybe this is an area where I’m ‘smarter’, so I think I might savour how this feels.” He said. “Having all the control as I show you something new, surprise you a little.”

“That means you’re gonna stretch this teasing out, aren’t you?” You asked.

“Is that not what you want, baby?” He asked with a teasing grin now on his face.

“I need to work on my patience. And I just want to know if it will be worth it.” You said.

“Of course it will be worth it. If you can earn it: you’re going to get a big reward.” He said. “And I don’t really wanna rush something I’ve waited so long for.”

“Waited, what do you mean?” You asked.

“All of the times you’ve popped into my head and I’ve wondered if it would only work as a quick fantasy… what’s that expression, if I had a dollar for every time?”

“You would have a lot of dollars?” You offered.

“Precisely.” He said. “Naturally my smart girl knew what I was talking about straight away.”

You wondered if he would be able to give you a more specific amount of this metaphorical money - you made a note to hold this question for later.

For now you were just concentrating on kissing him, his mouth covering yours again. His expectations were present in your mind, but they couldn’t intimidate you, not while you were preoccupied by how right everything felt. One kiss melted into another, a perfectly correct rhythm.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your thigh, the fingers splayed out in a purposeful grasp. He began to ease your legs apart.

Your concentration instantly sharpened when his covered fingers got to the area typically covered by your panties. You wrapped an arm around his neck, needing a hint of steadiness. He rubbed and massaged at your pubic mound, the pressure enticing you. You noticed how much blood was pumping into this area - all before he had made any contact with your labia majora. He was warming your body up inch-by-inch and it was splendid.

You felt the want pooling in your cunt as he started to work over your labia. He took his time to caress these folds, the rubber fingers gliding over your pubic hairs. It was a nice increase of intimacy, keeping you on track of hoping for what his next move would feel like.

He broke the kiss and you saw how he was grinning, his tongue dragging over his top row of teeth. “Isn’t that so much fun, so much more fun than just playing on your own?” He asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

It seemed he wasn’t done with making you wait. Instead of going forward, he took his fingers away and it was only the cool air touching your pussy.

But you didn’t relax, expecting more and wanting to be prepared.

You kept your eyes shut for the moment. You weren’t motivated to open them until he spoke again and he had straightened up, some distance between your bodies as he returned his hands to the sack of supplies.

“So you’ve met this kind of toy before, how about this? How familiar are you with this?” He asked, showing you a larger object.

“Oh, a wand. Of course I’ve used one of those before.” You said.

His hand went back into the sack. “Alright, I’m gonna need something to help me surprise you, then.” He produced an eye mask, which bore the same star pattern you had seen on the handcuffs. “Do you want to veto this?”

“No, but, well, I mean, not veto, but…” His eyebrows raised as you stumbled over your words. “I’m not against the blindfold, but am I really not gonna get to see you? You get to see me totally naked, but I’m not gonna see anything?”

“Just for a little while…” He said and he wore a smile as he came closer with the eye mask. “God, you’re adorable when you’re pouting like that. Don’t worry, kitten, you will get to see me naked, I’m here to tease you, not subject you to cruel deprivation.” He eased the mask over the top of your head, not pulling it any lower than your eyebrows for now. “My plan is actually for you to get sick of the sight of me naked.”

You smiled at this obvious joke. “Why would that be your goal? That would take a whole lot of nakedness.”

“Exactly.” He said. “What’s your definitive verdict for the blindfold?”

“I’m okay with it. That's the same stars as the…”

“Uh-huh, it goes with the cuffs. Actually it’s from a four-piece set. It also came with this…” He left the mask not blocking any of your view, his focus going back to the bag. He pulled out a small, flexible-looking paddle. Its body was decorated with the same solid white stars.

Then he showed you another item, which carried on the star motif on its thick straps. These adjustable straps were short and attached to a modestly sized ball. You knew exactly where that solid sphere was supposed to go, and it truly intimidated you.

“A ball-gag?” You asked, wondering how you could stall for a little time.

“Yeah, we don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. Personally, it’s not my favourite. But I brought it along anyway because I’m here to explore your favourites, and we’re gonna do that without judgement, one hundred percent.”

“I don’t need it.” You said.

“Cool, let’s just…” He trailed off, stopping himself mid-gesture. “I was gonna throw this to the side, but I don’t want your boy to come along and think it’s a toy for him and get at it.”

“Iggy’s scared of everyone, you’re literally not gonna see him at all.” You said of your cat.

The ball-gag returned into the sack and you felt better for it. He opened the velcro of one of the handcuffs. You straightened your arm and he wrapped the band around your wrist, then pressed the two ends together. You were smiling as you offered your other wrist to him.

“I’m proud of you for using a veto.” He said as he got the second cuff secured.

“Oh, thanks.” You said, not entirely sure how to respond to this unexpected compliment. Was it sexy to him that you had said no? You supposed that one veto wasn’t going to place many limitations on him, the bag in his hand still heavy with possibilities.

He kissed you, his fingers brushing up against the sides of your face. You lifted your hands, the chain giving a little rattle to remind you of your restrictions as you extended your arms. You held onto his shirt as his tongue massaged against your lips.

You felt something soft pressing against the top of your face. When he eased away, you opened your eyes to only see the dark fabric of the eye mask. You continued to hold onto his shirt as you waited for his kiss. You knew that it would anchor you through the rushing emotions and uncertainty.

A new but quiet sound got your curiosity as soon as you heard it. This proceeded you feeling the vibrations of the massaging wand, its rounded head pushed into the soft area beneath your belly button. At the same time, he leaned his body into yours. You had the sense that he was close enough to kiss, but it didn’t come.

“Lay back.” He said.

You instantly leaned away, your body blindly seeking out the bed. “So stern. Yes, sir.”

His lips crashed against yours before you were laid out. He was setting a lustful pace, faster than before.

Your back reached the bed, with him lying on top of you. The pressure from his weight was wonderful, further adding to the concept that he was fully in charge.

You had stopped noticing the mechanical humming of the magic wand. But it was brought back to your attention when he applied the stimulating bulb to your pubic mound. Your heart launched into your throat and you were breathlessly trying to keep up with his rushed kisses.

“It’s better like this, hm? It’s less intimidating for you, right?” He asked in a low voice. “Because you’re not trying to read my expression, you aren’t worrying about where I’m looking. You don’t have to wear the blindfold for the whole night, but it’s got its advantages.”

“I’m seeing that.” You said before giving a giggle. “Well, not seeing in the literal sense, but you know what I mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re still maintaining that knowledge advantage.” You said.

“And loving every second of it.” He said. “Raise your hands up above your head.” It wasn’t a request. At the same time you were feeling the vibrating toy moving lower, in a drawn-out manner.

“Yes, sir.” You said, making this adjustment.

In the same second that you had finished speaking, he swiftly delivered the vibrator to your clitoral hood. This opened you up to an excitement greater than before and you couldn’t help squirming as his body kept you pinned down. The vibrations titillated you, awakening nerves, even at this low setting.

His lips going to one of your nipples brought a choked sob from your mouth. He began to suck and the intensity perfectly matched the vibrations, creating a fire in your gut. You saw stars, but these weren’t the same as what was printed on the fabric. These little stars were appearing and glowing prettily in your imagination.

He transferred to the other nipple and increased the toy’s pulsations. He kept it against your clit, set on this as the best location.

When he gradually moved his mouth down lower, he also took the sex toy to a lower spot. Now its smooth head nestled between where your puffy lips usually concealed your entrance. The pressure he utilised had you feeling the consistent vibrations in your labia minora, an intensity you needed more than a moment to adjust to.

The desire reached deeper into you, rocking you on a greater level as his lips massaged across your skin. You were amazed by how much effort he was putting into your experience, working so hard for your pleasure. His lips trailed onto your belly as he stepped the vibrations up to the next mode.

You felt his lips parting so he could flit his tongue on your skin from time-to-time. And as you rode the sensations higher, more sounds fell from your mouth. Containing them felt entirely beyond your control and your face coloured with more pink as he heard every honest reaction.

He adjusted how his weight rested, lying his body on your legs as he progressed to kissing beneath your waistline. Your hands went to the pillow, gripping it as a means of supporting yourself as you anticipated what might be next.

The surprise was more than you could fathom when your clit was encapsulated by unique vibrations. Your mouth opened but no words came out as your brain struggled to make sense of what you were experiencing. The massage on your clitoral hood existed independent of the work of the stimulating wand, which he was continuing to hold at your entrance. This didn’t deliver the moisture from his lips, and you could still feel those on your belly, anyway.

You didn’t know what created the sensation, but you did know that you liked it. You watched the unreal stars growing, completely blind to anything else as your mind focused on the present.

“There’s the surprise I wanted.” He said, the stimulants persisting at the two spots on your crotch.

“Oh, uh-huh.” You gasped as your back arched.

“And have I found a toy you aren’t familiar with?” He asked, his tone a little gloating.

“I think so.” You said, slowly adjusting to this unrelenting intensity.

You guessed that he was no longer within kissing range, now his voice seemed to be coming from a spot close to your hip. It wasn’t much of a leap to presume he was getting a close-up view of how your pussy was reacting to his treatment.

“This fun little tool is a clit sucker.” He said as the pulsations continued to engulf the hood.

“I definitely don’t need to use a veto for that.” You said.

He chuckled. “That’s good baby, that’s really good.”

He took the wand away from your pussy. You weren’t sure where it was relocated to, you just took the opportunity to concentrate fully on what was happening to your clitoral hood.

When the pulsations came in harder, you could only guess how much he had turned it up by. Were there more powerful levels he intended to use on you?

It didn’t feel the exact same as having a pair of lips sucking on your sensitive peak. But it felt wonderful in its own way, consistently getting you more excited, until your toes started to curl.

All of a sudden there was an external heat at your entrance, with him pressing a kiss onto your pussy lips. Your heart skipped a few beats and you awaited more.

It didn’t take long for him to initiate another kiss, then another - more-and-more until it felt like he was making out with your entrance. He sampled how your desires tasted with some swipes of his tongue. All the while he kept the active toy sucker on your clit.

His tongue began moving into you, prompting your thighs to quiver and shake. More noises began to swell up in your chest and you bit into your lower lip, feeling unwilling to fully share them. He lapped in deeper, and greedy (yet incoherent) whines came from you, barely muffled. You sucked on your lip as great chunks fell out of your composure.

“Hey, hang on…” He said once his lips were detached from your cunt. “No, no, no, don’t hurt that pretty lip.”

You stopped what you were doing before you had fully understood what he said. You lifted your head from the pillow, momentarily forgetting that the eye mask blocked your vision.

“That’s my lip to bite on, to suck, to play with- I’m gonna be the reason it’s swollen tomorrow, okay?” He said. You hoped that your continuing wiggling wouldn’t be perceived as you not listening (something worth punishment). You simply couldn’t hold yourself still, not while the sucking device was working its magic. You nodded your head to prove that you were paying attention, trying your best to behave.

“If you really need something to bite down on…”

“Not the ball-gag.” You said quickly.

“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of bringing it back.” He instantly reassured you. “Here, bite on this if you need to.”

Something flat nudged against your lip and you complied by opening your mouth. Your mouth was only partially filled. As you shut it, the confusion left you, he had given you the flexible paddle to set your teeth into. Or at least that was what you guessed it to be. You could comfortably close your lips around it, keeping it in place without his assistance.

“Is that good?” He asked and you gave him the only answer you could of nodding your head. “And what about this?”

He seemed to refocus on how he was holding the sucking device to your clit, bringing it closer so that you could feel its pulsations with complete consistency again. Appreciatively your hips bucked up, which made the toy’s power all the more apparent. The makeshift-gag muffled your whimper.

“Yeah, that’s good for you, huh?” He asked. “And this is probably even better.”

He turned the vibrations up and your jaw clenched, your teeth locking onto the paddle. You raised your bound hands up to your face as you felt yourself getting lost for the moment. The intensity was huge, making you feel like all of your senses were being overwhelmed. How could you grasp for even a shred of composure in your current state?

He parted the device from your clitoris and it felt like you could come back to yourself a little. The breaths you drew were shaky, but they were full.

Then his tongue returned to your cunt. This slower stimulation felt like exactly what you needed, with him lapping appreciatively at the moisture. You lowered your hands and stopped gritting your teeth against the paddle as you started to settle into this sensation.

He slowly dragged his tongue up to your clitoral hood. You blindly reached your hands out, placing them on his head with your fingers exploring the soft strands of hair. Your lungs filled with more (needed) air as he gently drew circles around your sensitive nub.

Before you could get too invested in this progression, the intensity sharply increased with the reintroduction of the sucking device. You gave a dramatic twitch beneath him.

The thrilling vibrations were taking you back to that place with no thoughts and limited control. The quivering in your thighs was soon accompanied by the thrusting of your hips. They moved according to their own rhythm, just trying to make use of all of this feverish excitement. It accelerated the effects of the device.

But you didn’t find the ideal pacing, because the device was taken away too soon. This void was filled by his mouth before too long. As he worked his tongue and lips on your clit, you decided that this felt better than the device - this was the sublime experience of having your clit sucked.

The toy couldn’t replicate this perfectly. But when he switched it back, you still found plenty to enjoy of how it treated your clitoral hood, keeping your mind blissfully blank. It was a solid consolation, you couldn’t deny how titillating its vibrations were.

He kept switching from one to the other, your clit consistently stimulated and the tingles this brought to your body only grew more pronounced. You gave in more with each switch, beginning to see each as your path to orgasm.

But he never quite let you get that high. You spat the paddle out of your mouth, letting him hear your noises louder, in the hopes this would persuade him to allow you to ride this excitement to its logical end.

You pumped your hips, patience wavering as you tried to match him, tried to find the essential synergy. Your hands in his hair curled into unthreatening fists, gripping as more of your desperation showcased itself.

“Sir…” You whimpered, hoping you had found the cheat code to make him give you exactly what you wanted.

He applied more pressure with his tongue as he repeatedly worked it up-and-down against your clitoral hood. In response you lifted your ass higher off the bed. Your pussy was brought flush to his face as he seemed focused on working your clit in this promising way. His hand grabbed your butt as you delivered thrust after thrust into his face. The stars in your eyes got even brighter as it began to feel like your body was floating. A powerful fire burnt in your gut, with involuntary sounds falling from your mouth (you were too enchanted to feel self-conscious over whether the sounds were to his liking or not).

Your next noise was a loud and mournful moan when he took his mouth off of you. You kept your hands in his hair, even as your arms shook. The seconds without feeling anything from him seemed to stretch out.

“Please, don’t stop.” You said as he kept you waiting.

“Oh, so you’re not a fan of edging?” He asked, his tone so casual.

“I can’t say that I am.” You said, squirming in your wet-thighed anticipation.

“But the noises you’re making are just so nice, so so sexy, can you really blame me for wanting to savour them? I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you like this.” He said.

You huffed, trying to find the winning approach as you pouted again. “But-but don’t you wanna know how I’ll sound when I come? Aren’t you curious about hearing that noise?”

He caressed your ass now, still not giving you what felt as essential as oxygen. “I suppose that’s the noise I really want to hear. But I didn’t know that you wanted to come.”

“Damiano.” You substituted the curse words populating your brain for his name.

“What?” He asked, playing at being oblivious. “How am I supposed to know what you want unless you tell me?”

“Is that what this is about, you’ve been waiting for me to say it?” You asked.

“Uh-huh. I wanna hear you say exactly what you want. I wanna hear your dirty talk.” He said.

You shifted your legs, feeling a seed of insecurity over the possibility of doing this wrong. You wanted to sound sexy for him - but did you know how?

“Don’t overthink it.” He told you, demonstrating a superior intuition of what you could be thinking thanks to how long he had known you. “Just say what you want, that’s all I’m looking for.”

“Well, I wanna… I wanna come.” You said, feeling like you were stating the absolute obvious.

His fingers caressed your butt and it was the only thing that you had to hold onto.

“Uh-huh, and who’s gonna make you come?” He asked.

“You. I want you to make me come.” You said, before rushing to add. “Please.”

“Good girl.” He said. “How do you want me to make you come?”

Fingers playing in his hair, you considered making a joke. You could poke fun at him by saying that it was more than dirty talk he was after: he was going to have you write an essay of how you wanted to achieve an orgasm before he actually made it happen.

You wet your lips as you let this half-baked idea go. You chose to not get distracted. “I want your lips and your tongue.”

“Want them to do what?” He prompted.

“Please, I want you to use them on my pussy to make me come.” You said, too impatient to feel embarrassed over saying something so explicit. “Please.”

This proved to be what he needed to hear. Without a further word, he returned his mouth to your pussy, satisfying the way you burnt to feel more.

He didn’t come at you with any of the toys (both known and not). Instead he was finding his own rhythm with just his mouth and you let out an appreciative moan. Your hands rested on the back of his head as you got drunk on how these wonderful sensations were building. He kept one of his hands on your ass, a secure hold that was matched by the way he gripped at the top of your thigh, maintaining the distance between your legs that he wanted.

He created something of a seal around your clitoral hood with his lips, then applied his tongue to it. He played with the peak, seeing how far he could push it and experimenting with your responses to different patterns. You could focus on every swirl, no stops or toys to interrupt the flow. It was simpler than before, but it was such an effective way of blowing your mind.

He moved his tongue up-and-down consistently, not letting his mouth slip even slightly. The pressure was fantastic and you capitalised on this by thrusting your hips, driving your pussy into his face again. Your hands gripped his hair, needing him to stay where he was.

It didn’t matter how hard or fast you grinded, his mouth never failed you. You felt your chest hollowing and it seemed that you became smaller, so easily dwarfed by the immense pleasure.

Your breaths were marked by little whimpers as the effort took more-and-more from you. But you knew it would be worth it, getting blinded by the imaginary stars.

He made a slurping sound as he worked to keep the moisture in his mouth. The suck that corresponded with this brought a tremendous quake through your core.

You were irrevocably overpowered, levitating off of the bed further than before. Your fingers gripped onto his hair as you began to greet that lovely edge.

“Yes.” You whined, feeling how good it was to let everything go. “Oh my God, yes.”

You began to come undone, getting lost entirely.

There was an unexpected spike, the pleasure hitting a new level when he reintroduced the wand vibrator. You felt the pulsations in your clitoris as your pussy enjoyed the climax.

It was a spectacular explosion, the aftershocks still racing through you even after the vibrator was taken away. You didn’t know how to pull yourself back together, but for now you didn’t care.

The brightness of the room came back to your attention before you had opened your eyes. He had pushed the eye mask out of the way, allowing the light to push against your eyelids. The corners of your lips started to lift into a smile.

“Feeling that extra merriment now?” He asked before his lips captured yours for a moment.

“So much.” You said. “The merriest ever.”

“But I haven’t finished showing you all the surprises in my sack.” He said.

“And you still haven’t taken that silly costume off.” You said.

“It’s part of my character and it’s effective.” He said in his own defence before he seemingly had a realisation. He sat back on his knees and reached for the bottom of the green shirt. “But I guess it has served its purpose.”

He discarded the shirt and you were finally given the luxury of your eyes exploring his torso with little to no shyness. You could study like you never had before, really fixating on the details. You could notice and be enticed by everything that you saw.

You were grateful when he didn’t hesitate to take his jeans down. But just watching wasn’t enough to satisfy the desires swirling through you.

You extended your arms out. But before your hands could reach the waistband of his briefs, he stopped you by grabbing the chain that connected your handcuffs. He gave you a stern, but not disapproving, look as he used the chain to direct your hands closer to your chest.

“You haven’t learnt how to be patient yet?” He asked and you instantly identified this as a challenge.

It wasn’t a challenge you could ignore. “I guess I haven’t fully grasped the concept.”

You saw his eyes flicker, but the movement that corresponded with it was too quick for you to see. Instead of seeing him pick up the paddle, you felt its return to the scene.

He slapped the flat object against the side of your thigh, instantly compelling you to ditch any further challenges. Your breath hitched as you felt your leg heat and sting. You were caught off-guard by this sensation, needing to pause to figure out your own reaction.

His eyes were on your face, he was holding the paddle up, his arm tensed as if to strike again. But he didn’t follow through. At first you were reminded of a video that was buffering.

Then you realised he was waiting for your consent. And you gave it. You licked your lips as you turned your hips a little, presenting him with more thigh, and even some butt, to spank. You kept your hands to yourself, lying on your chest in what seemed like a safe zone.

The next slap from the paddle surprised you less, now you knew how to register the feeling. You liked it, hoping your skin would glow pink in a way that would please him.

There were no words coming to mind because the seconds between each spank were filled by you trying to prepare for the next. Then when it came, your mind went totally blank. As the sting radiated out, you began the climb of anticipation again. Your body was filling with tension, growing more intense. But you held onto the faith that he would be able to resolve all of it.

Another satisfying slap filled the quiet in the room. You heard his heavy breathing as more heat filled into the raised side of your butt. You still weren’t feeling pain from the continuing spanks, it was a sharp sensation and each time it cut through absolutely everything else. Your enjoyment was only increasing.

He pulled his arm back and your eyes fluttered shut as you awaited the next strike. Instead, he spoke. “Do you feel like having another try at behaving correctly?” He placed the paddle against your ass, resting it against the curve. “Or would you rather be a naughty girl?” Your need to be cheeky had definitely dulled. “There’s something I really want to show you from my sack. But I’m not about to share it with a naughty girl.”

“I’ll be good.” You said. “I’ll be very good, sir.”

He smiled, starting to lean down. Before his mouth could meet yours, he gave you another slap from the paddle. You couldn’t help flinching but you loved how it felt, settling into the feeling as he kissed you again. You let out a little whimper, your hands going to his hot pectorals.

Before you could get too accustomed to how his bare skin felt on yours, he pulled away. He ditched the paddle as he stood up.

He brought a small, slim box out of the sack. He moved too quickly for you to properly gain all of the details from the box. The device that came from it wasn’t familiar. It was matte black, probably made of silicone. It had two thin prongs, which kind of resembled legs, coming together at a compact disc. You kept your eyes on it, willing clarity to come.

He set it down on the bed, beside your leg, then proceeded to get something new from the bag. This next thing was far more straight-forward - a box of condoms. He collected one of the packaged items before getting back to taking his pants off. As soon as they were lowered, he took his underwear down as well. There was no missing how keen he was - immediately the stiffness of his dick confirmed that you had succeeded in turning him on.

There was a portion of yourself that felt self-conscious for wanting his cock so much. But overwhelmingly, you felt excited. All of the lust that had been developing now had a place to land.

He started at the tip, covering it then unrolling the latex further. As you watched this motion, you thought about what it would be like to experience his dick for the first time purely through taste. It was an intriguing and enticing fantasy, it didn’t seem farfetched to assume he would greatly enjoy it too, continuing your seduction.

But then you realised he didn’t want you to have any thoughts at all. At once you tried to empty your mind.

When he picked the tong-esque item up, you noticed a second, detached disc, but he held this in the palm of his hand, downplaying any significance.

“Did I bring another surprise?” He asked.

“Yeah, I have no idea what that is. I might be able to guess what it does.”

“You can guess, if you wanna. Or I could tell you and explain it. Or I could show you.” He said, entertained even in this in-between moment.

“Show me, please sir.” The answer seemed so obvious to you.

He grinned as he climbed up, placing his knees on the bed. “I really like it when you call me that.”

“Then I guess I have no choice but to keep saying it.”

Remaining above you, he placed the new device on you, its legs reaching toward your mound. At first you felt only the faint hint of its weight and nothing else.

Then he pressed a button on the tiny remote in his hand, and the disc on your lower tummy silently began to vibrate. It wasn’t too intense straight away, but it was enough to make you smile. He dragged it closer to your cunt and you worked to not squirm in your anticipation. You looked from the strangely-shaped device to his face - naturally he was still smiling, as his eyes glittered.

“But what do these little legs do?” He asked the question that was on your mind.

He picked the toy up and showed you how the prongs could be repositioned, bending them with little to no resistance. He curved them to face opposite directions and you were doing a lot of thinking trying to figure out the advantages of this. Was it supposed to go inside of you? It looked too thin, but you guessed the capability to hit two different angles at once had a lot of potential.

“Uh-huh, and what’s the point of that?” He asked.

He answered by taking the toy down, towards his dick as he changed the bend in the legs again. He placed it over his length, the connecting disc at the top. He gave the legs another repositioning twist, one at a time wrapping them around his cock, close to the base. He got this adjustable cock ring how he wanted, the ends of the legs crossed over at his balls.

“That’s a great surprise.” You said, showing him that you were less confused.

“You like looking at it, wait until you feel it. Wait until this pad is vibrating against your clit while I’m fucking you so deep.” He said.

Your legs were already spread, it was hard to know how much longer you would be able to hold yourself back. “Show me, sir?”

This earned you the proximity that came with making out. You lifted your arms out of the way, passing the cuff’s chain over his head. You rested your hands at the base of his neck as his body pressed so perfectly on top of yours. You settled into one another, lips working together as the synergy kept strengthening.

With no hesitation, you moved deeper into the lust. Your thighs clung to his hips as his tongue tasted and played with your bottom lip. Your tensed body wanted to melt for him more than anything.

He sucked on your lip as he started to sink down into you, accepted by your thoroughly-primed pussy. You identified this as the best sensation of the night, instantly superior to the toys, and definitely worth waiting for. Your fingers curled, grasping for his hair as you stretched to accommodate him further.

His body settled on top of you, fitting in between your legs. This closeness brought even more excitement - you already knew that he would be able to take you to another stunning peak. He had more energy to give to your pleasure.

Rather than seeking the greatest penetration at once, he gave you time to adjust. He was going to build to the moment of overwhelming you. For now he tested his range of movement, pumping his hips so you could feel the potential of what he could do with his shaft.

Gradually he worked himself deeper. You couldn’t help imposing little breaks between kisses as the pressure increased inside of you. 

It wasn’t long before you gave up from trying to keep up with his mouth altogether, a parting suck applied to your lip before you leaned your head slightly back. You decided to give your attention to moving your hips, attempting to match his affectionate pace.

Before you could truly sync yourself to him, the vibrating toy collided with you, surprising you momentarily beyond comprehension. Your hips dramatically jutted up as your mind slowly began to catch up. You shook as you adjusted to this new intensity.

It seemed your vulnerability was clear because he paused to ask. “Are you okay, bella? Is it too much?”

You arched your back to press into him, smiling. “Oh, it’s good. It’s really fucking good.”

“You don’t need your safe word?” He asked, still not moving.

“Absolutely not.” You said.

You opened your eyes and lifted your head in the pursuit of capturing his lips in a kiss. It didn't matter how short on breath you were feeling, you prioritised cultivating your connection with these excited kisses.

You also drove your hips forward, craving the beginnings of friction. He stopped hesitating and grabbed your butt as he gave you a push, moving in deeper. You couldn’t help whimpering as he delivered another thrust.

He swiftly and confidently took the lead - it made you want to call him sir repeatedly.

With each pump from him, you had begun to feel the silicone legs of the toy wrapped around his dick. You felt the smooth material rubbing against your pussy, but you had yet to register the vibrations (not that you felt you needed it).

You rested your head in the curve of his neck, unable to keep up with his kisses. But you were managing to stay with the pacing of his hips. You met every strike, lengthening each motion and giving you even more to enjoy. His energy was matching and coming together with yours as it had so many times over the past two years - but in a brand new way, more intense than you would have associated with him.

This was the most important mutual goal you had ever worked toward with him. You stuck with him, even as the threat of getting overwhelmed crept in again.

As everything wanted to shatter around you, he remained your constant. Listening to his raspy breaths kept you from getting entirely lost. Your short nails pressed into his skin and your nostrils were filled with the enticing scent of his sweat mixed with cologne. You didn’t care about anything beyond his body.

The tender massage between your inner-walls got even deeper, touching at a depth his tongue hadn’t reached. It brought the stars back to your shut eyes, but they were so much bigger and brighter now.

“Fuck.” You exclaimed in response to feeling the vibrations on your clit again.

Your gut clenched as you rode this sensation higher. He let you enjoy this stimulation, not rocking back according to the earlier pacing. Your cunt fluttered and spasmed around him. This prompted some cuss words from him too.

He writhed against you, barely pulling his hips away. Instead he completed some quasi-thrusts, seeing what else could be gained from this closeness. 

When he returned to full motion, it was absolutely electric. The quick touches of the vibrator to your clitoral hood were enough to keep you reeling.

The perfect synergy of your bodies soon brought you back to the edge. Little ecstatic cries began to fall from your lips.

“Yes, uh yes, yes-yes.” You stammered as you failed to meet more than a few of his bucks.

He kissed across your forehead, something so affectionate was in direct contrast with the frantic rhythm of his body. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Hearing that wholesome phrase was so unexpected that it felt out of place and you couldn’t help but laugh. This noise transformed quickly into an audibly strangled breath as he plunged all the way in again.

There was no composure left for you to regain. Even as he adopted slow and shorter strokes, you were helplessly overstimulated.

He put his hands to your sides, a determined hold. He kept his hips pressed against yours as he grinded into you repeatedly. The vibrator was directly on your clit, the pulsations were ready to devastate you.

“It feels like you’re ready to come.” He said. “Are you?”

The prospect of him edging you again occurred to you, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist before you answered. (You didn’t know how you would cope if he put you through more of that.) “Yes, yes sir, I am.”

He spared you any further teasing, he didn’t retract. He stayed close, quickly snapping his hips. He whimpered as he kept working his tip on your sensitive walls.

You held him tighter (your cunt clenching too), giving yourself up to the pressure that just kept rising. Your hips stuttered at their own tempo, there was no rhyme or reason to it, simply moving to express some of your excitement. He didn’t correct this behaviour, letting you continue as everything began to come together.

Your gut tightened and you had to bite your lip to stop the loudest noises from getting free. He moaned your name over the consistent sound of your skin slapping together.

“Oh, fuck. I think I’m…” His pitch changed and you noticed how he had begun to be plagued by tremors. “Yeah, I’m gonna come, like right now.”

You were holding onto his taut shoulders as you opened your eyes. As he remained in motion, you saw the look of concentration on his face. Instantly you were enthralled by the idea of seeing him become complete, as you were on the threshold of.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Yeah. Oh yes, yes, yes.” He said, his eyes squeezed shut as he kept rubbing into that deepest part of you. “Yes, yes, fuckin’ yes.”

You wanted to watch him driving to that point of perfection. But the relentless pulsing against your clitoris was stealing your focus, insisting that you fall apart. The fluttering of your eyelids became harder to fight against.

There was a powerful moan that was swelling in your throat as he suddenly became rigid. He pressed against you firmly, loudly trying and failing to catch his breath. You felt how he shivered on top of you, demonstrating less control than any other point of the night.

The pressure caused by having him so close (and deep), with the vibrating disc still on your clitoris, was enough to take you over the edge. Your pussy clenched around his shaft as the orgasm dawned throughout your entire body. Biting your lip wasn’t enough to stifle the cries that your revelation brought out. You were stunned on every possible level.

Even once the vibrator’s massage was over, and he had pulled out, you still felt like you were on the verge of breaking apart again. Moving was beyond your capabilities right now and you thought it would be easier to fall asleep than recover.

“Oh my God.” You gasped when upon opening your eyes, your vision filled with him. The reality of this situation was beginning to settle in, things were clearer now.

“You alright?” He asked as he moved closer to free your wrists from the restraints.

“Uh-huh, I don’t feel like I need to say Grinch, still.” You said.

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you, but you really did pick the dorkiest possible safe word.” He said, wearing a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes and pulled up the top of the blanket. “It suits you, then.” This earned you a laugh from him. Before you could slip into the old and familiar teasing, you stayed tapped into this vulnerability. “You’re gonna stay, right?”

He smiled as he finished removing the cuffs, then he swept in to kiss you. “Of course, I would love nothing more than to stay with you, bella.”

As his fingers caressed your cheeks, you kissed him. This led to another, then another, at a slower pace than before because you knew you didn’t need to rush. This was an affectionate yet lazy continuation of your intimacy.

It didn’t develop into anything more, he simply laid down with you. You wrapped your arms around him, the two of you sharing looks that lingered longer than what you would have classified as normal.

You didn’t need to ask him to move his limbs, he hadn’t positioned himself in a way that had brought you any discomfort. You liked the way his arms fit around your waist. You didn’t need to put any of your clothes back on, this embrace had you feeling warm enough.

He broke the silence, speaking softly and at the sound of that you didn’t feel like you needed to prepare any witty retorts. “Thank you for trusting me. This was one of the biggest gambles of my life, and I feel lucky that you were willing to go along with it.”

“I’m glad I could maintain my unbroken streak of always going along with your ideas.” You said, able to see the smile he wore even in the limited lighting. “You mean the world to me, I’m always gonna trust you.”

Maybe more could have been said - there wasn’t a finite amount of emotions to be told. But the silence didn’t bother you. You didn’t feel obligated to speak: to win him over or otherwise make this moment. You were so content, running your fingers through his hair until sleep arrived.

*** *** ***

You began hearing a consistent tinkling, fun and non-abrasive, but persistent enough to keep you from falling asleep again. You didn’t open your eyes, trying to determine the source without seeing it. You were floating in the daze of not yet awake, the world covered by a kind of fuzziness. You rolled onto your side, yet to realise that Damiano was missing from your bed.

Your thoughts were clearing up as you continued to listen to the jingling. As you readjusted the warm blanket over your bare form, you recognised this gentle, non-rhythmic music. You had heard it very recently, even though it wasn’t a regular fixture in your home.

It was the silly bell from the elf hat. You were certain of this, opening your eyes at once. You lifted your head from the pillow, too curious to resist now. You looked around, trying to gain as much information from the room as possible.

You found Damiano was sitting on the carpet and he had the novelty hat in hand, jostling the fabric so that the bell would dance in the air. It was shaking and bobbing directly in front of your cat.

Seeing Iggy was the last thing you needed to drag yourself fully out of sleep. You hadn’t expected to see this, but he looked completely at ease. In the two years that you had owned him, he had never played with anyone but you. In all of his visits to your home, Damiano had only managed to briefly pet the cat, with Iggy always maintaining his strict disinterest in outsiders.

But now he was playing, seemingly totally invested. He sat so close to Damiano’s legs, those predatory eyes fixed on the silver bell. Damiano swung it close to Iggy and he picked up both of his front feet to swipe at it. The whole time, Damiano was beaming, so clearly enjoying this brand new experience.

“I don’t believe it…” You said, keeping your voice low to avoid startling your cat.

Damiano kept the hat in motion as he looked at you. “Crazy, huh? I guess he finally decided that I’m not his enemy. I didn’t even need to use any catnip to bribe him into this.”

“It’s a legitimate Christmas miracle.” You said. Reflecting back on how Iggy had shunned the attention of all of your past partners, this didn’t seem like an exaggeration to say.

“I know, right?” He said. “He was sitting there looking at it on the ground when I woke up. And I thought he would run away as soon as I got out of bed.” His words were accompanied by the music of the bell, which you were coming to enjoy more. “But…”

His face fell when Iggy began to walk away, unhurriedly going to the opened door. “Oh, now he’s leaving.” Iggy didn’t look back, disappearing without a sound. “He’s done with me, I guess.”

“Bye, sweetie.” You called after your pet.

“Damn, I miss him already.” He said sadly.

You couldn’t stop smiling. “He hates everyone.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m better than those other nobodies. That’s just how it is.”

You giggled. “You’re still naked.”

He got up on his knees, walking his way toward the bed in this fashion. “So are you. We’re just hanging out, naked.”

“I like it.” You said, sitting up higher as he got closer to you.

“Yeah, me too.” He said.

He reached the side of the bed, just slightly beneath eye-level. He leaned in, his eyes going to your lips as you put your hands on either side of his face. You kissed him, slowly, enjoying this indulgence just as you had last night.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, keeping his face close to yours.

“I’m good.”

“Yeah? You haven’t got any sore spots that I need to kiss better?” He asked.

You pushed one of your hands up the nape of his neck, into his hair. “Nuh-uh, no spore spots, no regrets.”

“That’s fantastic, babe.” He said before moving in for more kisses.

You managed to drag your tongue along the line where his lips met, before he eased back. You were left with building cravings.

“I’ve been awake for a little while, and I’ve had time to check Santa’s sack. It appears that there’s still something in there for you, one more thing.” He said.

“Oh, but it’s too early to be calling me a naughty girl. At least, I think it’s too early.” You realised that you hadn’t seen any form of clock, or even glanced at the window.

“This isn’t something for a naughty girl.” He said. “This is a gift.”

“Well in that case: gimme!” You said enthusiastically.

He laughed as he got up, going over to where the sack had been sitting overnight. He picked out an item that was wrapped in festive paper. You smiled, ready to love it, even with no inclination of what it might be. He handed it to you, taking a seat at the edge of the bed with you.

“I hope you like it.” He said as you started tearing away the wrapping.

“I have no doubt that it’s going to be amazing.”

Beneath the paper, you found a sleeve of protective bubble wrap. In here was your gift, a rectangular photo frame. You recognised the series of small photos from a photo booth at the cinema you usually visited. The five photos showed you and Damiano, side-by-side, making various faces for the different photos. You hadn’t seen these photos for two years, you had no idea he still had them.

“Oh wow, this is from forever ago.” You said, seeing how happy the two of you appeared.

“Yeah, do you remember this? It’s from when you dragged me to that midnight screening.” He said.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by how he was attempting to rewrite history. “I just said that I wondered what those were like, how the vibes were. And you said you would try it with me for Endgame’s premiere. There was no dragging involved.” You jabbed your pointer finger into the air before he had a chance to cut you off. “And it definitely wasn’t my fault that you fell asleep less than halfway through the movie.”

“I had been touring for months. It’s a miracle that I didn’t fall asleep while we were taking these photos.” He said. “I thought you might like to have these, like a time capsule of us being nerdy together.”

“I love it. I’m gonna put it somewhere that I’ll see it every day.” You said. “Just looking at it, it’s like I can feel how much fun we had that night… before you fell asleep.”

He eased your unruly hair back from your face. “You are really cute when you’re telling me that I’m wrong, did you know that?”

There was the beginning of a blush in your cheeks as you looked at him. “I know now.”

With a smile, you closed the distance between your bodies with a kiss. His arm slipped around you. You didn’t feel like you had sacrificed any of the significance of the friendship showcased in these old photos. Nothing needed to be lost on the path to this new level.

“If you check under my tree, you’ll find there’s a gift for you there.” You told him.

He grinned. “Really? You always get me the best gifts.”

“Why don’t you go get it?” You asked.

“I was thinking that I would open it later.” He said. “Like when I’m opening other presents with my family. And maybe you could be there too?”

“You want me to spend Christmas with your family?” You asked, thoroughly surprised.

“Don’t you think that would be better than spending the day alone? There’s no racist or otherwise weird uncles to ruin the vibe. My dad is a really great cook. And I’ll drive. And I don’t have to introduce you as anything more than my best friend if it feels too early for that.” He said.

Your heart had started fluttering as you listened to him. Now you picked up one of his hands, squeezing it as you found another of his appealing ideas to go along with. “What time do we need to leave?”

»»————-　♡　————-««  

🍑  taglist: @floral-recs - @gr8rainbowpunk -   @idyllicbutterfly - @maneskindiva - @maneslut - @saschenkaaa   -   @slavicgoddess13 - @elvirabelle - @maneskintifoso    - @thegeminisgirl    - @ha-la-ansia - @butkutee   - @ursulalurks - @itsmaneskinbitch -   @icarodamiano -   @crwnnjules - @paralianeyes - @fand0mskullfa1ry -   @lizzylynch1 - @kammerstx - @myleftsock - @tellmesomething01   -    @adoredamianos - @vittoriaisfuckingpathetic - @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis - @shinshans - @lonnybunnys - @lyricalliz - @lifeofa-fangirl [join here!]

#more friends references than you can poke a stick at!!! #an xmas fic in may? sue me #damiano david x you #damiano x reader #damiano david x reader #maneskin fic #maneskin x reader #maneskin smut #maneskin fanfiction

[androideql]

I've been busy making OCs and learning how to draw better. And I've also been finishing some previously abandoned sewing projects. Kinda forgot tumblr existed tbh

#android talking #yes i have ocs now #havent drawn them yet #mand i wish i was good at art #im getting good at colour but my ability to make a decent sketch has suffered tremendously #maybe i need more gesture practise or something #a proportions review #idk

[simpingland]

Hi hello how are ya I'd like to request something

Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co star (fem pronounce) where they're at an interview and goofing off, reader joking about getting sleep while they're putting on wigs for hours and stuff like that, maybe a little more serious talk about their characters

(Readers character is jaces twin and aemonds love interest)

Thank you!

Flirting and sleeping// Ewan Michael x fem!actress.

Summary: playing Aemond's love interest have the perks of giving you a flirty partner during promotion and a comfortable shoulder to sleep on set.

Gif not mine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last interview of the day, after a whole week of promotion. Always the same questions, always the same answers. Keeping your outfit spotless for a whole day, with your make-up intact and hours of sleep accumulated.

"How is it possible that you are always sleepy?" Your colleague Ewan asked you when he saw you yawning.

"I'm a very reflective person, the night inspires me" you joked, and watched as he shook his head, smiling.

"These things feel like an eternity," he complained.

You were about to agree with him when the new interviewer sat down opposite. She greeted you, and Ewan, as always, was a gentleman, serious and attentive.

You, however, found it hard to pay as much attention. You glanced sideways at Ewan's every gesture, and he seemed to make a great effort to listen. After all this time you had learned to read his expression of feigned listening as well as his real one.

"After so many serious scenes, I suppose you keep your spirits up between scenes...are you bored on set or are you too busy?" The girl looked at the two of you.

"I tend to stay focused. Getting into Aemond's mind is quite complicated..." Ewan's tone amused you. He turned to look at you. "What?"

You let out a laugh, the interviewer looking confused at the scene.

"Sorry honey," you turned to the girl, "but Ewan is lying to you. He was concentrating at the beginning, when he took his job very seriously."

You watched as Ewan leaned back in his chair, hiding a smile and waiting for you to tease him, which he quite enjoyed.

"This guy was scary on the first day."

"It's thanks to the costume and make-up team," he interrupted.

"Oh, no, Ewan, I mean the day of the script reading. That sweatshirt was terrifying." What you said made the interviewer laugh, and Ewan joined in the fake discussion you had formed.

"You speak out of envy," he replied, crossing his legs.

"For this kind of thing, he's very formal. They always put together nice outfits for him, but in real life, it's nothing like that. "

"And what's Ewan like in real life?" Ewan himself asked.

"He's weird... weird and kind of flirty."

He turned red, shaking his head as the interviewer let you speak. You were basically getting more information out for her than she intended to get.

"Yeah, yeah...there's nothing shy about this guy here. He makes all the girls on the set smile with his 'good morning, love'. And they all love to put him his wig in the morning, his patch..."

"Why don't you let the girl do the interview?" Your partner interrupted you with mock seriousness.

"Excuse me, but I'm answering the question. Ewan was very focused at first. No one dared speak to him once he put on that wonderful costume. But as soon as Susan in make-up told him he looked 'sexy'..." you snapped your fingers. "He became a sex symbol on set and enjoys it like nobody's business. He doesn't get bored on set because he spends the hours between scenes practising with his sword, chatting with the crew when he goes to get his coffee..."

"You should tell her how you spend your breaks..." he grinned mischievously. You looked at him, hiding a smile. You mostly spent them with him, but people didn't need to know that.

"You tell her."

"She spends her dead hours asleep or breaking things." The interviewer let out another laugh. "Oh, yes, she's snored through her make-up. I've had to put up with her nodding her head every morning. And the few times she was awake, she would steal my wig to take pictures. Remember what Susan said to you when she caught you?" she looked at you as if to scold you, and you looked ashamed.

"That I was going to mess it up..."

"Exactly! This girl is a mess on legs. The first day of shooting, she tore the fabric of her cape. The first day we shot together, she almost broke the carriage window... and the wine glass. Let's not forget the wine glass on the last day."

"I dented it," you confessed to the girl.

"The whole team was praying you'd fall asleep before you touched any more stuff." Continued your partner looking back at you.

"I've had the broken stuff deducted from my pay, you know."

"Yeah? And how much money have you earned then?"

"Let's just say...I've gone into debt to HBO..."

You laughed at your own joke as Ewan tried to refocus on the poor interviewer. You really had been the clumsiest person on set, and that was in stark contrast to the careful attitude Ewan had had in that same period. Many times, you had led him astray, getting him involved in a game where you both could let off steam while the sets were being set up. He loved to show you his swordsmanship, and of course, he was good at it. He had experience.

But on some other days, when it was anynof your turns to act, Ewan was much more focused, and although you were embarrassed to entertain him at first, he always made a point of sitting next to you. He helped you revise as much as you helped him. And while your gallery was filled with pictures of you making an idiot of yourself with his wig, and Ewan making an idiot of himself with his wig too, Ewan had his gallery filled with pictures of you asleep in the most unlikely places on the set, and pictures of you posing with whatever mess you had made. And Tom had been in charge of recording those occasions when you slept leaning on Ewan's shoulder while he reread his script. That would stay between you two, and you'd been going through the photos before bed for months, unaware that Ewan was doing exactly the same thing, grateful to have an excuse like promotion to be near you all the time.

"The relationship between your characters has been a much-discussed topic on the network and among fans. The girl changed the subject to a more serious one, to the one that really mattered, the series.

"You mean incest?" you asked.

"More like the feud between Blacks and Greens."

"Oh, right..."

"That's the thing with this series," Ewan interrupted. "The incest is the least of your worries."

"Right, silly me," you said wryly.

"It's common sense, of course."

You smiled at each other, admiring each other fondly, perhaps too fondly, as you always did, leaving the girl a bit of an outsider, and were surprised when she asked again.

"The good thing is that you don't look like each other. The relationship you have in the plot is a parallel to Romeo and Juliet. How do you approach this dynamic? Do you want it to be really romantic or something toxic like Rhaenyra and Daemon?"

"That I suppose can always be left to the audience's opinion," reasoned your partner. "For me there's certainly something romantic about it. Aemond is a character that transforms into something perverse but at the beginning he didn't seem to have such a strong quality. The writers wanted to make him that way, evolved. And I think her character is designed not to contrast but to show that there is something good in Aemond." You smiled downward as you listened to him, you had already talked about it during rehearsals. "When we did the casting, the director told me that they were looking for an actress with a sweet aura, well, so that ond couldn't naturally react violently towards her. They introduced me to this arse next to me and... you get a bit attached to her.

"I love working with Ewan, he's always so flattering..."

The girl smiled at you before asking.

"You're okay with the romance?"

"Well..." you thought for a second. Of course, the kiss you two had just rolled around was too passionate for it to be a toxic relationship. You shot the kiss as a very intimate scene, where Aemond approached your character with some fear, and it took you a moment to return the kiss. It was a slow kiss, tense and sweet. But when you return it, it was hard to separate again. Of course, what was left to shoot that day was done with flushed cheeks and dodging glances. Sparks had been flying between you and Ewan since the day you were brought together in that room for the test.

"Yes, I think it's different from Rhaenyra and Daemon. There's a lot more respect and a lot more equality between them. From the very beginning, we were going to treat our plot from the 'first love' trope, and we saw no better way to recite our lines than the longing and desire they have for each other. And how much Ewan and I love each other transcends the screen too much."

You saw how intensely he looked at you, maybe you had said too much. You were silent for too many seconds. You put on that mischievous grin again. "As much as Ewan is a great actor, I don't think anyone can pretend to hate me."

"Wow, that means the next season is going to be very promising for your fans. Thank you so much for this time, and for the tidbits from the set."

"It's been a pleasure, honey," you dismissed her.

"Our pleasure, I love your t-shirt, by the way," said Ewan, the girl was wearing a t-shirt with a poster of Daemon and Aemond on it.

You didn't know how to look at him after that. Had your answer been something of a confession? Maybe the kiss hadn't been that intense for him and you had just made a fool of yourself. Of course it was a bit weird the last ten minutes of your promo day.

You shared a taxi to the hotel, with silly small talk. When you arrived, you were walking up a flight of stairs when your heel broke.

"Oh my God, I can't believe it! My stylist is going to kill me!" You picked up your precious heels, Ewan didn't laugh at you, but he did smile at your desperation.

"Don't worry, we'll ask someone to get us some glue."

"A branded heel fixed with glue?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't made of steel, if it breaks easy it's easy to fix."

You walked all the way up the stairs barefoot. Ewan stopped.

"What are you doing?" You asked as you saw him stand back and pull out his mobile phone.

"Smile and show that heel," he asked. When you did he took the picture and smiled to himself. "For the collection. "

"Thanks to your tip-off they won't get me for period films, you know."

"You started it, I remind you. You've taken away my reputation as a serious, up-and-coming actor."

Ewan grabbed your heels from your hand as he saw you with your hands full with your mobile and wallet.

"The truth is, that poor girl was trying to be professional and we got into a play fight in front of her."

"I think she had fun. Of course, after always answering the same thing, this time I remembered why I like this job so much."

"I hope I didn't offend you, Ewan. You know it was all a joke."

You stopped at his door, yours was just opposite.

"All of it, all of it?"

"What do you mean?"

He licked his lips, thinking about how to phrase the question. You knew what he meant, now came the awkward part. Why the hell did you start talking about love?

"All the weeks since I've known you have been filled with something...special. And you were right when you said that I can't pretend to be repulsed by you, because... I definitely feel the opposite. I like every minute that you are beside me, not only for how talented you are but...how sweet and funny everything is with you. You're also quite gorgeous if I am allawed to say. And no, it's nothing of a method actor if I tell you that I have a crush on your bones just because Aemond would be... I want to make sure this feeling isn't just mine."

"You're telling me you like me?"

"Yeah, basically yes."

"And you're asking me if I like you?" You were clearly in shock.

"It's good to know you understand me...now I need an answer."

Yes, OF COURSE YOU DO. For some reason nothing came out of your mouth, and you could only look at him. Ewan read that silence as a definitive no and, after swallowing his breath, he nodded and gave up without losing his gallantry.

"I'm going to call room service and have them bring some glue."

He turned to open his door as you suddenly became aware of everything. You didn't know what he was babbling about when he opened it, but when he turned again to offer you passage, you jumped on him. You grabbed his face with impetus, and kissed his thin lips again as you had that day on the set. This time there was something even more authentic. Ewan held your waist as he regained his balance. This kiss surpassed the one in the scene, this one felt completely free, completely real and without consequence. Needless to say, you didn't go back to sleep in your room for the rest of the promo tour.

#house of the dragon fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd

[earthtooz]

. . . LOVE ME HARDER !

in which: it's been two weeks. you have a resignation letter in hand and a grumpy itoshi sae who is not at all pleased at your decision.

˗ˏˋ masterlist series: first part | next part ´ˎ˗

collab series ft. sixosix earthtooz aanobrain . . . !

warnings: gn!manager!reader, pining, reader and sae r in their 20s, tension, so much pining, unedited towards the end but that's bc i have no time AHH.

"are you sure?"

you stare sadly at the two weeks resignation letters in your boss’ hand, blinking once, then twice as a heavy feeling of regret sinks in your chest, further powered by the jumbled thoughts in your brain, screaming at you to say both ‘yes’ and ‘no’. with an exhale, you listen to your heart and nod your head decisively.

“i’m sure,” you affirm. sae’s face flashes briefly in your mind and you cringe internally at the look of betrayal you can see so clearly. still, you grit your teeth and don’t back out.

“we can give you a raise or extra company benefits if that’s more motivation to stay?” instinctively, a materialistic part of you is ready to give in to the offers, but the rational part of you begs otherwise. “we haven’t had a worker like you who has been able to cooperate with sae this well.”

“thank you for the opportunity, sir, but i think it’s time to move on.”

your boss gives you a pointed look before putting down your papers with a sigh. “if that’s the case then i can’t stop you. you were a good asset, y/n, good luck with your future endeavours.”

with a thank you, you make your way out of the office, a heavy dread settling in your chest as you think about how sae would take this news. how would you tell him? you’re not that heartless that you’d just leave without letting him know but what would you say? ‘hey these are my last two weeks as your manager, lol’.

“you’re late,” a voice interrupts your thoughts and you snap back into reality, greeted with the face of itoshi sae, his usual apathy masking the subtle displeasure you can hear in his tone. you ignore the way your heart jumps simply at the sight of him. 

maybe putting in those resignation forms was for the best.

“sorry. had to speak to management,” you mutter out. 

the magenta-haired athlete narrows his eyes in suspicion but before he could ask you another question, you sit down in front of him and open up your diary with the schedule for the day. “okay. let’s see what needs to get done today.”

you ignore the way sae stares at you like he has something to say and you hope he’s not observant enough to see that you’re avoiding looking him in the eye as much as possible because you’d know your heart would give out from the pressure. 

two weeks. two more weeks and you’ll escape itoshi sae forever, no matter how much you don’t want to.

***

you’re on the sidelines where sae is practising, furiously typing out an email on your laptop when your name gets called out, the voice coming from the entranceway of the field. it’s your boss but there’s a man of average height right behind him, dressed smartly with glasses and equipment fit for an office worker. 

he must be sae’s new manager after you’re gone. bless him.

straightening up, you close the lid of your laptop before setting it aside, getting up to greet him with a small hop in your step. you ignore the way sae has stopped practising at the entrance of someone new. feeling of his inquisitive gaze burning into your every move lingers as you approach the visitors. 

“y/n, this is girolan dabadie, he’ll be sae’s manager after you leave,” your boss states, gesturing to the man behind who gives you a humble wave, paired with a friendly smile. oh poor soul. you can tell he does not have the guts to work with sae.

then again, not a lot of people do. you included, which is why you’re resigning.

“hi, i’m y/n, pleasure to meet you.”

“pleasure to meet you too,” he says.

“we just thought it’d be nice for girolan here to get prepared with the ropes of his role before being thrown in the deep end next week.”

“of course, i’ll be more than happy to get you started, it is a tough job after all,” you say lightheartedly despite the last part being a sugarcoating of how truly draining it is to be sae’s manager.

and, speaking of the devil, you don’t like the way your gut churns, turbulent waves settling in your stomach in a way that makes you feel funny when you look sae in the eye. he’s staring at you so very intensely that if you hadn’t looked away immediately after, you suspect you would have combusted on the spot. there are questions that he wants answer to and judging by the glimpse of betrayal in his eyes, you can tell that it is not going to be a conversation you’ll like having. 

for now, you grit your teeth and put on a professional front. this is why you were leaving, because sae looks at you too casually, too much, and you, similarly, know him too much, too casually. 

leaving the training field, you can’t help but feel like you’re also leaving something meaningful behind.

“everyday you need to have the player’s schedules. most of them have promotions which you need to manage, so for example, sae has a shoot for adidas abibas next week. all you have to do is go to the shoot with him and foresee everything, the set managers there have that all under control, the only thing you need to control is itoshi sae himself,” you tell girolan halfway into the tour, now in your office space where you had schedules hung up everywhere. “these cabinet files are full of contracts, tax files, cash flows, all of the stuff that i have no doubt you’re familiar with.” 

“all of these just for itoshi sae?” girolan asks, looking at the stacks of paper on your desk. 

you sigh, slumping. “that’s what happens when you manage one of the most in-demand soccer players. don’t tell anyone but, it’s easier to manage the whole team than sae himself.”

eventually, the tour continues and you lead him through the rest of the spaces that he should know by heart. when you think you’re done with the introduction, it’s around 4:30, and you see girolan out to the main entrance. 

“any questions? you can have my contact so that if you have any queries or concerns, you can reach out to me over the week,” you say, handing the new manager your card.

“i appreciate the crash course today, but admittedly i’m still a little nervous,” girolan confesses, “i mean, i saw first hand just how busy you are… any personal advice for the job?”

“just… good luck. it’s a handful but it’s a good experience nevertheless. at the end of the day, i’m more grateful for this role than i am not.” 

“if that’s the case, why are you leaving?”

you widen your eyes, unprepared for that question. girolan catches on to your shock and immediately begins to apologise, afraid that he’s overstepped. “no, no, it’s okay, it’s a valid question. i’m leaving for personal reasons, ones that i can’t really go into.”

“i see.” 

after that, you briefly say goodbye to one another, exchanging pleasantries before he leaves the building. you sigh in relief, looking down at your watch to see that you only had 20 minutes now to catch up on the outstanding work you left behind, an incredibly unrealistic time limit. you can already tell you’re going to work overtime tonight.

before you can dwell too much on that fact, a voice pops up from behind you.

“personal reasons?”

you turn around to see sae leaning against a wall behind you, completely unimpressed and disappointed. you hate it when he looks at you like that.

“yes, sae, for personal reasons,” you mutter, hardening your defences before walking past him. that doesn’t shake him off though, nothing ever does.

“and what personal reasons could that be?” he asks, not batting an eye to being waved off by you like that.

you walk a little faster. “they are personal reasons, sae, meaning that they’re none i should ever tell you.”

pushing open the door to your office with more force required, you don’t see the way sae flinches slightly at your outburst, furrowing his brows at how uncharacteristic you were acting. he doesn’t shy away though, following you into your office. you continue sorting through papers like he’s not there and that irks him even more.

“but how could you not tell me? i thought you resigning would be an important topic to bring up sooner rather than later.”

“i didn’t think you’d care.”

“so?” he spits. “i would rather you tell me than me finding out myself by seeing some random who is apparently my new manager.”

you cringe at his words. “okay well, i’m resigning as your manager. happy? be nice to girolan.”

sae groans. “were you just going to let me find out by myself in a week if today hadn’t happened? were you ever going to tell me?”

you shrug, punching some holes through some papers before adding them to an (already filled) binder. “maybe.” 

sae grabs your wrist and you jump from the contact, as if his touch was lava and burns. the magenta-haired doesn’t miss your reaction, in fact, he narrows his eyes at you when he notices. you make the mistake of looking him in the eye and the churn in your stomach is back, heart skipping a beat as your hand goes limp in his.

this must be what they call a ‘moment’ in the movies, because you’re definitely having one right now, and it’s getting harder to keep your resolve up. 

“sae, please leave. i’m trying to finish up these tasks before the day ends and you’re really disturbing me,” you grumble, trying not to let your voice waver. glancing away from sae, you slip your wrist out of his grasp and step away, creating some distance.

“is it something i did?” he asks. “if you’re not leaving because of the job itself then it must be the person, right? did i do something to upset you?”

“why do you care?”

“i have every right to, you’re my manager.” 

“i won’t be in a week.”

“that’s a week away, you are still my manager right now and i want to know why it is you’re leaving.”

“can you not take the hint, sae? i don’t want to tell you!” you exclaim, shutting the filing drawer with a little more force than necessary.

“i won’t leave until you tell me.”

“you will actually hate me if i tell you.”

“i will hate you if you don’t tell me.”

“well then it doesn’t matter.”

“yes it does. if you’re just gonna leave me behind then i can’t see why you can’t tell m-”

“-if i tell you will you leave?” you snap. the silence is deafening, with sae widening his eyes in shock at your outburst. he nods firmly. “i like you. in more than a professional way. that’s why.”

turning around to the filing cabinet again, you reach out to pull the drawer with shaky hands, a racing heart, and a swirling stomach. 

“now that i’ve told you, could you please leave?” you omit to tell him that you can’t look him in the eye. not anymore now that you’ve effectively ruined whatever-was-going-on between you and the star athlete.

footsteps echo behind you, drawing near with each click of sae’s shoes. you stiffen when they stop right behind you and there’s a moment of quiet, allowing you to hear sae shuffle behind you, a hesitant hand reaches out to cover yours, gently pulling it away from the cabinet to turn you around instead.

you don’t look him in the eye, glancing at every inch of the walls in your office just to avoid him. sae frowns at your evasion.

“can you look me in the eye so i don’t sound stupid saying what i’m about to say?” he asks, a little gentler than his usual, demanding tone, but still cold enough that your gaze cuts to meet his.

“you always sound stupid,” you mutter without thinking. 

sae scrunches his face in judgement. “seriously? i was gonna say something you’d like to hear to. way to go for ruining it.” 

“what, no! tell me!”

“i don’t think you deserve to know anymore, stupid.”

“hey! if i had to tell you then it’s only fair if-”

“-i like you too.”

that zips you up and a glimpse of mirth shines in sae’s eyes, paired with an almost-unnoticeable quirk of his lips upward. 

“you do?” you stammer in disbelief. 

“yeah.” 

“oh.”

“yeah.”

there’s a pregnant silence between you two. no one ever really tells you what to do in scenarios like this, and the one time you’d like to use your brain and not embarrass yourself in front of sae, your mind decides to see itself out. “that’s… cool.”

“that’s all you have to say?”

“what, do you have more to add?”

“not really apart from inviting you to dinner with me.” 

“when?”

“tonight.”

“tonight?” you parrot. “i can’t, i have so many tasks left to finish!”

“just leave them behind.”

“i can’t! i should get them done before i leave.”

“you leave in a week, then none of these tasks are your problem anymore.”

“that’s really not the best way to think about this, sae.”

“so thank goodness you’re my manager and not someone else.”

you narrow your eyes at him, immediately knowing what he was implying. “don’t think that this is a reason for me to stay being your manager. in fact, i’d argue that i now have more reasons to quit.” 

with a ‘tch’, the soccer player rolls his eyes. “okay whatever, we’re grabbing dinner and that’s final.” he threads your hands together. “c’mon, sweets, let’s go.”

#sae x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock

[finniestoncrane]

Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 39: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.5k am i going to cry because this is almost over? maybe lmao💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some angst, but mostly ambiguous feelings

“My dear, will you please join me in the workshop?”

Eddie’s voice rang out through the hall. Loud, but not sharp. Oddly soft. And there was no hint of sarcasm, no patronising tone, to the pet name he offered you. This alone was enough to make you suspicious, sending pangs of cold, chilling fear through your body as you worried what might be in store for you. That was your default as of late. Things had been difficult since the orphanage, and you had settled comfortably on that being all your fault. And now, anytime you spoke to Eddie, anytime he needed to speak to you, your first thought was always negative, jumping to fearful conclusions that had you so on edge that you were finding yourself exhausted constantly, strung high and forever tetchy.

As you walked into the workroom, he turned to you, his face coloured by an expression you hadn’t seen often in him, making it difficult to recognise. Confusion? Lack of understanding? Lost without an answer. Unlike him. But, despite looking as though he had no idea what he was doing or what he was going to say, he spoke anyway. Very much like him. 

“I would like to assuage some… concerns I think you might have been having. Some that I shared until I spent the night dedicating my immense and spectacular brain power to this little conundrum.”

He paused, expecting you to roll your eyes at his ego, but you were staring, unblinking, waiting patiently and focused for his next words.

“As you will know, I have been incredibly busy this past few weeks. I apologise for that, and I apologise for not involving you as much in my work. I felt that you needed a rest, or deserved a rest, or… it doesn’t matter. This work… I’m intending on it being a surprise. For everyone, but mostly for you.”

Your mouth twisted into a confused look, at least that part of your worries could be filed away for now. It had been a while since he had asked anything of you, and to know it wasn’t out of anger or disappointment, or, god forbid, him practising living without you, you could feel the knots in your stomach easing slightly.

“For some time, I’ve been working on a project. One I couldn’t involve you in, even as my assistant. As a trusted party, as a friend. Or more than a friend.”

There was a struggle behind the words, as though he were worried about how they would come out. Scared he might commit to too much, to overstep a boundary neither of you had placed by calling you something more. 

“I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Your heart thudded, deep in your chest. Like it had fallen from your throat to the bottom of your rib cage. It knocked you back, the feeling, the knowledge that he cared enough to leave you out of something dangerous. To stop you from doing what was still your job just to make sure nothing bad happened to you. But you were still nervous, still speechless, and unable to speak before he started talking again.

“I think this is why I find it difficult to express my intentions for the future. Because I do have plans, but…”

He gestured around the room, at his failed plans, broken creations, settling his fingertips on old and new scars that covered his body.

“... Completely asinine to plan ahead when you’re… someone like me.”

You hated how right he was. The future, especially to an unreformed criminal, was always blurred, never quite there. Never manageable or predictable, no matter how much they would like it to be. No matter how smart they were. 

Eddie’s hand on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes settling on his as he focused intensely on you.

“I hate for this to be rushed, but Halloween is fast approaching and I have it on good authority that we will be rather busy come the big night. So I need you to know now that I will require you to be at this exact address at this specific time. Tomorrow night, the furthest tunnel, 9pm. Can you do that?”

You chose to ignore the tone, his question sounding very familiar to the sarcastic ones he would ask you when you first began to work for him. When he would ask if you could do something simple with the shit-eating grin of a man determined to get to you. Which of course, he had, and still did. 

“Is that… the question you had to ask me?”

Eddie reached his hand out, placing it awkwardly, almost formally, against the side of your upper arm.

“No, my dear. That has to wait until tomorrow. I just need to know… that despite everything, you’ll be there.”

The pause before you answered was a little too long, distressing on your end because it meant you didn’t immediately know the answer. Tortuous on Eddie’s as he waited to find out what his future really held in store. 

“I… I’ll be there, Eddie.”

He let out a sigh of relief, grabbing your shoulders as he placed his hands down firmly on them.

“Good. Good… Thank you.”

You offered him a smile, one that was so obviously awkward and forced to you both, before you turned and began making your way back to your room. Eddie hadn’t asked you to leave, but you knew he wanted you to. And you needed the space to think. Some time alone to settle your nerves and wonder what kind of cryptic bullshit Eddie was rambling about this time. 

A smile crossed your lips. At least that felt like normal. Eddie being strange, difficult to comprehend, frantic in his delivery of emotions. Strangely comforting. 

It really had been actually. Comforting. It was awkward, yes, but only because you let it be. You were in the headspace for that. You had been thinking negatively prior to even seeing Eddie’s face for the first time that day. But maybe the tone had been light, or would have been if you had let it be. Maybe there was something warm and tender in the way he said he needed you, to be there, to trust him. That there was an overarching meaning behind his behaviour, behind the words he said, the things he did. His future, though complicated, would be one you were a part of if he had any control over it, and that you had to trust him of that. The question he had to ask-

Fuck. 

This could be it. 

It felt like it. 

The rushed speech, the way he held your arms, looked deep into your eyes. Frantic, but excited. That felt like the mood you recognised from terrible sitcoms. The preamble to an inevitable proposal. An engagement. A declaration of love of the highest, most official, order. 

Mrs Nigma. What a complete gas. What a twist. What a… nightmare? 

Maybe he was going to do it. Maybe it would be ok. Maybe it was right. But it didn’t feel right. Did it feel wrong though?

It did feel wrong. It felt so wrong. So rushed. So unlike him. The guilt felt like it could almost swallow you, envelop you in an inky black substance that erased any other emotion you might be capable of. You had, for some reason, put an immense amount of pressure on everything. On your relationship, on Eddie. And he was responding like one of the rats in the sewer, stuck in a trap that it had tried to wriggle free from, but had eventually accepted its fate and succumbed to the slow death. Was that what your relationship was? A stifling, suffocating trap? Were you hindering his work? Stealing his focus? Making him make choices, take actions, that he never would have before or under his own will? 

But really, how much influence did you really think you could have over him? Realistically, you knew he was still, at his very rore, Edward Nigma. The Riddler. And you were still just you. Maybe a version of you that he cared for, and one he had learned to compromise with. But still, you couldn’t imagine that his feelings towards you would sway his very lifestyle or his long standing goals. 

And yet… you could let yourself believe that in fantasy. So then came another pang of guilt. You had to admit to yourself that if you could have Edward, if you could take him away from the things that gave him purpose, you would. Selfishly. You might be able to convince yourself that it was better for him in the long run, but what did you know? You weren’t his psychiatrist or psychologist or therapist. So many had tried and failed before you. What made you different?

Love? Compromise? 

So why couldn’t you compromise? 

Why couldn’t you accept your status with him? What? It wasn’t enough to just be with him anymore? You deserved more than that? 

Each hour that passed by only brought more worry, more questions without answers, possibilities both positive and negative that clouded your mind. The only thing you really were sure about was that, if he asked the question you suspected he might ask, that you wouldn’t say no.

Or would you.

Shit. 

Turns out, you really didn’t know anything. 

Just like Eddie had said when he first met you. Always right. Of course he was.

#finnie writes #arkham riddler #arkham edward nigma #riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse #riddler #the riddler imagine #riddler smut #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x you #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma #arkham!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #arkham!verse #finnie yotn

[jazzmckay]

soft little fenders ficlet because the mood struck <3

*

Anders has been growing his hair out. It hangs past his shoulders now; sometimes he ties it back, other times he leaves it free, lets it fall where it may, not minding when the wind swirls it into tangles. On such occasions, Fenris finds himself running his fingers through it, gauntlet removed and touch gentle, easing the knots loose. Anders' hair is soft, and running his fingers through it feels nice.

From the smile Anders always gives him after, it feels nice to him too, so Fenris keeps doing it, even if he is unused to--and therefore unsure about--giving such simple affections.

It's warm enough on the northern border between the Free Marches and Antiva that Anders ties his hair up in a messy bun more often than not when he goes to work in the tiny garden they've started behind the cabin they're currently inhabiting. It's a nice cabin, and easily defensible, too--they may stay here longer than they've stayed anywhere else.

While Anders tends to the plants, Fenris fills a wash basin and cleans the pile of laundry that has gathered over the past week. His attention is divided, half on his soapy hands, half on Anders. Some strands of his hair fall loose from the tie. If one gets in his face, he blows and shakes it away, still intent on his work. His hands move with practised motions, firm and precise.

By the time Fenris is pinning up their clothes to dry, Anders is finished. He takes the washing basin with him when he goes inside, off to wash up himself.

Fenris follows once he's done his task, and finds Anders sitting on the end of the bed they share, his hands clean and working a brush through his untied hair.

The sight of him makes Fenris still just to take him in, even though he's been treated to the sight of Anders relaxed, in loose, plain clothes, and with the lines of his face smoothed out, many times now. Almost every day, as Kirkwall fades into the past, relinquishing its hold.

Fenris finally steps over to him, and Anders lifts his face to meet his gaze. "Beautiful mage," Fenris murmurs as he cups Anders' cheek and leans down to kiss him.

Anders' fingers clutch the back of Fenris' tunic as he returns the kiss, holding onto him. He always does something of the sort when Fenris initiates, like he needs him closer, needs him to linger as long as possible.

Fenris draws his fingers through Anders' combed hair, both enjoying the sensation and as a gesture of reassurance. When they part from the kiss, Fenris takes the brush from Anders' hand and settles on the mattress with him, picking up from where he interrupted Anders' brushing.

As he passes the brush through Anders' hair, Anders goes boneless, shoulders completely loose and head tipped forward. Fenris can't resist sweeping his hair aside to kiss his nape, which earns him a soft sound of approval.

The last of the tangles are smoothed out easily, then Fenris sets the brush aside on the patchy blanket, bringing both hands up to gather Anders' hair within them. The tie is around Anders' wrist; he would hand it over, if Fenris offered to put his hair back up, but that hadn't crossed Fenris' mind, initially. He only wants to touch, and wants to soothe.

Still, an unexpected inclination comes over him as he's running his fingers through. He parts Anders' hair into a few narrow strands, beginning to weave them in a way that starts forming a braid, even though Fenris has never learned how. At least, he has no recollection of learning how, but muscle memory takes over, and soon Anders' hair is pulled into an intricate braid that starts wide and tapers to a tiny point.

"I didn't know you could do this," Anders says as he raises a hand and brushes his fingers blindly over the braid, feeling the weave of it.

"Neither did I," Fenris admits. "Maybe... I did this for Varania, or our mother. A long time ago."

Anders turns enough to look at him, taking his hand in a comforting hold.

Thinking of his family doesn't sting as much as it did after Varania's betrayal. Fenris is almost at peace with it, almost able to accept a past he doesn't remember but was still important to him, once upon a time. Regardless, Anders is his family now, and the others too, even if they've mostly gone separate ways. Anders is the one here with him, holding his hand and looking at him with love in his eyes.

"I like it," Anders says. "Will you do it for me again?"

Fenris nods. "Whenever you like."

Anders smiles and shifts closer, leaning in to rest against Fenris' chest. Fenris wraps his arm around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, as eager as Anders always is for there to be no space left between them.

#just randomly got the headcanon that fenris can braid hair and ran with it #my fic #dragon age #fenders

[notyour-valentine]

Hello! Could you please write a blurb with Thomas Shelby and with this line: “To speak and to speak well are two different things”???

Well Spoken ~Tommy Shelby x Reader (Fluff)

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

(18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Words: 1238 words

She could see him pacing up and down the corridor, notes in hand, his rounded glasses perched atop his nose as he muttered the words under his breath. 

It was a funny sight, and one she had been enjoying for quite a while now. 

Once he would be out there and trace of shaking hands and nose pinching would be gone, replaced by cold professionalism. 

Oh poor Mr Shelby, she thought with the hint of a smile. 

She knew she should have walked off and gone home long ago, but she couldn't stop watching. There was something truly intriguing about the way he prepared, the way he practised. His insecurity showed not just vulnerability but dedication, both things she didn't see too often in these halls. 

Perhaps that was why she averted her gaze from the door and instead chose to approach him. 

Or maybe it was that special aura he had. Many people here claimed greatness, either directly or indirectly, but he had achieved his own success with his own hands. And yet he didn't wear his wealth or acclaim like a crown. 

He still walked like a man going to work and not a Princeling headed for court, even in the Palace of Westminster. 

It didn't surprise her that he heard her coming. 

By the time he turned he had gathered his papers to his chest and moved to the side to let her through, but when she stopped beside him, he raised his eyebrow in a silent question. 

"I was wondering if you needed help, Mr Shelby."

She offered him a smile as she nodded towards his speech. 

A frown washed over his face as he studied her. 

"Who are you?", He wanted to know. There was a sharpness to his voice, impatience bordering on rudeness. 

For a moment, it made her reconsider her offer, but she introduced herself all the same. 

"And it is my job to record the speeches in parliament and write them out for the archives. So I am an expert on them, I suppose."

He hummed, as if not quite sure what to make of her yet. 

"If anyone knows what works and what doesn't, what sounds good and what doesn't, that would be me."

Mr Shelby huffed. 

"It's not about how it sounds. It's about the policy."

His sentiment made her smile. In a way, it was strange to find a man of his age and standing adorable, but he was. At least if he believed his words. 

"You're not a natural orator, are you?", She wanted to know. 

He sounded almost insulted. 

"I have speeches before,", he mumbled, "during the campaign."

She smiled once more. 

"And you did it in your own city, where your family employs half the citizens, either directly or indirectly, with your name on half the schools, hospitals and more?"

He cleared his throat and glanced down, almost boyish. 

"To speak and to speak well are two different things that rely on so many factors. Including the audience. I could help you, if you want."

Mr Shelby weighed his options for a moment. 

"Fine then.", He grumbled as if he was doing her a favour and not the other way around. 

Then he gestured to the entrance to his office. As he let her go first, his hand found the small of her back. 

His office was a lot simpler than most she had seen in her time, and he was kind enough to offer her a chair as he sat down behind his desk before inviting her to speak. 

Instead she asked for his script. 

He handed it to her and watched with sharp, unmissing eyes as she read. 

"And?", He asked not without a hint of impatience. 

"It is very thorough.", She admitted. 

A soft sigh of relief escaped his lips and she could see tension disappear from his shoulders. 

"I wanted it to be airtight.", He admitted, "an airtight proposal."

"That wasn't a compliment."

His pale blue eyes widened. 

"No?"

"No."

For a moment their gazes locked in a statedown, his born from confusion, hers from curiosity. 

Never could anything tell her more about a person than their reaction to rejection. 

Finally, she decided to show him some mercy and handed his speech back. 

"You are not presenting a business plan."

"But that is exactly what I'm doing.", He argued, before going into his profitable housing scheme would be in the long run. 

She raised her hand and silenced him. 

"That speech you are giving is not supposed to be an explanation, it is supposed to be an advertisement."

He leaned back and folded his hands in front of him, tilting his head to listen, soaking in her every word. 

"Your goal is not to inform, it is to convince and for that you don't need facts. You need to connect with people inside the house and the outside. To stir emotion."

He didn't give her the grace of a reaction, not yet. 

So she slid the papers over. 

"You are a salesman, Sir. So sell me your proposal."

She ended her challenge with a smile as she leaned back in her chair, mirroring him. 

His eyes took her in from head to toe, weighing her worth, and then he cleared his throat and leaned forward. 

"It is about better housing for factory workers, and judging by your pearl earrings and the clasp on your shoes it is not exactly your field of interest. I'd have a hard time selling that to you."

A capitulation so soon? 

A small part of her was disappointed. She had hoped for more. 

But where he was ready to fold, she stabbed once more. 

"It seems you are a very keen observer, but not a very good salesman. Try again.", She demanded. 

After all, most people that would vote on this bill didn't have a natural disposition to care about this issue. 

"I'm sorry?"

"Try again.", She asked, before deciding to throw him a bone. "Find something that would make me emotionally attached to housing for factory workers."

He gestured around vaguely, searching for something- anything. And his choice was just as vague. 

"You're a good person?"

It made her laugh under her breath. 

"What if I wasn't?"

Not that you could tell by now. 

"You care about your fellow citizens. Your fellow countrymen."

Better, she thought, still not good enough. 

"Not enough to spend thousands of pounds. Why would I? I never met a factory worker in my life."

His jaw muscles twitched slightly, but he kept his calm. 

"The current housing situation in industrial cities is a breeding ground for disease."

Ooh- we are getting somewhere. 

She was starting to feel that tingling thrill that only came from powerful speeches, from words said and meant, from purpose and passion. 

So close. 

"I don't live there, so it doesn't affect me."

"It affects them and their children."

"Now I know about the problem, but I can't see it. You need to create an image in the head of your audience if you really want them to remember you."

Mr Shelby huffed. 

"You're sharp.", he acknowledged. 

"Maybe so.", She argued with a shrug. "But no one in this house comes to the Chamber without a sharpened tongue or a hidden dagger."

His pale lips curled into something that could have been mistaken for a smile. 

"How much do they pay you to type out speeches?"

End

Thank you so much for requesting and for participating in my celebration - I hope you liked it! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts

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#valentines1k #valentineswritings #ask me to dance #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby / reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine

[flowers-for-the-grave]

Flaming Death

This wasn't the plan.

All Joey had wanted to do was to try and get revenge on the resident Necromantic Witch who'd decided to curse him. That was fair enough. If he got cursed, surely it would be fine to return the favour? So he tried to learn about those curses. It was very complicated, and he didn't understand all of it, but a few curses seemed simple enough. Joey wanted to start simple; to give Scott the burning curse he'd used on Joey not too long ago. From there Joey wanted to get progressively worse, but starting small seemed to be the best idea. He would have to be careful in getting a taglock. Last time didn't go down too well.

Not to mention how Scott was taunting him. In his own home no less! And maybe that's caused Joey to resort to some...creative methods of getting that taglock. But it's mostly because he needs Scott distracted by something.

Joey heard Pris from within her tower. He left Spawn and saw her standing there buying upgrades from her...what were they called again? Ah, it didn't matter.

"Pris!"

"Joey? What is it?" She folded her arms and pointed her chin up slightly.

"I want to try and get Scott's taglock again."

"He killed us both last time. What says he won't try it again?" The Water Witch had apprehension and doubt laced within her words.

"Because I'll distract him while you get the taglock. But go invisible when you do it!" Joey grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her tower and into Spawn. "Ready?"

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea..." she muttered, then sighed in defeat. "Fine. But be quick. I don't want to drag this out too long in case it goes south." She pulled out a glass bottle with a translucent lilac liquid in it and downed the contents in one gulp. Pris disappeared from his vision, the only indication of her presence being small particles floating whimsically around her in a tiny shroud. "Ready." Pris had removed her armour and hat to go fully invisible. Joey trusted she was still there.

"Alright then. Let's go."

--------

Scott had been minding his business.

Which isn't the easiest to believe seeing as he'd been grinding to get new armour, spells and weapons from the very start. No, he wasn't doing much. He had enough taglocks of almost every other witch partaking in the contest to become Supreme Witch. So why worry? He could curse anyone who dared cross him with pretty much anything. Misfortune being his personal favourite. Watching his enemies become bombarded with nausea, then blindness and poison, all at random and some simultaneously...it was a great stress-reliever.

But he hadn't been dabbling in dark magic. The Book Of Shadows was firmly shut and resting somewhere in his inventory. For now, all he was doing was gardening. And by gardening, he meant trying to get more plants to grow so he could have more secret rooms. Because really, who doesn't want multiple secret rooms to practise dark magic away from prying eyes? It was perfect.

Until Scott heard a quiet chuckle from behind.

He spun around on his heels to see who it was. To see who he had to threaten with curses to leave him alone. Annoyingly enough, it was the Fire-Frost Witch. And some...weird particles? They didn't seem to rise up very high, which indicated it could be Joey's familiar hidden with an invisibility potion.

"Hello," Scott purred. "How've you been since I cursed you?" To his own surprise, Joey seemed unfazed.

"Fine, actually. Managed to sleep through most of it. Really, find some better curses." The Fire-Frost Witch had an almost playful glint in his eyes. "Anyway, what are you doing? Looks pretty secretive."

"Just some gardening," Scott shrugged. He had a small list of excuses in his head to back himself up. "I figured my area needed a bit more death and decay in some bits. Thus, wither roses." He gestured at the small patch of black flowers with sharp thorned stems. "They weren't too hard to collect. The withering effect wasn't that bad." Which was a lie; it hurt like absolute hell, but Joey didn't have to know that.

"I didn't take you for a gardener," Joey didn't seem convinced. Yet instead of calling him out, Joey let it happen for some reason.

"Not many people do." One person did. One person Scott had lost a while ago. One person he needed to bring back. And Joey was standing in his way of doing so. All the other witches were. "But now that you know," Scott slowly approached Joey, ensuring each step was dragged out, one foot in front of the other. "I can't exactly have you running around telling people. I have a reputation to uphold, just like you. So how about we keep this between us?" Scott was practically leaning over Joey now. Their faces were inches apart, and Scott ensured that Joey could see the power burning in his eyes. The stench of death was carried on the wind, and the Fire-Frost Witch winced from it. Scott was unaffected; he'd become accustomed to it. Joey's moment of weakness gave Scott an edge.

"Really? Then how about we make a deal?" Joey knew he was playing a risky game like this. Pris's potion was starting to wear off, and he could see her figure flickering in and out of visibility. But with yet another potion gone, she was invisible once more. They both shared a silent look speaking volumes on their behalf. Joey had to keep going. The smell of death caused his nose to wrinkle in disgust. Honestly, it was just distasteful.

"What kind of deal?"

"Hmm...well it would be one both of us benefit from," He paused to give himself time to think. Pris was already getting close behind him. He only needed to stall for a bit longer. He stared up at Scott's lifeless green eyes. The necromancer really did embody death in a way. Menacing when he had to be, while also caring to those who'd earned his respect. "How about..." Joey's hand subconsciously reached for Scott's shirt and grabbed a fistful of it. He pulled the Necromantic Witch closer.

What?

Joey didn't know what he was doing. He didn't have to do...whatever this was! He just needed to give Pris time to get Scott's taglock. But since they were here, like this, Joey couldn't help but be curious. Surely it would buy Pris time if he...

A pause. Neither man knew what to do. They gazed at each other as if asking for mutual permission. Their eyes spoke for them. And before either could blink, their lips were pressed together.

Joey couldn't breathe. His face must've been bright red. He tugged Scott closer and held him there as if scared the Necromantic Witch would run away.

Scott wasn't questioning it. It wasn't hard to do, when thoughts were buzzing through his mind faster than flies flocking to a rotted corpse in the woods. But he didn't have an answer. All he could focus on was Joey. His arms cirlced around Joey's waist.

The two pulled away. They were breathing heavy and were unsure of what to do.

Joey recovered quickly. "Until next time, Scott." He gave the necromancer a quick kiss on the cheek for good measure, then ran away.

--------

"What was that about?" Pris didn't get the taglock. She'd hesitated a moment too long and lost her chance.

"N-nothing," Joey's face was still red from that encounter. "I-it was nothing."

"Really? Because you seemed pretty enthusiastic when you ki-"

"Shh!" Joey clamped a hand over her mouth and dropped it a second later. His gaze settled on the floor at his feet.

"Now what? We don't have a taglock of him."

"I don't know. Maybe we should just get stronger first and come back to it later."

"That's what you said last time." Pris folded her arms. Her eyes scanned Joey with an analytical glint. Her lips curled up in a smile as realisation dawned on her. "Oh, I see. Yeah we don't have to curse him anymore. But, you can convince him to stop cursing us."

"O-okay." Joey nodded. That was a compromise he could work with. In fact, that was probably an outcome he preferred over Pris having gotten that taglock.

If anyone said he made a protective voodoo doll for Scott that night, Joey would say they lied.

#witchcraft smp #joey graceffa #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #prismarina

[extra-vertebrae]

I am sorry for spamming your inbox so much recently, do you have any thoughts on technical side of drawing? I saw you mentioned that you draw light handed in few posts and I think we all heard the ,,draw from shoulder" advice. I have big issue with controlling my lines especially when working on details when drawing from shoulder. I started doing skeleton studies as suggested by you and maybe it's because i draw incorrectly but my hand starts hurting quickly because to keep lines stable i need to press harder against surface of tablet. Is drawing lightly something that can come with practise ? I had not seen anyone really talk much about stuff like that.

No worries, this is the kind of spam I enjoy!

It's been a long time since I heard "draw from the shoulder". You are definitely drawing incorrectly if your hand is hurting - drawing light handed is something you can practice and it is related to drawing from the shoulder, but before I get to that I want to go over what sounds like is happening in the background of your Ask. From what I'm reading here it sounds to me that you were just told to "draw from the shoulder" without being told what that is for or even how to do it, and that is putting your hand and art tools at risk.

The technical side of drawing does not get discussed nearly as much as "tips and tricks" do, and this is a big shame because the technical aspect is what will save your tools and your hands.

There are four points of control for when you are drawing: your fingers, your wrist, your elbow, and your shoulder. Each one provides an advantage while drawing and fulfill a specific technical purpose, but more often than not we only hear about the shoulder. Drawing from the shoulder and elbow is about fluidity and maintenance of line for large and / or fluid gestures and lines, such as drawing shapes that involve contiguous lines like circles, or fluid, long, sweeping gestures, like this:

This gesture / rough sketch was done primarily with my shoulder and elbow - the strokes are long, light and done very quickly.

Drawing from the wrist and fingers is for small, highly controlled lines for refinement and details, like this:

I drew most of these small circles with my fingers and wrist, rather than my elbow or shoulder, because they are both very small on the canvas and require a measure of placement control that isn't afforded by drawing from the shoulder.

You do not want to draw individual parts of a skeleton with your shoulder or elbow, that is not what drawing from your shoulder is for. Drawing from the shoulder is about large motions and fluid, steady lines over a greater area, not tiny details or brief flicks of motion. Small details and brush strokes require your hands and fingers. Understanding what part of your body to draw from is a technique all unto itself that requires practice and asking questions, and if possible, watching other artists draw. This video on drawing from the shoulder is extremely informative in this aspect, because all four points of control and what they are best used for are showcased here:

Teachers hammer "draw from your shoulder" into us because as young artists most of us started our journey hunched over small sketchbooks with our noses pressed to the paper - bad posture, bad technique, and eventually ruined hands (and backs). Drawing from the shoulder allows for big gestures, long strokes - making us use more of the canvas and develop longer, stronger, and more confident lines. Your hand is hurting because you are trying to enforce very exact control on a pivot (your shoulder) that isn't meant for that sort of control. You're probably gripping your tablet stylus like death itself on top of pressing really hard to get the tiny strokes you want - you'll want to stop doing that right away. Both of these - a death grip and a very hard press - will eventually ruin both your hand and your stylus and tablet (or any other tool for that matter). A harsh grip and a hard press make the tendons of your hands and wrist tense and tighten to maintain that control, and when held for long periods of time will lead not only to fatigue, but swelling and the development of scar tissue inside the wrist, which will lead to carpal tunnel.

How you hold your pen / pencil / stylus also counts and will affect your control. How your hold your tools is also affected by whether you are drawing from your shoulder or your fingers. Personally, I hold my tools very loosely while drawing to keep my hand relaxed and my movement natural / long / loose, even while drawing from the fingers and wrist. This helps keep my hand very light in regards to pressure and grip, and has helped keep my hand healthy. I learned to hold my pens and pencils very loosely long before I picked up a stylus, and I feel very lucky about this, because I firmly believe this is what has helped prevent me from running into carpal tunnel during my transition from traditional to digital. My art tablet and stylus is over 10 years old and is very small. Due to its size I can't really use my shoulder to draw, I have to use my wrist and fingers as my primary points of control to make my art. This puts my hand at risk because the work of drawing isn't spread out over all of my arm, and there are days where I am drawing for 8 hours a day (I also game a lot, but that's a different conversation). To keep my hand limber and healthy, I maintain a light grip, a light press, and stretch often.

You can practice developing a lighter touch with your hands and tools by practising the motions and exercises shown in the linked video, and by being more mindful of how you are gripping your tools. A loose hold will give you a lighter line, but it will require practice and working through things like shaky or unsatisfactory lines. Exercises like just filling a page - real or digital - with strokes and lines like loops, hatches, or things like this will really help (I was testing some new brushes and practising a new signature here):

I hope this answers your question!

#art talk

[prepare4trouble]

Ed began to move his  thumb in slow, lazy circles on the back of Stede’s hand. “No, come on, you’ve got me doing all the work here, it’s your turn to think of something,” he said.

Stede glanced around the room with a thoughtful expression. “Well, I don’t really know,” he said. “Some comfortable seating, certainly. A wardrobe big enough for the both of us. Oh, here’s an idea; how about we have a little bowl of lollies on the front desk?”

“Uh… what? What for?”

Stede frowned. “What do you mean ‘what for’? For the guests. I’ve been in places that do that, and it always seems like a really nice gesture.”

Ed nodded. “I think they’re meant to be mints, mate.”

“They can be mints.”

“And I think they go on the pillows.”

Stede shook his head at that. “I don’t think that’s the best idea though. Imagine someone arriving at the inn, exhausted after a long day of travelling. We show them to their room, and they just get straight into bed and fall asleep.”

Ed thought about it. “I’d be pretty disappointed if that happened,” he said.

“You would? Why?”

“Well, because I’m going to be designing a whole menu for us to serve up on an evening, and this guy’s just going to sleep through the whole meal? Bit rude, isn’t it?”

“He’s going to be paying to stay here, so if he wants to sleep, that’s up to him. Anyway, maybe he arrived after we finished serving meals, or maybe he didn’t know meals were included, so he’d made his own arrangements and eaten on the way. Anyway, if he gets a good night’s sleep, he’ll be up and ready in the morning in time to enjoy his breakfast.”

Still slightly irritated at their fictional guest for declining what he was certain would be a delicious meal, Ed shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Anyway, my point was, what if he falls asleep without noticing the mint on the pillow?”

“Yeah, okay,” Ed agreed. “I guess that could get pretty sticky.”

“Exactly, and that’s just going to mean more work for us, cleaning it up. No, I think a bowl on the front desk is best.”

Ed nodded. “Fair enough.” That way, they would get to eat them between serving customers, too. “Yeah, I like it.”

“Although actually,” Stede added. “Will we even need a desk? I don’t suppose we’re going to be having to check in very many guests. Not at first, at least.”

“But I want a desk,” Ed said. “With a bell on it for when we’re not there. And I’ve been practising my customer service voice.”

#our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #ofmd fanfic #my fic #ofmd spoilers

[wind-becomes-lightning]

"Just because you can doesnt mean you should" obiyama

if you want👉👈

Hii!!! With your help I got an idea instantly for this, thank you! I struggled so long with coming up with something and then boom, there it was. So here you go!

Uchiha Obito / Yamato (relationship is established)

A kind of Modern AU (tho there is very little influence)

Rated G

2665 words.

Ao3 Link [x]

To win a bet with Kakashi and Gai, Obito learns a new instrument. Yamato is not excited about this.

There was thick air in the Uchiha household. When Obito climbed into bed and tried to reach over to his husband, Yamato scooched further away from him, back still turned. Obito made a whiny sound of pleading, but Yamato did not show mercy. He was hellbent on making Obito understand that he was mad and that small gestures wouldn’t suddenly make it better again.

“It’s almost over,” Obito whispered into the dark. “The deadline is the day after tomorrow.” The vain hope to get his husband to show him the affection he had been missing so much in the last week or so. 

At first Yamato didn’t want to say anything about it at all, content with just letting Obito boil in his own uncertainty for the hell he had unleashed on him during the past month, but then he couldn’t stop himself from going: “My plants are dying, Obito.” Plants were a sensitive subject for him.

Obito grumbled a little, something about how Yamato would be able to recover the plants without having to struggle too much, because he was so good at gardening, but then changed his strategy: “I am pretty sure it is not proven that music is influencing plant growth. I’ve seen a study about that.” He hadn’t but he was shooting in the dark that Yamato hadn’t either.

“My plants are dying since you torture them with what you call “playing music” each day. I don’t need to study to see how it goes.” Yamato pulled his blanket over his shoulder. “Besides, I miss my peace and quiet too, you know?”

Just thinking about Obito’s practice session this afternoon felt like his headache was back and made his ears ring. This apartment had felt like a torture chamber in the last month and while yes, Yamato was soon to be released from this suffering, he could not just let Obito off the hook now. 

“But I’ve improved so much already,” Obito knocked his head into Yamato’s shoulders. Yamato still didn’t turn around. He would keep freezing Obito out until he learned from his grave mistakes.

Yamato scoffed: “Sure, but not enough.”

Obito now went on the offence: “Isn’t it great that I practised hard to learn this new thing? Shouldn’t that make you happy? It's great to know that I can if I try.”

“Just because you can doesn't mean you should.” And with that the conversation was over for Yamato. He pulled the blanket even higher over his ears, scooched to the real edges of the bed so that Obito’s head fell to the pillow and then controlled his breathing to pretend he was falling asleep.

A few minutes later Obito quietly said Yamato’s name, but turned around himself when there was a lack of reaction. 

Of course Yamato felt bad at his icy behaviour to the person that he, by all accounts, loved more than anyone he had ever loved before, but Obito had brought the chaos into the household just five weeks ago and now neither Yamato nor his plants had only one second of quiet during the afternoons. It was driving him crazy.

He should have known that nonsense would come out of the fact that Obito went out drinking alone with Kakashi and Gai. Those three together, spurred on by a little rivalry they had had since childhood, never stopped thinking of stupid things to do with each other, especially when nobody was around to reign them in. But Yamato had stupidly thought that it would be fine, that they would go drinking and maybe bet on who could get drunk first. He had been too busy to join them and take care of them.

When Yamato woke up the next morning and rolled over to his still sort of hungover husband, Obito slurred that he was going to go out and buy a trombone. Yamato had naively assumed Obito was still sleeping and dreaming and maybe speaking nonsense, after all Obito had never played the trombone or had any interest in it at all or any other musical instrument, but no, Obito had been serious, very serious. After eating breakfast and taking a pain killer he was out the door to get his instrument.

At first Yamato put it down as Obito’s sudden quarter life crisis at 30, his realisation that he had never played an instrument before and really wanted to learn one before he was too old, something that Yamato felt like he needed to encourage, but then Obito had returned with his new shiny trombone and a beginners guide to playing it and explained what Yamato had missed the night before.

Apparently Gai, Kakashi and Obito had been very drunk and very impressed with the life band that was playing in the bar. According to Obito, Gai had mentioned first that he would have been an amazing musician if he had ever tried to learn, but he just never had. Obito then had agreed, yes, he too would have been an incredible musician if he had tried harder or even at all. Kakashi too mentioned how he always wanted to play the piano. All three were bragging about how great they would be as musicians if they had just tried a little.

So a bet was born, because of course it was. All three would learn an instrument in the span of a month and then they would compare who learned the fastest and best. Never had Yamato wished he’d be married to Kakashi instead, who relentlessly teased him when they were together, but Kkashi had picked the piano, which, depending on model, could be practised with headphones. Gai had decided to go for the violin, which could also be very disruptive and headache inducing, but still Yamato thought that Obito still picked the worst of all of them: the trombone.

Day after day Obito stood in the living room, open book in front of him, hands on the golden shiny object in his mouth  letting out wrong sound after wrong sound. Yamato, who mostly worked from home, had tried to drown out the constant noise with headphones and such, but somehow the trombone noise was everywhere. He could swear that he could sometimes hear the trombone in his sleep. 

Then his most favourite plant suddenly started losing leaves which had never happened before. Yamato was good at planting and loved his little balcony garden, but ever since Obito started torturing the house with trombone sounds his plants suddenly weren’t doing so well. While he knew it could also be the stiff breeze and the cold winter weather, Yamato decided it was the trombone’s fault. This was easier to explain.

Even their cat, a half grey half black cat named Zetsu was fleeing from the living room. The little boy who usually was constantly on Obito’s heel was now spending most of his time in the bedroom and bolted as soon as the golden shiny head of the trombone was visible anywhere. Not that Yamato could blame him, he wanted to bolt too if he could.

Yamato’s pure frustration at Obito’s obvious fun while practising only added to the constant noise and chaos. He couldn’t stop Obito from doing his little thing when he was always smiling and grinning when something was going his way, he thought in the first two weeks or so. But Obito wasn’t improving quick enough and the noise kept being terrible noise that gave Yamato a feeling like he was losing his mind.

“It’s good, you know,” Obito said one evening when Yamato complained about the entire situation, “through learning the trombone my lung volume will increase and as such I can hold my breath longer when I have things in my mouth.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”

Yamato knew what he meant, but he wasn’t sure if the improvement was worth the current hell he was living in.

“How will you even judge who learned their instrument the best?” Yamato asked one day when Obito had just finished an especially painful rendition of “Oh when the saints” and tried to catch his breath. “Are you going to ask a professional?”

Obito grinned as if he had waited for this question: “Some friends will be judges. Genma, Kurenai, Asuma,.... You.” Then he added: “Which is unfair to the others because you will obviously vote for me.” 

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Yamato said deadpan. Obito pouted.

Slowly Yamato’s support had turned into a little more hostility and he just wanted this to end. He thought the only way to show Obito that this time he had gone a little too far was to withdraw affection from him. This pained him almost as much as it pained Obito, but it seemed to work at least a little. Obito was now exceptionally apologetic each time he had to practise, also, he had bought a muffler, which at least reduced the sound a little.

Only two more days, Yamato thought, and this entire nightmare would finally be over. In his mind he fantasised about a fire he could put the trombone on, the golden instrument melting right under it and never coming back. Blissful quiet would be spreading through the apartment and Obito would get his affection back. Happy end.

They decided to hold the competition in an old garage in Gai’s dad’s house. Might Dai was a way too enthusiastic man for his age and he had immediately volunteered to host all of them to watch their “triumph of youth” which entailed their mastery of an instrument. Yamato very much doubted any of them were very good at any of the instruments they had chosen. Well, Kakashi maybe, since he had in fact played piano when he was younger.

“Trombone huh,” Genma said and pushed Yamato in the sides slightly,” That must have a fun last month.” Yamato shot him a look that could kill. Genma laughed and gave Yamato a sympathy clap on the shoulder: “At least it’s over.”

Yes, at least it was.

They were all given a little sheet of paper with an instrument on it and several scales from one to ten. Presentation. Accuracy. Technique. Sound. “I don’t think any of us is qualified enough to judge on technique,” Kurenai said wisely but Gai waved it off with a typically excited: “You are all amazing enough to understand it even if you aren’t as qualified. I know you can do it.”

Yamato took his seat at the corner of the table and tried not to look too annoyed with the whole ordeal. Obito had been out all morning to practise again, where he had gone Yamato did not know, it was early when he left. Part of Yamato was happy that Obito had decided not to play trombone in their house at 6 am but the other part was upset that he hadn’t even said where he had gone.

First player was Gai. He had bought a wonderfully beautiful wood violin that looked safe and correctly draped over his left shoulder. He was very bouncy, as he so often was, talking about how his opponents shouldn’t be sad if he was the one winning. Unfortunately it was clear relatively quickly that Gai was not going to win. He ripped the strings over the violin as if he was trying to see through a tree. The song he was playing was barely recognisable. When Yamato looked to Asuma that was sitting next to him, Asuma had his head in his hands murmuring: “And that’s only the first one.” 

Gai bowed too deep when he was done, the audience clapped a friendly, but unenthusiastic clap while Dai howled and whistled for his son. The support was cute in a way. Yamato smiled from one to the other. “I think you just have to be a little softer,” Kurenai said to Gai when he came over. “Draw the bow a little lighter, at least for slow songs.” He gave her a thumbs up.

Next was Obito and watching him set up his little stand with sheet music and trombone actually got Yamato a little nervous. Despite it all he wanted Obito to make a good impression and yes, part of him even wanted Obito to win. He made a fist under the table to steady his nerves. Obito could only be better than Gai, right? He had practised so much.

The first sounds came out of the trombone and Yamato could see out of the corner of his eye that Asuma buried his head in his hands again. It sounded vaguely like a song Yamato had heard before, as if it had been run through a noise filter to distort it. Obito had trouble breathing, his head red and fingers sweaty, so he made one mistake after another. Yamato could have sworn he had heard Obito play this exact song perfectly not 24 h ago, but now he messed it up almost as much as Gai had. 

More friendly clap, though Yamato clapped a little harder than he had before. When his husband walked over to him Yamato reached for his hand. “You did well,” he said and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles. It was their first real touch in a week. Obito blushed a little at the praise and then smiled, though he still looked defeated.

The miserable performances of his opponents didn’t bode well for Kakashi, who stepped up now to set up his electric piano. In real Kakashi fashion though, he did not seem to even take notice of anyone around him, too bored to even take this competition seriously. They all knew it was just an act however, that Kakashi cared, maybe more than all of them. He sat down and cleared his throat to get them to be quiet, then he played.

“Ah, better,” Asuma said with relief in his voice and Yamato heard it too. While nowhere near perfect in his execution, Kakashi definitely knew his instrument better than the other too. His fingers were not as light and easy as better pianists’ were, but he absolutely knew his basics. He had chosen a very easy song to play and strung along over the keys with minimal mistakes. When the song ended it was clear that he was the winner. The applause after was much more genuine than the ones before.

Nobody even needed to hand in their sheets. Gai jumped forward immediately, shaking Kakashi’s hand so much that he almost fell over. “As expected from my rival. Perfection.” 

“It was not perfect at all, I didn’t -” Kakashi tried to clarify but Gai cut him off again: “Perfection!”

Obito too admitted defeat, though he did it while frowning and grumbling: “You did well, man.” Which Kakashi accepted with a grin.

“To be fair, it was a really hard bet to win against someone who had a head start,” Yamato comforted Obito later, their hands entwined into each other again. It was nice to have the closeness back, now that they had both made it through the hell that was this month. “You did as well as you could.”

This seemed to soothe Obito’s wounded soul a little. He leaned over and let Yamato give him a kiss to the cheek. “I missed this,” Obito whined a little.

“I told you you could have it back if you would end this,” Yamato said a little smugly. “And now it is obviously over.”

“How do you know?” Obito let go of Yamato’s hand and shrugged, “I had fun playing an instrument…”

“Oh god.”

“I was thinking of maybe learning the drums.” Obito grinned.

Yamato could feel his throbbing headaches return just by imagining this. He looked up into Obito’s smiling face. “You are joking right? Please tell me you are joking.”

In what felt like cruel payback for the weeks of icy treatment, Obito just shrugged again, murmured “who knows” and pressed a soft kiss to Yamato’s forehead. 

#nisi follower celebration #fanfiction things #obiyama #yamaobi #uchiha obito #yamato tenzo

[benedettabeby]

OK OK I DID IT. I wrote something,idk why,idk who wanted it (nobody) but here it comes. Tiva present but not really Tiva (it will make sense I promise). I want to thank you @indestinatus cause her prompt list inspired me to try (even if this story isn't about one of them). Sorry for some english mistakes(I don't speak the language as native) and just sorry if the story doesn't make sense 😅 ok, stop talking now here the story:

MEATBALLS AND PAIN AU CHOCOLAT

Tony was cold. No,not cold,freezing. In addition to the artic temperatures of January,Tony forgot his gloves and scarf at home that morning. He would have given anything to be inside one of the multiples pastry shops sipping on a hot cocoa,one with tiny marshmallow. That was impossible,however,as doing that would mean losing sight of *Littlemeatball* and *LankyRicky*, which were the code names for the two suspects he was following.

It was his professionalism and dedication that was keeping him on that park bench with a red nose that could give Rudolph the reindeer a run for its money and chattering teeth. From that point of view he could see every move of the couple now innocently ice skating,hand in hand, in the middle of the ice rink. The girl,aka Littlemeatball, was the picture of radiance as she laughed to something LankyRicky whispered to her ear. Tony wished he could actually hear what they were talking about but he was too far away so he could only observe their faces mimic and gestures. For example, it was very obvious to his extraordinaire and expert eyes,how LankyRicky was trying to impress the girl by doing some skates tricks he must have practised just for this moment. All the signals were there: cocky smile, muscle flexing,fake humble aura... Tony did it all before(ok maybe he still does). He tried getting close, hiding between the crowd. If he couldn't get close,the data mission was useless,moreover getting closer would assure a faster and more effective intervention if the situation needed it. As he was getting closer,he had to back down when the couple was approaching the ice rink exit. Always laughing the young duo got rid of the skates and headed to the city center,which allowed Tony better camouflage but the same did it to Littlemeatball and LankyRicky. After a ten minutes walk, where DiNozzo was scared he got caught thanks to a shop window reflection and where he had almost lost them when they took a right turn near the McDonald's where a young man playing his guitar created quite a public.

Right now Tony followed the two young partners inside a little café.

"Oh maybe it's finally time for that chocolate!" Tony tought with sheer relief.

While the two sat and started chatting,Tony carefully chose a table that would allow him some control over the situation.

They were planning some sort of a meeting to LankyRicky's beach house,the conversation was starting to get interesting when the waitress rudely interrupted Tony's investigation. Ok,ok,she only asked him his order. But still... now?!

Ordering that hot cocoa resulted in him missing the address of the house and when they decided to meet. Damn. It seemed they were sitting in a comfortable silence now,when suddenly LankyRicky's reached for Littlemeatball's hand across the table. Tony almost fell off his chair trying to see better when his phone rang.

It was the second time someone interrupted him on a key moment.

"Ziva! What? I'm busy" Tony whispered hastily,answering the phone.

"Where are you?" Ziva asked unimpressed

"Uhm. Out"

He was met with a sigh from the other side of the phone

"Tony... Tali sent me a message,she knows you are following her"

Ouch,denial was now the only option

"What? Tali? Following her? I don't even know where she is..."

"She saw you at the park and she is seeing you at the café too"

As she said it,Tony raised his head to glance over the table where the couple was. As she sensed it, Littlemeatball,or better Tali looked right at him before rolling her eyes and turning her attention to her boyfriend.

Tony knew that ninja abilities were hereditary...

"Tony,leave her alone! I know you want to protect her but she's almost 17,she is big and mature enough to create her own life" Ziva's voice reached him through the phone.

Tony knew she was right,but Tali was his little meatball and didn't want to see her getting hurt. He just wanted to be sure nothing bad would happen...

Tali's laughter echoed into the tiny cafè,right before she leaned to kiss the boy's lips. She looked so happy and... in love.It was like Tali aged in front of his eyes.

"Tony...you come home or I need to drag you by the hair on your butt?"

"You're right,there is no need to harm my beautiful butt woman. I'm coming"

"Good boy"

"I know, good boys deserve a prize you know?"

Ziva closed the call with a chuckle:"only if you bring me the pain au Chocolat from where you are. I heard it's the best of Paris"

While he went to pay(and buy a thousand of pain au Chocolat hoping that would calm Ziva and make her forget he actually spied on their daughter), he gave a look at Tali's table only to find it empty. Where was she?

"Richard went to the toilet" his daughter's voice from behind him made him jump

"AAARH. I know I look young but I'm not, you're gonna give me a heart attack"

"Better that than a kick where sun doesn't shine"

"Hey,who educated you?"

"Who educated you?? You believed you were James Bond on a Mission,while following me?"

Tony couldn't help but feel ashamed.

"Little meatball... I'm sorry if I... I just wanted to keep an eye on you,I... I know I'm wrong..."

Tali arched an eyebrow,exactly like Ziva did and Tony had to smile at that.

"Very very wrong " he admitted

"Dad...I know you meant no harm but I'm almost an adult now "

"I know... it's just hard. For a parent "

"It's not like I can't defend myself"

"But what if something happens and..."

"IF something happens" Tali stopped him " and I can't handle it,I'll call you or Ima,easy"

And that hit Tony. When he was Tali's age he would never sound so confident that Senior would be there for him and he was sure Ziva could say the same about Eli. Tali, on the other hand, was so calm,so confident in him and Ziva. He felt a rush of pride, they were not perfect but they were able to be better than their parents.

He must have taken a minute too much thinking about it cause Tali tapped his shoulder

"Sorry,you zoomed out....? Isn't that a little early for senile dementia?"

Tony snorted,she inherited Ziva's and his sassiness.

"Funny,really funny...Tali I'm sorry this won't happen again. You're right,it doesn't matter why I did it"

His daughter surprised him by hugging him

"I know why you did it,how you felt... thank you for that...and for stopping it "

He kissed her hair and she took a step away

"I need to go now,I don't want Ricky seeing you're here. Go away,bye bye. Say thanks to Imaa" and she ran to the table where Ricky was returning from the toilet.

He smiled: she was becoming a woman who had to live her first experiences but it didn't change how she would always be his Little meatball,he hoped Richard will treat her right cause otherwise...otherwise Tali would kick him where sun doesn't shine.

He was about to exit when his phone rang,text from "little Meatball": "buy me pain au Chocolat,pls? :3 you owe me"

He laughed

#ncis #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tali dinozzo #tali david #my fanfiction #first ncis fanfiction #long post

[barbex]

I wish you would write a fic where Anders and Fenris try to go on a cute date together and it goes terribly wrong (bc Kirkwall is the way that it is - attacked by gangs on the way to a restaurant, attacked by bandits while trying to picnic on the coast, some noble ponce makes a dick comment at the theatre and now the boys are ready 2 fight, etc)

Great prompt, thank you! I tweaked it a little for the muse. fenders fic for @dadrunkwriting

---

"Could you come by tonight?"

Fenris' gravely voice pulls Anders out of his musings about where he had seen these pretty flowers before. He stares at Fenris, trying to read his infuriatingly calm face. "Are you talking to me?"

Fenris frowns at him. "Yes, why shouldn't I?"

"You haven't spoken to me in twelve days." 

Fenris raises an eyebrow. "You're keeping count?"

Anders shrugs, avoiding Fenris' skeptical gaze. Maybe it's pathetic how often he thinks of the prickly elf, but yes, he noticed they stopped fighting; he noticed that Fenris treats him differently, albeit still reserved. "It's a habit, I guess. From the Circle. It was important how long someone was gone, or if someone stopped talking."

"I didn't realise." Fenris frowns at his feet. "I had a lot to think about."

"About what?"

"I'll tell you tonight if you would come." Now Fenris looks at him. 

It must be something very personal, Fenris looks almost scared. "Of course, I'll be there after the seventh bell."

"Thank you."

A few minutes after the Chantry bells stop ringing, Anders is in front of Fenris' door, holding his "walking stick" in one hand and clutching his pack of medical supplies under his arm. He wants to be prepared for whatever Fenris will tell him. Who knows what kind of problems he has.

The door opens before he can knock and Fenris gestures at him to come in. Anders has to tear his eyes away from the elf. He's not wearing his usual armor, but tight black leggings and a loose tunic that falls open in a V over his chest. It's enough to make a man lose his head. Or his heart in this case, when Fenris pulls it out of Anders' chest.

"Follow me, please," Fenris says. He sounds strangely stilted, as if he practised what he wants to say. 

"Sure, no problem." There are worse things than following Fenris in his tight leggings, that's for sure.

Fenris leads Anders up the main stairs and then into a small room with another set of stairs, or more like a ladder, narrow and wooden. Anders climbs up after Fenris, clutching his pack to his chest as he struggles with climbing and holding his staff at the same time. 

The ladder leads to an open trapdoor up on the roof. The summer evening is gentle, soft twilight growing over the roofs of the city in pinkish hue. Anders looks over the city, taking a long breath. "What a view. You can see so so far from here, it's amazing."

"Yes, it's my favourite place when it doesn't rain," Fenris says. He gracefully sits down on a thick, colourful blanket. His sword lies by his side and he strokes once over the shining blade before he lights a few candles around the blanket.

Anders eyes the blanket, frowning at the dim candlelight. "If you want to show me something, I'll need more light."

Fenris stares at him, his hands opening and closing in his lap. "That's not... please, sit." 

Anders steps onto the blanket and folds his legs under himself, much less graceful than Fenris did, putting his staff and the medical pack down. He watches Fenris in the low light of the candles and the rising moon. His hair shines in the moonlight, glowing white. He looks nervous, unusually so, his hands fidgeting. Fenris' hands always talk along with his words, and now they seem to try to talk for him.  

"What's going on?" Anders asks after what feels like several minutes of watching Fenris' fists clenching and unclenching. 

"Would you like some wine?" 

Taken aback by the question, Anders shakes his head. "No, I'd rather you would tell me why you wanted to talk to me." 

"Is this not..." Fenris looks into the candle flames with a pained expression. "Is this not adequate?" 

"Adequate for what?" Anders looks around, at the candles, the moonlight, the wine, and are those flowers in an old wine bottle? "Wait. Wait, is this a date?"

Fenris lets out a pained noise. 

"It is!" Anders presses his hand to his mouth to stop himself from doing anything harmful, like laughing out loud. Nothing was clear about this and it is kind of funny, but he'll be damned if he makes Fenris feel bad about it now. How is Fenris to know? How would an abused and escaped slave know how to be romantic, how to court someone? 

Wait. Fenris is courting me? Anders collects his stumbling thoughts and forces himself to focus on Fenris. "It's wonderful. Very —"

Someone jumps onto the roof from one of the neighbouring buildings, knocking over the wine bottle with the flowers. Two people, actually, in cheap, haphazard armor. They stare at them and then, like rabid dogs, snarl and attack without sense or reason.

"Oh, come on," Anders complains, drawing his magic forward to freeze the attackers in a wall of ice. He heaves himself up with the help of his staff and weaves a loose barrier around Fenris and himself. But he doesn't have much to do. With only two attackers, half-frozen from his ice, he could just stand back and watch Fenris cleave through them. But these aren't really capable enemies, aren't they?

"Fenris, wait." 

Fenris skids to a halt, the edge of his sword stopping a finger-width away from the bandit's throat. He looks over his shoulder at Anders, raising his eyebrows in question.

Anders turns to the two terrified people, both of them staring from Fenris' gigantic sword hovering in front of their faces to the fire dancing in Anders' hand. "Kids, what are you doing?"

"We just wanted to..." The young man, barely more than a boy, looks panicked from Fenris to Anders and back. 

"We always take this route," the other attacker, a terribly young girl, says. 

"And now?" Anders asks, gesturing pointedly towards Fenris with the fire in his hand.

"We'll take another route?"

Anders lets the fire die down. "That sounds like a good idea." 

Fenris slowly draws his sword back, keeping it raised in front of him. "Go. Don't ever come back here. And tell your friends."

"Yes, sure, sorry, Serah." The two kids nearly tumble off the roof in their hurry to get away. 

Fenris watches them run, finally lowering his sword. "Why did you stop me?" he asks as he looks at Anders.

"They're just kids." Anders gestures at the sea of high rising roofs around them. "And honestly, this is Hightown, most people living here are rich as fuck because they're bleeding the people of Lowtown and Darktown dry. If these kids want to steal from them, I say, let them."

Fenris frowns, letting his gaze sweep over Hightown. "I never thought... thank you."

"For what?"

Fenris steps back over to Anders. "For stopping me."

Anders grins. "Anytime." 

Fenris smiles shyly and Anders suddenly feels giddy, his heart fluttering like an excited bird in his chest. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to Fenris' cheek. 

"Now," he says, sitting down on the blanket before his knees begin to give out. "I've been told that this is a date. Can I have a glass of wine now, please?" 

The smile on Fenris' face widens. "Yes, of course." He pours red wine into a glass and hands it to Anders. "I was afraid our date is ruined now."

Anders takes a sip, looking at Fenris over the rim of his glass. "After I watched you dance with that giant sword of yours? We're only just starting."

Fenris can blush most beautifully, sometimes.

#fenders #Fenris x Anders #dadrunkwriting #DADWC #dragon age fanfiction #fenders fic #my writing

[gonzo-rella]

Practice Run | Abed Nadir

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Requested by: @softheartedsnake​​  

I JUST SAW THE EPISODE WHERE THEYRE TRYING TO SET ABED UP AAAH 💚💚💚 I need to request or Im going to BURST! What were your thoughts on the episode?? Ok so my request: They’re trying to set him up even though hes not interested in that girl cause he has a (mutual) crush on Reader. And hes practising on them and it gets 👀 out of hand (if they kiss I will be forever in your debt) FEEL HUGGED THANK YOU SM

Relationship(s): Abed Nadir x gn!reader (romantic)

Summary: As the group tries to set him up with a girl who seems to have a crush on him, you agree to help Abed practise flirting, but it soon gets out of hand. 

Warnings: None! (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 1.6k

(A/N: This heavily utilises the script of the actual episode, but I tried to make it my own where possible. I definitely diverged away from the request a tad, but I hope it turned out alright! In case you want to watch the episode this is based off before reading this, it’s season 1 episode 17.)​

You were pretty sure you were nailing concealing your disappointment.

Well, at least you were doing better at that than Abed was at being able to go up to Jenny without looking like he’d just escaped a well-needed psychiatrist appointment. 

You’d managed to avoid being present for the incident in the cafeteria, though Annie and Britta recounted the whole thing to you not long after it happened. From what you could gather, Abed was being himself (albeit an alien version of himself, or something along those lines), something that wasn’t all that appealing to many. But, dammit, he was appealing to you.

Regardless of how much the idea of Abed liking someone else ate you up inside, you begrudgingly agreed to aid in the group’s efforts of setting Abed up with this girl. So, with folded arms, you sat amongst your study group friends on an uncomfortable plastic chair, slouching in your seat like a corpse.

“Okay, Abed,” Annie stated, gesturing with her hands as though she were speaking to a kindergartener. “we know that, normally, you wouldn’t approach a girl, but if you don’t learn how, you won’t get Jenny.”

“Yeah and you got two days. Then I'm going after her.” Pierce added.

“Pierce!” Annie protested, while the others, also aghast, glared at him.

“What? I'm incentivizing him.” Pierce replied defensively. “Also, if she's into Abed, let's face it, anybody could hit that.”

“I understand. I need to change who I am to someone more likeable.” Abed stated, glancing between Annie and Pierce.

“No, no, sweetie, it's not about changing. It's about learning.” Shirley said in her usual sweet tone.

“Exactly!” Annie said with a zealous grin. “And, Y/N agreed to let you practise on them.”

“Yeah. Like a suicidal CPR dummy.” you quipped, already regretting agreeing to this. You weren’t sure that anyone heard your comment, or maybe they had all chosen to ignore it.

Troy got up from his seat. “Let’s try a practice run.” he suggested. 

He looked over at you, then pointed at one of the empty seats beside Abed. “Y/N, you sit here, and be a girl.” He then looked at Abed. “Abed, you take a run at them. Let’s see what you got.”

“Oh, Y/N!” Annie said with a tone of realisation, quickly grabbing a hefty Spanish textbook. Without warning, she tossed it over to you, and, as you flinched and shielded your face with your arms, it landed with a ‘thud’ on your thighs. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you questioned, narrowing your eyes at her in confusion.

“Pretend to read. Then it’ll be more realistic.” Annie insisted.

You rolled your eyes at her and shook your head in dismay, opening the book and staring blankly at it.

“Okay, buddy, let’s go.” Troy said encouragingly to Abed.

“Okay.” Abed agreed. “Hmm...”

You could only tell by the tone of his low hum that Abed was no longer Abed. Whoever he was now would be a surprise to you and everyone else. As your back was turned to him, you didn’t see the confident way in which he narrowed his eyes at you, as though he were an experienced player.

“What are you reading?” ‘Abed’ asked, his voice deeper and cooler than usual. 

You finally turned to look at him. He was stood a few feet behind you, eyeing you in a way that almost made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You thought for a moment, not knowing how to reply, then looked at Annie.

“Line?” you said drily. 

“Pride and Prejudice!” she whisper-yelled.

“Uh...Pride and Prejudice?” you responded, as though you were giving an answer on a game show with minimal confidence. You couldn’t force yourself to look at him any longer as his gaze pierced straight through your eyes, so, in a swift motion, you turned back to looking at the book.

His shoes lightly tapped against the floor, alerting you to the fact that he’d just taken a step closer to you. He then slid into the seat beside yours, his arm resting behind you and his face dangerously close to yours. You cast a sideways-glance at him

“So, you're familiar with two sins.” he remarked. “How about a third?”

“Oh...” Shirley gasped. Troy leaned forward in his seat, mesmerised by Abed’s performance.

Because, that was all it was: a performance. This wasn’t who Abed was. This wasn’t the reason that he occupied your thoughts so often. This wasn’t Abed.

If you weren’t completely smitten with Abed, you probably wouldn’t be scrunching your nose up at whatever he was doing right now, at whoever he was pretending to be. But, you didn’t quite have the heart to tell him you didn’t like this as much as you liked him as he really was.

Abed opened up a cigarette case. 

“I don’t think we’re allowed to smoke in here.” you tried, not wanting to deter him with one of the caustic remarks swimming around in your head.

He snapped the case shut and put it away. As you turned slightly to look at him, he eyed you up and down, face now mere inches away from your own.

“Then you picked the wrong outfit, didn't you?” Abed uttered, voice raspier than ever. 

He used his finger to lift your chin a little. His face began to inch closer and closer towards yours. You were sure that if Annie was in your position right now that she’d forget herself and lean in like he was doing right now, ready to melt into a kiss with ‘Abed’, who you had begun to suspect was actually Don Draper. 

Abed’s eyes closed as your lips were about to make contact, while your own eyes remained open as you wondered whether or not you were actually about to kiss Abed, or if he noticed how stiff and unenthused you seemed.

All of a sudden, you realised Abed’s breath was fanning your face. Your eyes widened and you practically leapt back, turning your head away.

“What’s wrong?” Britta asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Fine. Just...” you stammered out.

“You didn’t like it, did you?” Abed asked, his monotone voice disguising his...disappointment? 

“Uh...” you said, scratching your neck, trying to find a delicate way of saying ‘I kinda hated it’. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t.”

“You didn’t like that?” Annie said incredulously, almost offended.

“So what if I didn’t? It’s not like I’m the one he’s trying to get. Maybe Jenny’s into that...” you trailed off, debating whether or not you should finish your sentence. “but it doesn’t matter if anyone likes that. It doesn’t mean she’d be into Abed.”

You turned to Abed. “Abed, you deserve to find someone who can appreciate you for you, not the ‘you’ you become when you play the part of one of your cool TV guys.” 

“Oh, come on, don’t give him false hope. Say what you want about what I tell the kid, but that’s just cruel. Who the hell would want him when he’s just himself?” Pierce flippantly remarked. Britta, Troy, Annie and Shirley all glared at him. You, on the other hand, just stared blankly at the old man.

Time seemed slow in that moment, or perhaps your mind was just racing. This was your window, your cue to tell Abed everything, the moment you were supposed to declare your love for him. But, how selfish would you be to put Abed in such an awkward position, especially in front of most of your friends?

“Um...me?” you said, almost as though it were a hesitant suggestion or question, instantly regretting it when everyone suddenly turned to look at you, Abed included.

“Aw!” Shirley and Annie cooed in unison.

“If you like me, then why didn’t you want me to kiss you?” Abed asked.

You were surprised at the lack of rejection, and it showed with your hesitance as you responded.

“Because,” you replied, “I want to kiss you, not an admittedly spot-on impression of Don Draper.”

“Aw!” Shirley and Annie cooed again.

“Then...why haven’t you kissed me before?” Abed asked.

“It’s creepy to just kiss people without asking first,” you answered. “especially when they don’t like you like how you like them.”

“But, I do like you how you like me.” Abed stated, almost puzzled.

“Well, I didn’t know that.” you responded simply. “But, even if I did, I still wouldn’t kiss you, because the idea of asking you to kiss me makes me want to implode.”

Your cheeks were burning at this point, and you wished that everyone would leave. You didn’t entirely mind the whole imploding idea either. It actually seemed quite nice.

“Hey, uh, guys, how about we let these two talk this whole thing over?” Britta suggested, attempting to herd the spectators out of the room.

“Can we listen through the door?” Annie whispered, though you heard it perfectly well.

Britta sighed. “As long as you’re quiet.” she muttered in response.

With that, the door closed behind your friends, and you assumed they remained by the door to eavesdrop.

“If I asked you if I could kiss you, what would you say?” Abed asked, tone very direct.

“If you ask me,” you answered slowly. “I’ll say yes.”

“Alright, then, can I kiss you?” Abed requested without hesitation.

“Yes.” you answered, unable to supress the grin that formed at his words.

You shuffled over to the seat you had leapt out of. Your eyes flickered between Abed’s eyes and lips as you both gradually leaned in. 

You couldn’t exactly imagine the Abed you knew and had feelings for grabbing you and kissing you roughly and passionately, like you were love interests in an erotic novel aimed at bored housewives, but then again you weren’t quite sure what to expect from a kiss with Abed, the real Abed.

Soon enough, your lips were on his, and you hesitantly rested your hands on Abed’s face. You could say with certainty that you’d much rather kiss your Abed over Don Draper, no matter how good the impression was.

#abed nadir x reader #abed nadir #annie edison #troy barnes #britta perry #x reader #community #community nbc #annie edison x reader #troy barnes x reader #britta perry x reader #one-shot #romantic #gender neutral!reader #gn!reader

[bonniebird]

Anthony x Fem!Reader

Requested by anon

Masterpost

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You watched curiously as the newcomer was swarmed and then abandoned as a quick whisper was sent round the room. You tried your best to catch a whisper of the gossip. He seemed attractive enough. He had a title too. He caught your eye and you shared a moment across the room. By the time he could come your way you found yourself shooed away by your mother.

Spotting the Bridgertons in one corner you decided to make your way to them. If someone knew something about anything. It would be Eloise. Crossing the room with a practise swiftness, avoiding the grabbing demand of older suitors that found themselves so unwanted they would need to gather in the middle of the room and sweep up any unsuspecting potential bride who was not lithe enough on her feet.

You reached Eloise as you stretched out her grasp for you as if you were lost at sea and she sat in the only lifeboat.

“Who is the new one?” Eloise asked you.

“If you do not know then how would I know. Eloise you and your siblings are my prime source of information. Mother does not want me to associate with him. What does yours say of him?” You asked. Eloise leant round you and curiously watched as your mother beckoned Lady Bridgerton over and frantically whispered to her. As she watched the mother hens cluck you caught sight of Anthony. Daphne was at Simon’s side and was excusing herself to talk with a friend. Both men looked as if they knew very well who had entered the proverbial ring.

“I have a feeling that your brother may know.” You said. Eloise glanced over at Anthony.

“That weasel! He does know something. You go to him and find what you can. I shall go and ask Pen.” Eloise fled your side and moved with a firm march towards Penelope who was at the edge of the commotion watching with Colin. You hesitated but saw Nigel Berbrooke heading your way. With a new motivation to your step you hurried towards Anthony. 

“What do you know?” You asked curiously as you gestured gracefully to Daphne who took a watchful position with her friend not too far away so as to vouch for you should someone begin to natter about you and Anthony.

“I know many things.” ANthony answered.

“Hmm. I doubt that. A few maybe.” You muttered and smiled when he scoffed.

“Oh I am certain that I know some things that you do not.” Anthony said confidently.

“Yes. You know who that is don't you?” You said in a quizzical but certain tone. Anthony hesitated before answering. Simon was clearly amused by your question but stayed silent. Taking a long sip from his drink.

“I may have seen him a few times at the Gentleman’s club.” He admitted. 

“He seemed rather handsome. Who would mother not want for me to be married to a handsome young man with a title?” You asked. Anthony glanced at Simon who was chuckling.

“He is better known for the things they do on the mattress.” Anthony said after some thought.”

“Sleeping? He is well known for sleeping?” You asked. Simon’s laughter was now causing people to stare.

“Yes! He is, according to the rumour, the most excellent sleeper. He can encourage anyone to sleep.” Simon teased.

“You know if you will not tell me then I will have Benedict tell me.” You warned as you realised that he was teasing you.

“If I tell you I will be in trouble.” Anthony said.

“That sounds terrible for you.” You said with a smile.

“He is rather passionate about sleeping. His partners find him irresistible but he never settles down with them.” He said cripticly. You glanced at Daphne who turned quickly and became suddenly engrossed with studying a rather ugly statue near her. “I will say nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” You asked. He nodded firmly and you nodded, planning to take the information to Eloise and compare with what she had gotten from her brothers. As you left her the newcomer approached you. He went to reach for your dance card that hung around your wrist and bow politely but before he could Anthony had taken you by the arm and was leading you towards the mothers who had been joined by Lady Danbury.

“Daphne do you not think it wise to take (Y/N) to find a drink?” He said firmly. The newcomer opened his mouth to object but Simon appeared on one side of Anthony while Benedict and Colin hurried over. Eloise was beaming by the drinks table, hungry for the information and drama that you’d gathered or caused. Daphne took you by the arm, gently, and moved you through the room, steering you towards Eloise and Penelope.

“This is going to be in the gossip papers tomorrow. All I was trying to do was avoid trouble.” You mumbled. Eloise filled you in on the news that several young ladies had been seduced and sent away only to return to the next season always with new siblings who looked remarkably like them. Daphne gasped when appropriate and Penelope’s eyes were so wide that you thought they might fall out of her head. You added what Anthony had said. Penelope turned to you and clutched your arm.

“It was a good turn of fortune that Anthony came to your rescue. He sounds like some crazed beast that lusts for young women! It was certainly not your own fault. I hope everyone knows how Anthony came to your rescue.” Penelope said the last part rather loudly and seemed satisfied that the eavesdroppers that you’d collected had heard. She had whispered the worst lust as if it was the most unsavoury tasting thing that had ever graced her own lips.

“I will have to thank him tomorrow when we promenade.” You had ment it somewhat sarcastically but Pen was off, bustling through the crowd with Eloise after her. You and Daphne fetched your drinks and watched the duel of words that went between Anthony and the newcomer.

“What if you end up being the one for him?” Daphne said.

“I don’t think I would mind.” You muttered. Simon glanced her way and they seemed to share a look you couldn’t decipher because at her slight nod Simon insisted that Anthony calm and the small group split, the Bridgerton men and Simon headed over to the trio of women watching everything going on. Lady Bridgerton seemed to be scolding Anthony’s behaviour.

“Well. I certainly hope that Anthony doesn’t mind either. He seems of the opinion that some things he likes should be put aside and saved. Hopefully he does not save them for too long.” You frowned at her, unsure what she meant. Watching her as you went over what she said again in your mind, you missed Anthony's gaze falling on you and lingering for a longer moment than usual.

Anthony Bridgerton Tags:

@lisainhell @spiderwebs-blog @gryffindorqueensworld @rockyrascal @twerp8999 @lovesanimals0000 @theletterhart @sarcasm-n-insomnia @kaylantus @ssa--holmes @skinny-bitch-juice @supernatural-wolfie @yougottalovefandoms @alwaysadreamingoptimist @love1deandra @archaeologydigit @im-eating-rn @bucketbunny @littlefreakingfangirl @thebookisbtr @hardladyheart @gillybear17 @lchufflepuffcorn

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bonniebird #bridgerton

[neonun-au]

opening night | vernon chwe

pairing: vernon x reader genre: pure fluff, friends to lovers, musical au warnings: nothing word count: 1.6k

for @followmylane 💐 hey tay! it's me, your carat admirer hehe im sorry it took me a while to get this out. it has been fun chatting with and getting to know you over this little snatch of time here, and i really hope you enjoy this little fic hehe :))

The sounds of the audience as they file into their seats from the entrance filters out to you as you stand backstage, fingers twisting around each other as the nerves grow with each passing second.

Opening night was always brimming with so much emotion.

The feeling of anticipation that had been building up in yourself and in the rest of the cast and production over months of rehearsals was palpable. Each night inevitably ended in everyone gathering together at some unsuspecting restaurant, (loudly) discussing what the best parts of the show were going to be. You could almost taste the excitement in the air—flavoured with concession stand popcorn and fountain soda.

The worries of the unknown that hummed through everyone involved. Regardless of how prepared you felt–how much practise you did, how many times props had been tested and re-tested–there was still always a chance that something might go wrong. It coated the collective anticipation with a thick veneer of anxiety while you waited for the audience to settle into their seats for the show and wouldn’t dissipate until you were bowing, hand in hand on stage, with the rest of the cast at the end of the night.

You lived for these moments. For the soft, humming glee that infected the cast as you got your makeup done and costumes fitted. The adrenaline rush that coursed through your veins at the sound of the band rehearsal. Those few minutes of tense silence just before the curtain lifted for the first act. You swore that there was nothing more terrifying or exciting than those few moments.

But tonight there was something else brimming under the surface for you. A thought more than a feeling. Tinged greyer and greyer with a hint of distress as the seconds ticked down to showtime–’what if he doesn’t show up?’

You hadn’t ever invited Vernon to one of your shows before–due mostly to scheduling conflicts, distance, and a desire to keep him as far away from any potential embarrassment on your part as possible. Finally though, after years of putting it off, you bit the bullet. He was back from university for the summer, aimlessly wandering around the town you both grew up in, and you had finally found yourself in a role that wasn’t merely ‘background character #2’. There was no excuse not to invite him.

“10 minutes to curtain everyone!” You hear the voice of your stage manager as it chirps through your thoughts, pulling you back into the present moment.

“Is he here?” Seokmin asks, leaning over next to you to peer through the curtains and into the steadily growing audience. You feel the velvet of his costume brush against you as he does so.

“I haven’t seen him,” you reply, trying your best to hold back the sigh of disappointment that threatens to escape your throat.

“Maybe he’s just running late?” Seokmin drops the curtain, turning to you with an optimistic grin. You nod and return the gesture with your own half-hearted smile before turning your gaze back towards the crowd.

Vernon was someone that did things in his own time. This was a fact you had come to know (and mostly love) over the many years you had been friends. He took his time, slept whenever, and never felt the need to hold himself to a tight schedule or routine unless he was being paid to do so.

But he was always there for the important stuff.

That time you broke your leg in middle school and he biked from his house all the way to yours with a half-eaten bag of chips and your favourite chocolate bar.

After your first break up in high school, when you called him crying at 10:45pm from the park near your house and he showed up with a speed you didn’t know he was capable of.

When you got accepted to university in a different city from him and you weren’t sure what that was going to mean for the future of your friendship. You hadn’t realised until that moment how much you had depended on him. He was a pillar in your life from childhood. A steady and stable force that kept you as grounded as you possibly could be while your head was always floating in the clouds.

And again after your second break up in uni; when he drove an hour out of his way and took you silently (and immediately) to the nearest Denny’s to fill your face with as many pancakes as you wanted. It was that moment, finally after years, that you realised maybe you depended on him as more than a friend after all. Maybe these break ups were going to remain inevitable until you could fully admit everything you had been feeling towards your best friend. It dawned on you, like a ray of sunlight peaking through grey clouds, as you watched him stare blank-faced and exhausted into a pool of maple syrup collecting on his plate and you couldn’t help but laugh. At him. At you. At all of it. At how all of your worries about not still being friends were for naught as he sat across from you at 1:00am in a sticky, red booth.

Extending the invitation for him to come to your first show was meant to be you dipping your toes into the water of possibility. You didn’t know it when you had given him the ticket–just how much you were anticipating him seeing this side of you. Someone vibrant and alive–doing something you loved. The best version of yourself that you could offer him.

“5 minutes to curtain,” the stage manager calls out, sending another dagger of despair deep into your heart with every word. You had thought this might be another one of the ‘important stuff’. It was for you. But maybe that feeling only ran in one direction.

“Don’t worry,” Seokmin smiles, clapping a solid, gloved hand on your shoulder, “he’ll be here.”

“It’s fine,” you finally let the curtain fall completely. Hope fading as you turn and face Seokmin with as bright of a smile as you can manage. “There will be more shows,” the words feel bitter as you speak them out loud.

“Come on,” he says, nodding towards the dressing rooms, “we have a few finishing touches.” You nod and follow behind him as he weaves through production assistants and other cast members waiting in the wings until he stops dead in his tracks. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” you ask, confusion taking over as you glance around.

“You can’t be in here!” a panicked voice cries out through the wings and you turn towards it immediately.

You feel your heart soar before you even see him.

And when he finally does appear–brown hair tousled and windswept, hands clutching a half-destroyed bouquet of flowers–you think your heart might burst entirely out of your chest.

“Vernon,” you whisper, hiking up your skirts and all but running towards him at the edge of the stage entrance. “What are you doing back here?”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he stops at the top of the stairs–barred from entry mostly by the body of one of your production assistants as he tries to nudge him back out into the hallway.

“Did you run here?”

“Yeah,” he nods, frantically trying to catch his breath.

“Wow,” you laugh, eyes wide with surprise at the rare sight, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run in my life.”

“I wanted to wish you luck,” he offers you a lopsided smile before immediately grimacing and correcting himself, “or break a leg or whatever I’m supposed to say. Sorry.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, feeling all of the emotions of the night building to a crescendo inside of you as you lock eyes with him.

“2 minutes to curtain! Places!”

“I guess I have to go,” he chuckles, glancing at the increasingly annoyed assistant barring the way. “Good lu–break a leg,” he thrusts the bouquet of flowers towards you before stepping back down the stairs and you watch dumbstruck as he leaves.

“Thank god,” the frantic production hand next to you sighs, “I’ll put the flowers in the dressing room. You get in place, the show is about to start.”

You turn to head back into the wings but Vernon’s face won’t leave your mind. On a whim you spin around and race down the steps after him–buoyed by a wave of adrenaline as it courses through you and hums at the edges of your body. “Vernon!” you shout, catching him just outside the door and flinging yourself unceremoniously into his arms.

He lets out a soft ‘whoa’ at the sudden impact and before you can stop yourself you let your soaring heart guide your lips to his.

It only takes a second for him to right himself. To wrap his arms around you and pull you in deeper. He returns the kiss in earnest and you swear there is no feeling that could beat this moment. Not even the terrifying excitement of a first show.

Someone calls your name backstage and you tear yourself away from him, smiling up at the slightly dazed expression on his face before turning and running back into the wings just in time for the band to strike up the overture.

The show ends that night in a flurry of applause and flowers. Exhilaration buzzes through the cast and crew as everyone changes out of costume, wipes off make-up, and discusses the success of the show.

The joy continues to buzz through you as you step out into the cold night air and see Vernon leaning up against a lamppost. He holds his hand out to you as you approach and you take it happily, grateful for the ease in which you slip into a place that maybe you were always meant to be in together.

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