#plus even though these take a while it's almost therapeutic in a way

[darlingofvalyria]

❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

 You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes.  "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

 "He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

 "If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

 "Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

 "I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond angst #aemond x reader #hotd angst #aemond x you #hotd fanfiction #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒 #tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

[lyney-s-bitch]

a/n: surpriseee (not so much but shh), once more dedicated to @sugarkage😌♥️

———

Nagi Seishiro - spicy hcs || 18+

• Nagi is definitely a switch - he’s neither particularly dominant nor particularly submissive, he’s just lazy but also needy af, so it all comes down to his current mood

• he will fully expect and demand for you to "spoil" him, but it’s not like he would ask you to do anything for him specifically - he merely loves watching you use his body for your own pleasure, that’s all he wants and needs

• so yes, you will have to be the one to take the initiative most of the time, but once you get him riled up enough, he will definitely help you and himself out

• if he’s feeling a bit mean though, he will cross his arms behind his head and not lift a finger, only watching attentively as you struggle on top of him, his eyes half-lidded and hair even messier than usual

• "So so pretty…" is what he mumbles almost to himself, his hands ghosting along your sides before gripping your ass, giving it a tight squeeze before growling "More… need more, princess"

• by now your legs are probably close to giving out, and he will most likely push you to that exact limit before finally taking over, complaining about it being such a hassle

• his body, however, tells a very different story: he’s breathing heavily, trembling ever so slightly from both excitement and pleasure, his voice low and practically dripping with lust (btw unless you tell him, he is absolutely oblivious to the effect it has on you… he will notice but he won’t be able to pinpoint why you squirmed like that all of a sudden)

• Nagi adores your boobs; not only in a dirty way though, he just loves using them as pillow (or as hand-warmers if needed, even in public, he dgaf) and burying his face in them - it’s definitely a plus for him if you’re more on the cushiony side, but not a necessity

• he neither puts any effort into dirty talking, nor into holding back anything - everything he says and all the noises he makes express exactly what he thinks/feels in that very moment (which makes it even hotter tbh)

• he is a total sucker for cockwarming, especially while the two of you are gaming; it will probably end up turning into a competition in itself, making it a matter of who can make the other lose focus first

• if he’s the only one gaming though and you‘re the one feeling needy and going up to him, he will allow you to help yourself and just take him in for a bit, telling you "I’m almost done with this round princess, I’ll take good care of you after, 'kay?"

• if you’re being a good girl, he will reward you by giving you exactly what you’ve been craving once he’s done, but if you keep moving around and distracting him… you’re on your own after LOL

• even if you apologize and assure him you’ll behave, he will literally pull out and tell you to finish yourself, going back to his game and even ignoring his own hard-on for the time being

• so yeah don’t test him too much, he usually has nearly zero tolerance for being teased lmao

• oh, but have I mentioned yet that he kinda enjoys eating you out? yes, he is lazy and can’t be bothered with most things, but it’s borderline therapeutic for him to just bury his head between your thighs, especially after a long day

• I feel like he’s just naturally good at it, just like with soccer - has no clue what he’s doing but it works, clueless genius (it’s almost frustrating, really)

• as you might’ve guessed though… that by far doesn’t mean he’ll always put effort into it - more often than not he’ll just go at it for a bit before literally dozing off between your legs, it’s kinda cute but also hella frustrating (for obvious reasons), but if you end up dozing off too, you might just get woken up to a nice surprise

#I kinda had more but I didn’t wanna blow this outta proportion LMAO #btw #requests are still open sweeties #just sayin #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk nagi #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you

[shzmluvrs]

Doing Billy and Freddy's makeup headcanons? 😽

Omg, your mind, anon...!! Plz I-... because we deserve Bill and Freddy with liner, idc💅🏽. They're such pretty boys, like, we can't let their faces go to waste...

~ Star✨️

E.L.F.

(Eyes Lips Face, for those who don't know)

Prompt: Just how it would go/be like if you were to do Freddy and Billy's makeup (in my humble opinion). Yassifying them, if you will.

Timeline: Whatever fits best for you🫶🏽

TW/Content: None (cursing, tho)⚡️But srsly, that's it

Reader: Non-Specified! Any Pronouns! Implied Fem, tho, in some bits!

Requested By: Anon

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I'm just gonna do these in the order you requested them in, so starting off first with...

Billy -

He... doesn't hate it, but he doesn't really enjoy it either. It's one of those things where if he says no, you just have to accept it. There's no convincing him. But, if he's all like, "Mmm..." "Aahh..." "I dunno" "Wellll..." then definitely go for it.

Bother, pester, and beg him, and he'll eventually fold. He has limits, still, though. He won't let you do full face, none of that foundation, primer, no. None of that shit.

The most he'll let you do is some eyeliner, maybe mess with/shape his brows a bit, some gloss... little things like that. But it's all good because he's got a pretty face anyways, so more often than not, it's just a fun activity to do that keeps you busy and allows the two of you to spend time with each other.

Not to mention, (if he let's you) bold eyeliner looks really bring out that inner emo he denies he has.

(Like, sir, you literally were this🤏🏽 close to emo hair in the first movie, I don't wanna hear it🙄✋🏽). Speaking of hair, he'll actually let you tie it up if it's in the way. He doesn't like to inconvenience you, and the last thing he wants is you messing up his face, trying to "yassify" him.

Anyways, he likes to deny how pretty it makes him look and why it "takes so long" to be over with, and complain about how the "poking and proding hurts"...

Set his ass in front of the mirror and peep how fast the boy goes quiet and just s t a r e s at himself lmao.

He won't admit it, but he does think your work is very pretty😙✨️.

Plus, on the occasions where you finally get to convince him, a lot of the times, you'll straddle his waist and he just gets to hold you and focus on all of your already beautiful features while you spruce him up, and he enjoys it a lot because you never seem to notice nor try to hide yourself.

Gets very flustered very fast when you get super close to his face (often to do brows, liner, and/or mascara). Like, literally panics. Should he touch/hold your face (lovingly)? Compliment you? Kiss you? So many options, but he never goes through with them unless you initiate😭. But it works out well because you can usually tell.

Aka, Billy is doing puppy eyes without realizing it, and it's making you laugh and unable to focus🥴🫶🏽.

4.5 times out of 10, he'll let you put makeup on.

Freddy -

It's not his MOST favorite activity ever either, but he's a lot more tolerable of it than Billy is.

I'm talking, the boy will let you go ahead and do full face, BUT ONLY if he gets to stay in the comfort of his own room. Otherwise, it's just a couple of things he's willing to show off to anyone other than you or the mirror/camera.

Like mascara! He actually likes the way it makes his eyelashes look, he says it reminds him of how spiders look (you always remind him how that's not the point/goal but he ain't listening lmao).

He hates wearing any type of lipstick or gloss. He doesn't like the greasy, slippery feeling and he'll just lick it all off anyways, even if it does taste good. Lip plumper is a solid no-no, that shit burns and he'll deadass cry. The most he'll do is chapstick bc he doesn't like the feeling of chapped lips either.

Lovesss having his brows done (almost therapeutic), and he enjoys the way eyeliner looks. Lined neatly, though, not smudged. Billy's the one who's more into the smudgey stuff, not the perfect wings (emo🫵🏽!!).

It doesn't take much to convince him to do his makeup, but he's squirmy and doesn't sit still for very long, so regardless of compliance, it's still a whole task/chore fr. Again, straddling him is a good way to keep him in place, but that won't stop him from constantly trying to peer over and around you, look at his phone, shake hair out of his face (bc god forbid you tie it up🙄), all things that be ruining your work mid-way through.

No matter what you do, though, he always loves your work. Finds specific things to compliment and makes notes on what actually enhances his features and what doesn't. Super into it, more than likely because of the artist in him (I know we all saw his sketchbook in the movie, don't cap).

I wouldn't be surprised if Freddy would be cool with you actually painting his face and giving him wild looks. Would probably prefer that over you trying to yassify him and make him a pretty-boy (not to say that he alr isn't one, but ykwim).

7 times out of 10, Freddy will let you do his makeup.

If I had gone on any longer for either of them, I would've started writing FRfr🤭. But I hope you enjoyed what's written right here💕.

~ Star✨️

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#shazam #dc comics #shazamfuryofthegods #shazamedit #billybatsonshazam #captain marvel #dcfanfics #shazam fotg #billybatson #freddyfreeman #freddyfreemanfanfiction #freddyfreemanshazam #billybatsonimagine #billybatsonxreader #freddyfreemanxreader #freddyfreemanimagine #moon&star #shazam fury of the gods #dceuimagines #shazamfotg #shazam fanfic #shazam2 #shazamfuryofthegodsxreader #shazamxreader #dcimagines #dc x reader #billybatsonicons #freddyfreemanicons #makeup #shazam family

[metalbended]

Lyoko kids + phones >> Jeremie

#code lyoko #cl:sm #mine #did I deliver or what #I said I'd make profiles and I did #this is a thing I'll occasionally be doing #plus even though these take a while it's almost therapeutic in a way

[five-rivers]

Hobbies

Phic phight! @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

A series of vignettes about Danny having various hobbies.

(Master the Orb)

Danny exhaled slowly as the ice built up between his hands.  Each new layer glittered in the ghostlight cast by the overhead ambient ectoplasm, embedding complex patterns in the overall piece as new layers built up over it.

“Very good, Great One,” rumbled Frostbite behind his shoulder.  “Your control has improved immensely.”

Danny inhaled equally slowly, examining his work so far but not adding to it quite yet.  “I don’t know.  It looks a little lopsided.”

“Mmm, it looks fine to me.  Especially for such an early attempt.”

Danny sighed, exhaling the ice he had built up with his breath.  “So, it is lopsided.”

“Consider it practice,” said Frostbite, encouragingly. “It takes time to master art of any kind.”

“Humans do ice sculpture, too,” mumbled Danny. “They get really good, too.  I’ve seen pictures.  And videos.  They don’t even have ice powers.”  He rubbed his thumb over the surface, smoothing over a slightly rougher patch.

“That may be true,” said Frostbite, “but, again, you just started, Great One.  You have only had your powers for a little while.  Give yourself some support.”

Danny shrugged.  “I guess it isn’t something my life depends on, so I can relax about it.” He built up another layer of ice. “This is oddly therapeutic, and I don’t say therapeutic lightly.  You know Jazz.”

“I do indeed,” said Frostbite, somewhat ruefully, head half-bowed.  

Jazz could be a force of nature, even more so than ice powers.

He held the ice orb up to the light.  It caught on the patterns he had placed there. Fractals were the easiest.  He was hoping that if he got better, he’d be able to make real sculptures with patterns in them, instead of just orbs.  

But, first, he had to master the orb.  Just like how when drawing you had to do circles first.  Circle. Orb.

Ooorb.  Yep.  

The controlled application of ice.  The evenness of the internal patterns.  The solidity, density, and durability.  

His orb was… not very orblike, despite what Frostbite said.  Frostbite probably thought he was making so flat on purpose.  

Yeah.  He was terrible at this.  

He was having fun, though.  

.

.

 (Furnace)

“You’re taking up glass blowing?” asked Tucker, surprised.

“Yeah?  Is there a problem?” asked Danny, reaching over to stop his friend from accidentally drawing a line of orange sharpie across his poster on the themes in Macbeth.

“No!” said Tucker, quickly.  “But, like, why?  It just seems… unlike you.”

“Exactly,” said Danny, nodding sharply.  “It has absolutely nothing to do with my powers and nothing to do with my family.  Plus, I had a coupon.”

“For glass blowing?”

“It was a groupon,” said Danny.  “For making Christmas tree ornaments.  I’m going to do it with Jazz.”

“But, Danny,” said Sam, looking over from where she was working on her own poster about Twelfth Night, “glass blowing, uh, involves a lot of heat.”

“Sure?”

“Danny, you have an ice core.”

“Ah,” said Danny.  “Well.   I’ve got to use that groupon.  If it doesn’t work out, it’s only the once, right?”

.

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, wringing sweat out of his t-shirt.  “That was awesome!”  He giggled to himself and peaked into the annealer again.  “So awesome!”

“Uh huh,” said Jazz.  Her attempts had been… rather less successful than Danny’s, partially because she was trying so hard to make them perfect.  But she had managed a few little baubles, nonetheless.  “I think these’ll all be good for the tree. Assuming we get one.”

“And it isn’t set on fire.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a bad year.”

He squeaked open the annealer again, only closing it when the instructor lightly scolded him.  “They’re so terrible and lopsided,” said Danny.  

“Hey,” said Jazz.  “Mine are fine.”

“I know!  I was talking about mine.”

“Ah, okay then.  I agree.”

“You aren’t supposed to agree.”

“What, you want me to lie?  And after you said it first?”

“No,” said Danny.  “But you could be nicer about it.”

“I’m your sister, what do you expect?”

.

.

 (Lung Capacity)

Danny let the last note trail off to complete silence. He stared apprehensively at the assembled student body.  Curse Mr. Lancer’s extra credit talent show assignment.  Any minute now, they’d start laughing at him.  

What was he thinking?  He’d just watched a few YouTube tutorials on breath control, and he thought he could come up here and sing in front of people?  He was a moron, and—

Sam and Tucker started cheering wildly, followed rapidly by everyone else in the gym.  

Okay.  What?

Sam and Tucker, following impulses known only to overexcited teenagers, swarmed up the stage and attacking Danny.  

“Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” demanded Sam.  

“When did you learn?” asked Tucker, doing his level best to noogie Danny.  “Why did you learn?”

“I wanted to improve my, you know, wail,” muttered Danny, “and all the breath control YouTube videos either had to do with diving or singing, so…”  He did a little head wiggle to illustrate his point and also dislodge Tucker.  

“I just can’t believe you kept this a secret from us,” said Sam.  

Danny snorted and took a sort of half bow before attempting to leave the stage.  “My dudes, I am basically made of secrets.”

“Encore!” screamed someone who clearly hated him.  

“Oh, no,” said Danny, bracing himself against Sam and Tucker who were pushing him back into the middle of the stage.  “No encore.  I don’t do encores.”

But now people were chanting.  Chanting.  

“Come on, Danny,” said Tucker.  “Just once!”

“Yeah, these are your fifteen minutes of fame!”

“I had those already!  Multiple times!”

“That was Poindexter.”

“And now it can be you.”

Danny reluctantly took the microphone back off the stand.

.

.

 (Letterhead)

The ink was thick, almost creamy, and paint-like. It was the ectoplasm mix, which also gave it a rich, rosy glow.  

Danny was practicing ghost calligraphy.  Well, one particular subset of ghost calligraphy, one which put special emphasis on the color of the letters as well as how they fit together.  

It was a totally useless hobby.  But it was… not exactly calming.  No.  He’d gotten way too angry about poorly formed arcs and crooked lines a couple of times.  So. Yeah.  Not calming.  But… meditative.  Meditative. And there was something satisfying about seeing the finished product.  

Plus, if he framed his better finished work, they made for good presents for weirdo ghosts.

“You misspelled this,” drawled Ghost Writer.  

“No, I didn’t.”

“Keuwii only has one kei.”

“This is only one kei.”

“What’s this, then?”

“It’s a flourish.”

“A flourish.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Everyone’s a critic.  If you don’t want it—”

“I didn’t say that.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.  

Ghost Writer made a show of rolling his eyes. “Very well.  Do you have one for my half-brother Randy.  Perhaps one that says something along the lines of ‘idiot?’”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

.

.

 (Babies on Fire)

“Danny,” said Jazz.  “What are you doing up at three in the morning with a lighter? And… yarn?  Is that yarn?”

“Dad wanted me to learn how to sew,” said Danny, “but I don’t like needles, not the sharp ones, anyway.”

“You get stitches every other week,” pointed out Jazz.

“Exactly,” said Danny, gesturing with the lighter.  “So, I decided to look into, you know, knitting. And I was on knitting websites, and having, you know, a pretty good time with that, but then I found out about the babies.”

“The babies.”

“The babies,” said Danny, seriously.  “And the blankets that are on fire.  It depends on the yarn, you see.  If the yarn is the wrong kind of yarn, if it catches on fire, the blanket can melt onto the baby.  It’s terrible.  Just terrible.”

“I kind of think that if the blanket is on fire you have bigger problems,” said Jazz.  She took a step closer to her obviously insane younger brother.  “Are you… testing the yarn?”

“I have to, Jazz.  It’s for the babies.”

“Alright,” said Jazz.  “You are going to limit it to just the yarn in our house, right?”

“But we don’t have any babies.”

“Okay, that didn’t answer my question, but, like…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Since we don’t have any babies here, why are you testing the yarn?”

“Because we might have babies here in the future,” said Danny.  “Or I might knit something and give it to someone as a gift and then they give it to their baby.  Oh my gosh, I’d feel so guilty.”

“I’d be more worried about the toxic waste in our basement,” said Jazz, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to a sleep-deprived half-ghost on the edge of an Obsession-fueled breakdown.  Danny vanished in a blur, trailing yarn behind him. Jazz, who had only gotten up for a glass of water, cursed under her breath.

.

.

 (Before the Ball)

“I’m so, so sorry, Dora,” said Danny, holding back something adjacent to laughter.  

Dora laughed, more openly.  “It is fine, Sir Phantom.  Even now, you are better than my brother.”

“Am I really?  Your brother?  Who was raised to do this?”

“Well,” said Dora, letting go and stepping back out of the range of Danny’s feet.  Which were, evidently, both left feet.  “No, I’m afraid, but it is amusing to say, isn’t it?”  She pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing more laughter.  

“Yeah, it is,” admitted Danny.  

“In any case, you are far more graceful concerning your mistakes than he ever was.  More gallant. A better representative of chivalry altogether.”  She patted the shoulders of his shirt.  

“Thanks,” said Danny.  “Do you think that I’ll be, uh, ready in time for the party?”

“It’s more than a party,” said Dora.  “You’re being officially knighted.  You’ll be a peer of the realm.”

“Aha,” said Danny.  “Yeah.  I don’t… what?  Really? That’s a thing?”

“You thought I was joking?”

“No,” said Danny, drawing out the word.  He had, in fact, thought she was joking and only accepted her offer to teach him how to dance because he thought it sounded like fun and like it might take his mind off his problems.  “Of course not.  So. Dancing.  Important.  For first impressions?”

“Everyone already knows you, Phantom,” said the knight assigned as Dora’s bodyguard.  “But dancing is surprisingly useful for swordplay.  Which you need all the help you can get at.”

“You said I was getting better.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Ouch.”

.

.

 (Time)

“I don’t have time for a hobby,” complained Danny through the Fenton Phones.  “Maybe if the ghosts let up a bit—” He zapped one of said ghosts.  

“Danny, are you fighting ghosts right now?”

“Yeah.  That’s my point.”

“Oh my god, get off the phone.”

“No way!  This is the only time I can call you, what with all of your classes.”

“Danny…” said Jazz, clearly exasperated.  He took advantage of the lull in the conversation to blast a few more ghosts.  

“I’m fine Jazz.”

“You are not fine.  You are, like, ten thousand miles away from fine.  When was the last time you even slept through the night?”

“Eh,” said Danny.  “Recently?”

“You need to take more time for yourself.”

Danny sighed and captured the last ghost.  “Maybe catching ghosts is my hobby.”

“Catching ghosts is your self-imposed penance for doing something that isn’t even your fault.  Not a hobby.”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll talk to you on Wednesday, same time.”

“Danny, don’t—”

He hung up.  

“Ugh,” said Danny.  “I guess I need to find a hobby.  Have to find time to find a hobby.”

“Perhaps I could be of help.”

“Ah!”  Danny jolted forward, dropping his phone.  

Clockwork gestured with one hand, and the phone dropped back into Danny’s hands from above.  

“Ohhh my ghost, why are you here?”

“You were just talking about finding time.  And now I’m here.”

“Good timing, I guess?”

“Only the best,” said Clockwork, evenly.  “But we were speaking of hobbies.  Might I suggest ice sculpture?  Your friends in the Far Frozen would be more than happy to teach you...”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

I wanna wrap Hange up in a blanket and tell them they are doing their best 😢 if you don’t mind can you write Hange and reader taking a bath together and it being fluffy.

I just know they reek to high hell

Still love 'em though

Soft

(Zoe Hange x Reader)

AU: Unspecified

Warnings: None

Category: Fluff

Summary: Finally fed up with Hange's poor hygiene, their S/O forces them to bathe with them. Chaos ensues.

Words: 1.6K

"Y/nnnnnnn!"

"No."

"But c'mon!" Hange whined, throwing their arms around your shoulders. You quickly pushed them off, walking away in an act of defiance, despite the little voice in the back of your head telling you to give in to their demands.

"Hange, you reek." You scoff, crossing your arms and giving them a disapproving look. They had finally finished their long day of work, and immediately went up to you for your usual nighttime cuddles, but you had refused—they hadn't bathed in over a month at this point, and you were starting to get sick of it. It wasn't even the actual smell, more so just a concern for your lover's lack of hygiene.

"Just for tonight?" They bargained, "Just tonight, I'm really tired, I'll bathe in the morning."

"You always say that, but you never do, y'know." You muttered, turning away.

A beat passes, and neither of you say anything.

Finally, you sigh, breaking the silence.

"I'll bathe with you, if that'll convince you." You mumbled, and Hange's face immediately lit up, excited by the offer.

"That works!" They grinned, already unbuttoning their shirt and pulling it over their head.

You raise an eyebrow. "Don't look so excited." You mutter, turning to leave. "I'll go start the water."

You shut the door behind you, heading towards your shared bathroom. Seldom was the bath itself used by anyone but you, so you already had all the soaps and shampoos organized perfectly to your liking. You flicked on the knob, putting your hand under the water until it turned hot and plugging the drain to let the bath fill.

While waiting for the bath to fill, you slowly undid your shirt as well, discarding it, and the rest of your clothing, to a neat pile on the floor, wrapping your bare body in a towel to fight the cold air of the room.

A few loud knocks on the bathroom door brought you out of your thoughts, making you jump.

The perpetrator, Hange, didn't bother waiting for an answer, pushing the door wide open, causing you to flush bright red.

"Hange, close the door!" You whisper-yelled, rushing over to shut the door. Luckily, both of you were wrapped in towels, so if anyone did walk by, they wouldn't see much, but you still wanted complete privacy in that moment.

"Sorry, sorry..." They whispered back, laughing a bit to themselves.

When you had turned around, Hange had already removed their towel, dipping their leg into the bath and swirling it around a bit, testing the temperature.

"Feel okay?" You asked, walking over to them and setting a hand on their shoulder.

"Yeah, it's pretty nice actually..." They sighed, climbing in and resting against the edge of the tub. You joined them silently, discarding the towel and slinking in right after, sitting on the opposite side of the tub.

"You're right... it is really warm." You exhaled, leaning back to take in the feeling of the hot water against your skin. A nice relaxing bath, plus Hange, and it was almost therapeutic. "Still," you muttered, sitting up and causing the water to slosh a bit at the movement. "We don't have forever until it gets cold. Turn around."

They cocked their head to the side, gazing on in confusion until you pulled out a bottle of shampoo, squirting a bit of it into your hands. "Well? Are you gonna come over?"

"Oh, right..." They mumbled, scooting over to turn their back to you with an uncharacteristic awkwardness.

You rub the soap together in your hands briefly, spreading it across both palms before moving your fingers to work their way through Hange's hair, massaging their scalp in the process.

"Oh wow..." They sighed, leaning their back against your stomach fully and closing their eyes in relief.

You raise an eyebrow, continuing the lather the soap through Hange's greasy hair. "What's so 'wow' right now?"

"I've never had anybody wash my hair before... it feels nice..."

"Hange, I would be surprised if you even remember what it feels like to wash your hair in general." You chuckle, causing them to scoff in faux offense and rise a little in the water, turning their head to the side.

"Come on now, don't move so much, you're gonna get the soap in your eyes." You warn, grabbing them gently by the cheeks to face them in the same direction they were facing mere moments ago.

They close their eyes once again, not bothering with a response as your fingers work through their hair with the gentle caring of an angel.

Having finished spreading the soap through their hair, you took a small scoop of water in your hands, pouring it over your lover's head, rinsing the soap from their hair. Teasingly, you take a scoop and dump it directly over their face, causing them to jump, snapping out of their relaxed trance to turn to look at you with bewilderment.

"What was that for??" They questioned, moving the hands up to swipe away the soap that roamed dangerously close to theirs eyes.

"Oh, I don't know," You smirked, leaning back against the porcelain tub with a cheeky expression. "Just felt like it I guess."

"You little...!" They growled, swiping their arms to splash a gush of soapy water in your direction. You jumped out of your spot, desperately wiping the soap from your searing eyes.

"Owww... Hange!" You half-groaned, half-laughed, glancing up at them with a mischievous look. It's on.

You splashed back at them, sending a powerful gush of water in their direction, but they managed to block their face with their arms just in time to send another wave of water back, equally as powerful.

The water fight was passionate, but short lasting. After a few minutes of back and forth, you had realized just how much water had left the tub and soaked the floor around you two.

"Oh my god, Hange, look at this mess." You groaned, leaning over the edge of the tub, annoyed at the prospect of all the future cleaning.

"You started it!" They laughed, draping an arm around your shoulder and yanking you against their chest.

"Oof- Hange!" You groan, wiggling in their arms. It was no use, though, as their strength outmatched yours, locking you in against their chest.

"You're stuck here, whether you like it or not." They giggled, tugging at the back of your head to pull you into their shoulder, hugging you warmly like a beloved stuffed toy.

Now having access to Hange's collarbone, a sinister idea formulated in your mind. Without warning, you bit down on the soft flesh, emitting a surprised yelp from Hange.

They yanked your hair, pulling you away from their collar with an annoyed expression. "You're always scheming something, aren't you?"

You laugh out loud, shooting them a look and shrugging your shoulders. "What can I say? You present too many opportunities."

"Oh yeah? What are you planning right now then?" They tighten their hold on your hair, moving your head in tandem with theirs, only to stop inches away from each other.

You don't answer, instead lurching forward to crash your lips into theirs, and putting your hands on their shoulders to push them back-up against the tub.

As soon as you pull away, opening your eyes and catching your breath, Hange gives you a smirk before shoving you against the opposite end of the bath and leaning over to straddle your thigh.

"No fair," They whine playfully, "I wanna be on top!"

"Hange!" You punch their shoulder jokingly, face heating up at the dirty remark. "Jeez, way to make it awkward..."

"I'm not the nervous one here, you are." They reminded with a smirk.

"Just shut up and kiss me." You exhale, leaning forward to connect your lips once again. They ease into the second kiss immediately, moving against you fluidly, having long gotten used to the feeling of your colliding lips.

Suddenly, they pull away from the kiss, moving to drop their head on your shoulders, a hand slinking down to entwine your fingers in their own.

"I love you... so much..." They mutter into the crook of your neck, causing you to shudder, but run a soft hand through their hair anyway.

"I love you too, Hange." You smile, leaning down to peck them on the top of their head.

They move up from your shoulder, leaning in once again, but this time, they rest their forehead against yours, closing their eyes and taking a long exhale.

"Seriously. I love you so much, you don't get it." They sigh, moving against you to press your bodies even closer together. "You're always taking such good care of me... making sure I'm okay... what did I ever do to deserve someone like you?" They chuckle, but you hear the slight waver in the noise.

"Hange, you're amazing. Don't ever doubt that for a second. I take care of you and stay with you because I love you, you're the most important person in my life. You're really amazing, you know?" You smile warmly at them, wrapping an arm around their neck to tug their parted lips teasingly closer to your own.

"Yeah, of course..." They mutter, their heart beating faster and their mind swarmed with the feelings of love that seemed to exude off of you whenever you were around. "I love you, darling."

"I love you too." You sigh, moving your head to connect your lips once again, chapped lips, yet kissing so softly.

Anyway, goodnight y'all. I need sleep (and grass lmaooo)

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #snk x reader #hange zoe #hanji zoe #zoe hange #zoe hanji #hange x reader #hanji x reader #hange zoe x reader #zoe hange x reader #hanji zoe x reader #zoe hanji x reader

[persnickett]

Fave Fics

Ah all right, I’ve been tagged by @its-tea-time-darling to share fave fics, and the reason why. Five of them in fact, and according to ao3 I have 19 maze runner fics so let’s see if I can pick out 5 as ‘favourites’ - omg the stress of having to *like* something, oy vey.  1. Top Pick: 

Of Brick and of Bone  ( 12k, newtmas, T)

Objectively just feels like some of my best, or most serious, work in tmr fandom and one of the few things I might consider as potential submission for Original Fiction publishing. It takes an unusual POV that hemmed me in, in several ways, while writing it. Which resulted in a tighter, more focused narrative without long character-introspection tangents, and without lightening or distracting a little too much from the emotion with comedy and banter, which are both traps I’m extremely prone to as a writer. I’m very character-driven, and if I think of a joke I almost can’t not include it, and it can lead to all my pieces being the same - ie. all romantic comedy. I think this one just stands out.  2. Fan favourite: 

No Strangers to Love  (2k, thominewt, T) With the exception of my one monster 170k WIP, this one does the best on my stats page, so feels to me like the one readers like best. A bit of surprise as it’s not your standard ever-popular newtmas fic, it’s thominewt, but it’s also your standard soulmates joint, so maybe that’s got a little bit to do with it too. 

3. Most Me:  I Like you a Latte (8k, newtmas, T) Well after complaining that I can’t NOT write comedy, I guess I’d be remiss if I didn’t shoot you some jokes. This one contains the most, though I’m not absolutely convinced it’s my funniest (I’ll admit You, Me and my Oral Fixation is a close second, if not indistinguishable, though admittedly apparently rated M, and is glaring at me from the corner as we speak) maybe it’s just the newest and freshest in my mind lol. My tmr comedy seems to fall into two categories: Thomas flailing at what a disaster he is over how cute Newt is, and Newt internally ranting at how irritating Thomas being this cute is. Interestingly, both those links I chose are the latter.

4. The Standout: 

An Apprenticeship  (20k, newtmas, T)

Not sure if these “favourites” are supposed to be recs per se, and I don’t know that I would say this one is - it’s weird. It’s complex and probably difficult to understand and crafted very specifically for somebody who I hope enjoyed it. But it holds a special place with me because there is a whole background universe and lore for it, floating around in the misty shadows in my head, and it has been the biggest stretch outside my comfort zone in this fandom so far. It challenged me to write (I needed an infographic table to keep track of the plot), I think it might be a challenge to read. I think it’s kinda unique. 5. And last but not least:  The Blood Culmination  (170k+, newtmas & ensemble, E) It’s not finished, but it’s my baby, my grand Opus if you will, my WIP that brought me to fandom and has not let me leave for three years. And it feels like it has a little bit of everything - romance, banter, poetry and adventure (yes even smut). Writing it - and all the discussions and support and thoughts, lessons and discovery it has brought me to, via all the interactions in my comments and with other writers - is going to be a writing experience that I’ll carry with me for life! (Plus it’s really me working out my tmr headcanon and characterization at its most detailed and nerdy and honest, and it’s just plain therapeutic saving Newt. <3) aaaand if you wanna do this I guess i’ll tag @singt0me @astralpenguin @seaselkie @dream0fspring @ambientdinostars @comebacknow @kathsilver and anybody else reading who would like to join in! 

#tag game #favourite fics #five faves

[theresnosinlondon]

Don’t Do It For Me - h.s. (part 3)

The one where Harry is a friend in need and - can they still be called complications? (1.5k)

I don't even know anymore - is this a short story now? A series of one-shots? All I know is that there will be a part 4.

Part 2

So, you thought you could be back in London and not tell me?

Men can be quite simple creatures sometimes, they really can. I had mostly taken a break from my phone whilst I was away. I favoured taking a camera out and about and kept my phone safe and hidden in my bag. I have gotten notifications of reactions or replies to my Instagram stories but ignored all of them in favour of absorbing the benefits of being away from London, the UK and work.

I had stepped foot back in Heathrow only five hours prior to the text - he really did have eyes everywhere. How he did it was beyond me. A man with a schedule that was so tight it almost overlapped. He has expressed before how the busier he was, the more productive he felt which, was all good and well, until the bags under his eyes were so heavy and sunken that he looked one meeting away from dropping.

I could sympathise - the idea of work being an escape from your life-questioning thoughts is quite appealing when you have a career that resembles your dreams as closely as possible. Throwing myself into a project that gives me freedom of creativity, interactions with interesting characters and puts me behind a camera has a therapeutic effect on my mind. The same must happen for him.

As much of a golden boy and all-around loved guy he was, he certainly had his fatal flaws, one of which was his lack of ability in the prioritising area. He absolutely adores his family and friends, but present the fella with an interesting project and he gets tunnel vision and that is all he can think about. He doesn't just hide behind his job - he becomes his job.

I wasn't aware I had to go through passport control with you too, H. Heathrow was a traumatic enough experience for my little brain. But yeah! Back on British soil!

His call came pretty soon after my text was read - one greeting led to a quick “you need to tell me everything about home” and “I’ll grab some food and come over so we can catch up!” and next thing I knew, I was opening my front door and was greeted with a happy, cheesy face. A one-armed hug and a flick to my chin led him to squeeze past me and towards the living room.

He, as a person, baffled me. The way he so effortlessly made himself at home and started unpacking the food, all the while rambling about the restaurant being skimpy with veggies in their dishes, but the spices blend makes up for it - so he just orders extra greens. Such a boring opinion that still made me smile fondly at his drawled nonsense.

“So! How much did you miss me?” his exaggerated smile was flashed at me. “Must’ve been torture being away from me for such a long time.”

“Barely made it through,” I played along. “The scenery did make up for it, though.”

“Upstaged by a gorgeous view,” he tutted with faux disapproval. “Seriously though, when can I see your pictures?”

“And here I was, thinking you were here to catch up with your dearest friend.” I scoffed with a slight roll of my eyes. He glanced my way, pausing with a spring roll mid-air and just raised his eyebrows, giving me a smug look. He brought the roll to his mouth, maintaining eye contact whilst he crunched his way through a bite.

“And here I was, thinking you would jump my bones the second I walked through your door.” His scoff was playful and the quirk of his lips was an easy hint at his joking mood.

All I could do was smile at him - that man, with his rights and wrongs, with his wit, his cheekiness, his looks, his talent, his moments that warrant wide eyes and a question of “what in the actual hell?”, his soft demeanour contrasted with his “climbing the walls” bouts of uncontainable energy, the plethora of conversations we can carry, his face, his hands, his neck. That man right there, I did want to jump his bones.

“So,” I tried to think of how to word the question I was dying to ask. “How’s Jess?”

“Hm,” He rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes, interlocking his fingers on his tummy. “Spoke to her the day you left.”

I stayed silent for a moment, waiting for him to elaborate but, ever the tease he was, he kept the momentum going and smiled slightly. “And?”

“And,” He purposefully prolonged the sound, only to spit out the rest of the sentence quickly. “We talked about taking a break to figure things out.”

I have never been known to have a strong poker face but I could usually mask my emotions and reactions to a certain extent - this time I think he could hear my eyes rolling.

“Well, that’s different, isn’t it?” My sentence was heavily accentuated by sarcasm.

“I know you don’t believe in breaks,” He sounded bored and done with the direction the conversation was taking. “And neither do I.” He chose that moment to lull his head to the side and make eye contact with me.

I pursed my lips to the side, feeling the want to wrap myself around him dwindle with each word said out loud. I should’ve seen it coming - he said he was ready to end a seemingly perfect relationship just after he strayed from his path. The fact that I even believed him was quite an insult to my own intelligence.

“I..” Words seemed to fail me in that exact instant, “don’t even know what to say, if I’m being honest.”

“Not much for you to say when that conversation ended with us breaking up.” His monotonous tone was quite disorienting, giving the weight of the words he spoke.

“Huh?”, was all I could come up with.

He heaved a heavy sigh, shuffling on the couch and sitting up straight. “I told you, I didn’t see it working with Jess anymore - I wasn’t going to mess her around any more than I already did.” His pressed lips and frowned eyebrows gave him a gloom look. “I had known, from the moment I met with her to talk, that it was going to end with us breaking up.”

I just kept staring at his profile, not really knowing if it was my place to comfort him or not. The bottom line was, he was my friend before we slept together, we cared for each other and we comforted each other when needed.

I reached out and tugged him by the arm, causing him to lean towards me sideways, with no resistance whatsoever, and his head to fall to my chest. To my surprise, he was quite malleable in my hands and fell into the embrace as if he was expecting it to happen. One arm around his shoulders and the other hand pushing his hair back, so I could kiss the top of his head - he let me cuddle him and let his weight fall onto me.

“I’m sorry, H,” I mumbled against his hair, “I know it’s a decision that you made, but I also know that it hurts all the same.”

“Mh,” he adjusted and held me around the waist, “it’s never easy to go through a breakup, I feel like shit. But you know what?”

I hummed, letting him speak.

“She took it on the chin and called me out on my bullshit,” his chuckle could be felt on my stomach. “When I used the work excuse, she straight up told me to ‘stop fucking around and just get on with it’.”

“Mh, you do like when a partner can put you in your place.”

“Equally as much as I like to put them in their place.” His comment was accompanied by a quick glance up towards me and a squeeze to my middle.

“Alright,” My fingers buried through his strands and gave a tug at his hair. “Let me be a supportive friend and a great host and make you a cuppa.”

“I don’t need your lousy tea,” he mumbled, snuggling his face in my chest, “do you have any nice wine?”

“So that’s why you wanted to come over! Steal all the wine I brought from home?”

“I mean, kind of.” He shrugged and laughed, refusing to let me go. “Seeing your face is also a plus.”

And that is how we ended up with a glass of fine Italian wine each, nibbling on some Chinese food and the pictures I took on my holiday mirrored to my TV. He ooh’d and aah’d at every peak of greenery and blue skies and bright sun he saw, all the while teasing and making jokes to keep the morale up.

His head on my shoulder and his fingers playing with mine were clearly innocent touches - innocent touches that escalated when he turned his face and buried it in my neck when his fingers left mine and took a hold of my nape, when his mouth travelled to my jaw, my cheek. It only took me a split second to sigh at my stupidity and then turn my face, meeting his lips with mine.

And, I suppose he was right - I did end up jumping his bones.

#short story #hs #harry styles #hes #1dff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles #writing #harrystylesfanfiction #harry styles fic #creative writing #writer #flash fiction #original fiction #writblr #harry styles smut #harry styles ff #harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

hugs + inarizaki

headcanons for the miya twins, ojiro, kita, and suna

a peace offering because i absolutely will not be active for this week and the next uwu ❤️

miya atsumu

Being playful and teasing, Atsumu loves giving you surprise hugs. Whether if it’s behind the back tackles or just picking you up and swinging you around like it’s nothing, nothing gives this man more joy than making you yelp and squeal. 

Hugs with Atsumu are lively and almost never a quiet and boring time. Whenever he comes home from a work-out or practice sweating bullets, he’ll find you and scoop you into his arms all while you’re squealing and protesting. He secretly uses this as an excuse to get you in the bath with him after. 

“You’re getting your sweat all over me-”

“I guess we both have to shower now. Damn, that sucks.”

On the weekends when Atsumu can sleep in, he likes to keep you in bed with him for a painfully long time. He knows you’re awake, and so is he, but nothing makes him happier than clinging onto your middle as you’re squirming to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes when he notices that you’ve had a bad day, his hands will wander to your sides mid-hug, and he’ll tickle you until your giggles fill the room.

He’ll never end the day without a proper cuddle, though. He likes having you in his arms while he’s watching plays or a TV show with you resting your head on his shoulder or chest. Once in a while, he’ll lean down to give you a few kisses on the cheek, but the moment you return the favor, he’s instantly distracted and turns whatever he’s watching off.

miya osamu

He’ll never express it to you directly, but Osamu’s heart flutters every time you hug him from the back while he’s cooking, especially during slow mornings where neither of you are in a rush to go anywhere. Just slip your arms around his waist while he’s scrambling eggs, and you’ve won his entire being over.

He finds it endearing if you don’t let go as he moves around the kitchen, just waddling behind him and trying to follow. Oftentimes, he’ll feel playful about this and tries to move around quickly to see if you can keep up. His soft chuckle gives him away though.

This works in reverse too if you happen to be the one that’s cooking. He’ll  rest his chin on your shoulder to peek at what you’re doing. Humor him by acting confused, so that he’ll reach over and help you. He knows you’re joking, but he’s still more than eager to cook with you, since it’s really the best of two worlds for him.

Unlike his brother, his hugs are very much calm and relaxed. He’s the type to hug just for the sake of hugging and for physical contact rather than teasing you for the most part. When the two of you are in bed together, he likes wrapping his arms around your waist with your back pressed into his chest. There’s something about smelling your hair that’s so calm to him. Plus, it’s easier to whisper into your ear like that.

He knows it’s unhealthy, but Osamu lives for midnight snack sessions with you. There’s something so therapeutic about you feeding him chips in his lap with his arms tightly around your waist. If he he’s having a bad day, this is a sure-fire way to cheer him up.

ojiro aran

Aran’s the type who sees hugs as a type of liberation, but even though he likes giving and receiving them a lot, he’ll always ask for permission first. No matter how long the two of you have been together, he needs the affirmation that you’re comfortable with him touching you before doing anything at all. 

He’s also scared that he might come off as too clingy when he’s hugging you for a while, but if you continue stay in his arms even after his grip has loosened, it makes him feel so warm and appreciative of your affection. 

He’s not the type of person to enjoy messing around given his exasperation whenever either of the Miya twins open their mouths, so cuddling time is soft and peaceful. He’ll ask you about your day always before talking about his own, but he’s not against complete silence either. He likes listening to you breathe, and if you end up falling asleep, he’s over the moon. Seeing that you can become comfortable and relaxed around him to the point of just dozing off is literally his favorite sight.

Despite enjoying peaceful moments, he’s not entirely opposed to banter, especially if you incorporate things you’ve memorized about him into it. For example, if you end up teasing him about how his favorite food is Ritz Crackers, he’s not focused on your teasing but rather the fact that you bothered to remember his favorite food. 

He’s a little bit of a hoarder too, so cuddling sessions are warm and comfy. He has a multitude of blankets and pillows in his home that he should’ve tossed out ages ago, but if you happen to like them, he’ll wash them properly and put them to proper use. He’s comfortable whenever you’re around, but he wants to guarantee that you feel the same way too.

kita shinsuke

Kita is a man of habit and routine; therefore, he’s up at dawn right when the sun rises and back home from work when the sun sets completely. During both these times, he also has a few minutes scheduled in for a ‘good bye’ hug and kiss and a ‘welcome home’ hug and kiss from you. His day doesn’t start until he gets to wrap his arms around you for a brief moment, and his day of work never feels like it has ended until you greet him at the door with your arms open. It’s like clockwork.

He’s always very busy, even during the weekends, but he always keeps a close eye on you to see how you’re holding up. Like Aran, he always asks for permission before hugging you, and during the rare instances where he does have some free time, he likes to indulge a little bit longer in your embrace. 

Kita’s ideal type of date night is cooking a hearty meal with you and then having you sit in his arms outside while enjoying the brisk night air. He likes it when you run your fingers through his hair, but he even likes it more when you let him press soft kisses all over your hand and face. He says he does only does what he has to do, but for you, he’s willing to go the extra miles to keep you happy. He’s very much an overachiever when it comes to your affections and you. 

He’s not really sure why he finds your hugs and hugging you so addictive. Sometimes, under the blazing heat of the sun, he thinks about how it’d be so much better if the two of you were in each other’s arms inside the house even though he’s sweating bullets, and he finds the idea ridiculously amusing. He thinks it might be because of the hugs his grandma gave him as a child and how he always felt safe and content in her arms. He wants to give you the very best, and in his mind, a safe haven where you can smile and relax completely is the best he can offer.

suna rintarou

Like Atsumu, Rintarou’s very much a tease, but he’s sly and more consistent about it. Rather than being energetic about it, Suna’s all about lazy hugs. Whenever it’s late at night, he’ll casually pull you into his arms and bury his head into your neck, and if he isn’t too tired, he’ll breathe the lightest breaths against your ear just to tickle you. 

He enjoys doing the smallest things just to fluster you, so if you feel his hands start to wander very, very slowly, it’s probably him waiting for a reaction from you. He’ll stop and sigh if you don’t give him a reaction, and he’ll probably pout in your arms for a while before thinking of some other way to provoke you.

His signature hug is lazily putting his arms over your shoulders or around your middle with his head resting on the top of your head or on your shoulders. He does this honestly whenever, especially when the two of you are home, and you’re just walking around.

He never expresses it verbally, but this is his way of expressing that he’s feeling a little needy, neglected, or touch-starved. Doing it once or twice briefly is just him trying to make doing laundry a harder time for you, but if he continues to let you drag him around the house, take a quick break to give him kisses. He’ll act as if he never asked for them, but he just likes being spoiled.

That doesn’t mean that he never gives though! He’s a man who empathizes with those who feel exhausted after being annoyed by others, so if you come home all gloomy and depressed, he’ll have you lie down with him either on the couch or on the bed with on arm stroking your head and the other rubbing circles on your back. He’ll proceed to let you vent and will roast whoever gave you a hard time into oblivion. 

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #miya twins #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #ojiro aran #ojiro aran x reader #aran x reader #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu headcanons

[thechanelmuse]

TW: rape

‘I May Destroy You,’ Michaela Coel’s gimlet-eyed exploration of trauma and its myriad ripple effects follows Arabella (Coel) — a funny, messy, sharp-as-hell London writer — after a dizzying night in which she’s drugged and raped by a stranger. At first, she dismisses the hazy memory as just an upsetting image in her head. Soon enough, though, Arabella reluctantly comes to understand it as the truth, and tries to work through that horrifying reality without coming apart. [...]

Not every part of Arabella has a direct line to Coel, but the series’ catalyzing experience, unfortunately, does. In 2016, Coel took a break from a marathon writing session for the second season of “Chewing Gum” to grab a drink with a friend, and was drugged and assaulted by a stranger. She’s been sifting through the emotional wreckage ever since to find some kind of clarity, if not peace. Now, with “I May Destroy You,” she’s doing it for all the world to see. “As a fellow android exploring what it means to be human,” says Coel’s friend Janelle Monáe, “watching Michaela be vulnerable on-screen as she walks in her truth gives me and so many the bravery to walk in ours.” [...]

Coel began writing “I May Destroy You” in February 2017, in between acting in TV projects like the “USS Callister” episode of “Black Mirror” and Netflix’s limited series “Black Earth Rising.” She took solo mountain trips and wrote draft after draft of what would eventually become “I May Destroy You,” spilling her stories and tangled guts onto the page, rearranging them into shapes she could better recognize. In August 2018, she spoke about her trauma publicly while delivering the Edinburgh International Television Festival’s James MacTaggart Memorial Lecture, a prestigious assignment the festival has otherwise bestowed on a cadre of white British television mainstays (as well as no fewer than three Murdochs). 

The majority of Coel’s speech, delivered to a room of the U.K.’s most powerful entertainment brokers, traced the constant racism and classism she endured on the way to that Edinburgh stage — a theme subtextually underlined by the fact that Coel was, and remains, the only Black woman to have that platform. She spoke about turning her solo play “Chewing Gum Dreams” into a “Chewing Gum” TV series (which aired 2015-17 on the U.K.’s Channel 4), a transformative time that taught her the technicalities of making television and confirmed just how disinclined certain white gatekeepers are to trust a poorer Black woman’s vision. Toward the end of the 50-minute lecture, Coel revealed her assault and elucidated the industry’s inability — or unwillingness — to handle such a human emergency when pages are due. As for her recovery, she said, “It’s been therapeutic to write about it, and actively twist a narrative of pain into something with more hope, and even humor.”

When it finally came time to translate it all to the screen, “I May Destroy You” was so close to her bruised heart that Coel took on the challenge of playing several roles throughout the series’ development: creator, writer, actor, producer, director. Netflix offered her a total fee of a cool $1 million to make and star in the show, but the proposed contract wouldn’t grant Coel even a tiny percentage of the rights. She hadn’t fully realized how much claiming legal proprietorship over her work mattered to her until the prospect of not being able to emerged, at which point it became crucial. 

Then, after some Googling, she realized that her CAA agents would also be profiting from the deal via the endangered practice of packaging. Stung and surprised, Coel walked away from both her agents and the offer. “I’m not anti-Netflix,” she’s quick to say now, “but I am pro-‘the creator, writer, director, actor should probably have a right.’” She’s hyper-aware of how much this project required of her, and how comparatively little granting her “a right” might cost a powerful network like Netflix. “That’s not quite fair, is it?” Coel muses. Creating the show, after all, took almost everything she had.

With the BBC, a million-dollar paycheck might not have been in the cards, but more important to Coel, she didn’t have to fight half as hard to claim ownership. (As a matter of industry course, it’s far more common for British studios to afford creators rights to their work than it is for American equivalents.) They struck a deal, and Coel got to work.[...]

“When you’re restricted,” she explains, “sometimes that’s where you find great things: in the lack of possibility.” She attributes this rather Zen approach to Hugo Blick, the “Black Earth Rising” showrunner who showed her the value of keeping a cool, empathetic head on set. Blick’s ability to step away from a gnarly situation for even 30 calming seconds is one that Coel has worked to hone for herself, especially while steering a series with such fraught ties to her history. No matter how sideways things might go, she never wants to forget just how much she loves the collaborative act of building a television show, wild complications and all. 

Read more

From Forbes:

I May Destroy You’s Michaela Coel Rejected Netflix’s $1 Million Offer In Favor Of The BBC Because Of Ownership

The creative, who stars as Arabella and wrote all 12 episodes, started pitching the programme in the spring of 2017 with one of her first ports of call being Netflix who picked up her prior series Chewing Gum.

Though Netflix offered a generous upfront fee of $1 million (£800,000), the sum had strings attached, including full rights ownership away from the creator, something Coel pushed back against. Coel recalls a moment during the interview where she is speaking with a Netflix development executive on the phone, asking if she could retain even a very small 0.5% of the copyright to her show.

“There was just silence on the phone. And she said, ‘It’s not how we do things here. Nobody does that, it’s not a big deal,’” Coel recollected. “I said, ‘If it’s not a big deal, then I’d really like to have 5 % of my rights,’” Coel added, stating that she even went down to 2%, and then 1% and even as a final compromise to 0.5%.

Coel remembers that the executive said she would have to run it passed her superiors, before adding, “‘Michaela? I just want you to know I’m really proud of you. You’re doing the right thing.'”

“I remember thinking, I’ve been going down rabbit holes in my head, like people thinking I’m paranoid, I’m acting sketchy, I’m killing off all my agents,” Coel says. “And then she said those words to me, and I finally realized — I’m not crazy. This is crazy.”

Coel discovered her agents, Creative Artists Agency (CAA) were set to make an undisclosed amount from the series if she took the deal with Netflix. She reveals that the agency pushed her to take the deal prior to her finding out and their subsequent dismissal as her U.S. representation.

Taking the project to British broadcaster the BBC later in 2017, Coel found the corporation to be supportive with her maintaining creative control even with the explicit depictions of sex, sexual assault and drug use. Plus, as the broadcaster had to adhere to terms of trade, Coel had no problem with retaining the rights also. The broadcaster also brought HBO to the table as another co-producer to help subsidise a portion of the budget.

Read more

This isn’t about just “knowing your worth;” it’s about knowing the business (your business) and never settling just to secure “something.” A million dollar offer, no copyright ownership and no creative control is beyond disrespectful. Learn the business in whatever field you’re in and stay acclimated with jargon and new, current and old practices. Know your shit. 

It’s like when people say “Get a lawyer” to handle negotiations and look over your paperwork. You pay a lawyer to do a job, but it does not mean you should be oblivious to aspects of law and contract jargon among other things because “that’s what they’re there to do.” You can’t say someone (sometimes lawyers included) screwed you over after you’ve signed the dotted line. They’re protecting and looking out for themselves. Commit to do the same for yourself.

#michaela coel #i may destroy you #film business #ownership #hbo #bbc #netflix #business

[tamakissimp]

headcanon- galaxy s/o

summary: they have an s/o with galaxy eyes and with the quirk ‘moondust’. Moondust grants its user the ability to create a sleepinducing powder, tasting similar to vanilla sugar.

characters: Bakugo, Shinsou, Sero, and Hawks

request: anon- Bakugo, Shinsou, Sero, and Hawks with a fem!s/o that has galaxy eyes. She has purple-blue eyes with star patterns and constellations in them that changes when she blinks, doesn’t blush red instead her skin gets these star freckles and dust on her face and ears when flustered (if she has dark skin, it makes the stars pop out even more), and if she ever cries, her tears are hella sparkly. If she has a quirk, her quirk allows her to use Moondust which is like a sleeping powder depending on the amount but she likes to use it to help others sleep and relax (she can even make them into tea and powdered sugar for treats)

𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠𝕦

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟛𝟜𝟟

He is a hardcore simp for you. He will stare into your eyes for hours on end.

Never gets enough of the way the colours swirl and change.

Bakugou starts to get into astronomy. He wants to know what stars and constellations are displayed on your skin and eyes.

"That's the small bear. And that's sagitta. And that's-"

"I know what's on my face, Bakugou.".

Ever since he learned that stars pop up on your skin instead of a blush, he made it his mission to make you blush whenever possible.

Bakugou likes to tease everyone. Throwing insults at people, weird nicknames or just screaming at them. He loved to teach you, though, in a sweeter way.

He would randomly come up behind you and whisper things in your ear. Most of the time, just sweet nothings. Other times compliments or words of encouragement. And every time he achieved his goal. Sparkling stars popping up on your cheeks and the galaxies displayed in your eyes seemed to glow brighter.

"Teddy bear," Bakugou says. His hand snakes around you to rest on your waist. His sweet caramelly scent floods through your nose. You smile up at him.

Bakugou's vermillion eyes stare into yours. "Blink for me, baby," he says. You do as he commands. The colours swirling in your eyes change from bright green to dark indigo. Constellations move around your pupil. Bakugou could stare at your eyes forever. Your eyes, plus the stars that glistened on your skin whenever he's around always made his heart swell.

"Again," he says, softer this time. His free hand moves up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes over the constellations on your skin. He remembers them, he always does. Your skin seemed to reflect the stars above, changing along with them.

"You're kinda beautiful, idiot," he whispers. More stars pop up on your cheeks, dusting over your nose and onto your forehead.

"Just kinda? I'm hurt," you say as you put on a fake pout. Bakugou rolls his eyes before removing his hand from your cheek.  

"Okay, Jesus, you're really beautiful," he says. "Happy now?". You nod at him. He groans but you can see through his tough-guy facade.

"You're beautiful too," you say before pressing your lips softly against his. A blush reddens Bakugou's cheeks. His normal response would be to pull away and call you names. Though, he doesn't. He can't. His body moves on its own and melts in your touch.

Bakugou's arms snake around you as your hand travels up to lace through his spikey hair. "So beautiful," you whisper.

𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕦

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟜𝟟𝟠

He is a simp for you but unlike Bakugou, he will admit it. He has no shame in telling you - or others for that matter - how beautiful you are.

The wallpaper on his phone is probably a zoomed-in picture of your eyes. It scares the crap out of you every time you open his phone.

Shinso would have already shown you off to other people, regardless of your quirk. But now, he likes making you blush in front of others. Just so they can see that someone as beautiful as you would want to be with him.

It's a known fact that Shinso is a terrible insomniac, so he definitely uses your moondust.

The only sound in the kitchen is the slow breathing coming from both you and Shinso and the soft bubbling from the milk. You gently turn the stove off and grab a mug. You pour the milk from the little pan into the mug. Wisps of steam float up from mug.

You hold your hand above the mug. The white powder flows out of your palm and into the milk. A soft vanilla aroma circles through the kitchen. You grab the spoon you had grabbed and place it in the mug, swirling the milk around for a bit before handing the steaming beverage to Shinso.

"Thanks," he whispers. His voice is so soft that you could have almost mistaken it for the wind blowing outside the building. You shoot him a soft smile, though he can't see it in the dark. All he sees are the galaxies swirling in your eyes and the stars on your cheeks. Soft speckles of light illuminating your features just enough for him to know one thing: you're beautiful.

Shinso keeps his eyes focused on you as he takes small sips of hot milk. Vanilla coats his tongue in all the right ways. Your quirk immediately takes effect on his body. Warmth rushing through his cells as if someone has just draped a blanket over his body.

Time slows down as Shinso's eyes grow droopy. A lazy smile tugs on his lips. "Sleepy yet?" you ask. He nods before drinking the final sip of his milk. He places the mug onto the counter a little too roughly, as the clanking echoes through the deserted kitchen. "Come on," you whisper.

He nods before walking over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he lets you guide him towards his dorm. Shinso's eyes are fixed on cheeks. Lazily, one of his hands reaches out to touch them. More stars pop up on your skin at his touch.

"Thank you," he says again. You look over at him and smile. His heart warms up at the sight of you.

"It was just milk, 'Toshi," you say. Pride flows through him at the nickname. Shinso shakes his head. He lets go of you momentarily to open his dorm room. He lets you enter first before gently closing the door behind you.

"Not just the milk," he says. Shinso walks over to you and grabs your wrist before dragging you towards the bed. You get the note and climb into it, lifting the covers for him. He slides into the warm bed and snuggles into your side. "Thank you, for loving me.".

You blink a couple of times at him at the words. Quickly though, a smile tugs on your lips. You place a couple of kisses on top of his head. "Thank you for loving me," he whispers a final time before drifting off into sleep.

𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕠

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚𝟝𝟞

Hanta is more mesmerized by your eyes than your cheeks. He can see the stars every night in the sky but he can't see the galaxies that are swirling in your eyes anywhere else.

He'll lay in his hammock with you for hours on end while gazing into each other's eyes.

He'll show you off to the Bakusquad all the time. Dragging you around along with him while goofing off with Kirishima or Denki became a regular thing.

If you're even the tiniest bit insecure about your looks, he'll keep on showering you in compliments until you feel better.

"No way," Sero says. "If I can't use simp than thembo is not a word.". Kirishima shakes his head at his friend while taking his letters of the scrabble board.

"That's kinda transphobic. Not very manly," Kirishima says. Sero immediately perks up.

"Is not!" he exclaims. "Thembo's are totally valid but if I can't use simp than it's not a word. Mi Amore, back me up!". He wraps his arm around your shoulder as he shoots you a hopeful smile.

You look between Hanta and Kirishima. "I mean," you say. "Hanta has a point.". Kirishima puts on a fake pout. While Santa laughs his ass off. "Rules are rules.".

"You're just playing favourites," Kirishima says before laying another word down onto another word, a real one this time. Fuji, the small pieces say.

"That's the best you got?" Bakugou scoffs before placing his letters onto the board. Kaki. Not a super good word but he managed to put it down in a way that he got two triple-word-values.

"God fucking dammit," Hanta says. He looks down to his letters and then up at you. "Let me see those pretty eyes. I need my lucky charm.". Stars start to pop up on your cheeks as you gaze up at him. You blink a couple of times and Santa gets entranced by the swirling colours.

He gets pulled out of it when Bakugou's voice echoes through his room. "Fucking simp," he says. Hanta looks up.

"So now it's a word, huh?" he says before looking back to you again. "Don't worry babe, I'll be a simp for you all day, any day.". He places a kiss onto your cheek before turning back to his game of scrabble again.

𝕙𝕒𝕨𝕜𝕤

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚𝟞𝟛

Hawks have always liked the stars. Midnight flights have a therapeutic effect on him. So when he saw your eyes for the first time, he felt weirdly at peace.

Now, it's become a daily thing. Before he goes to work and right after, he places you in his lap. He encases you both with his wings while he stares into your eyes for hours.

He has trouble falling asleep most night. His mind is always plagued by nightmares, so he often uses your moondust. Either it's placebo or it has a second effect than drowsiness, but he never has nightmares when he uses it.

Just like Shinso, his wallpaper on his phone is a picture of your eyes. When Hawks is on patrol, he'll ask for videos of your eyes.

He loves the stars on your cheeks. He won't call himself a simp, but, he definitely is one for you when he sees the bright stars twinkling on your skin.

"Why are you looking at me?" you ask. You can feel Keigo's eyes burning into your skin, though you keep your eyes focused on the sky above you. A stargazing date on top of a skyscraper, how romantic.

"Because you're pretty," he says. He's leaning his elbow on the gravely ground so he can rest his chin in his palm. You roll over slightly so you can look back at him.

His golden eyes always shine the prettiest underneath the stars. A stary blush dusts itself over your cheeks. "But the stars are up there," you say.  Keigo shakes his head.

"No," he says before pointing at your face. "They're over here.". More stars taint your cheeks. You bring a hand up in an attempt to hide them but Keigo swats it away. "Baby, I want to see them.". His voice is whiney, yet full of love.

You maintain eye contact with him for a couple of minutes. Neither of you says a word. The bustling sounds coming from the city beneath you seems to calm you both down.

"The stars can never compare to you," Keigo suddenly says. He crawls closer to you until you can feel his breath against your cheek. One of his wings stretches out above you, acting as a shield. The crimson feather blocks the moonlight from illuminating your face.

In the darkness, your eyes seem to glow even brighter. One of Keigo's hands comes up to caress your cheeks. His thumb brushes over the twinkling stars dusting your skin. "Nothing can compare to you," he breathes out.

#bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha fanfic #bnha #mha #mha x reader #mha imagine #hero academia #hero academia x reader #my hero x reader #my hero imagines #my hero academia #hawks x reader #hawks imagine #keiige x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #keiige takami imagine #bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo imagine #Hitoshi shinso #hitoshi x reader #Hitoshi imagine #shinso x reader #shinso #shinso Hitoshi imagine

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦  ღ  ◦∘  Harrison Osterfield - Quarantine  ∘◦  ღ  ◦∘

A/N - I wrote this during the first lockdown that Britain were in. ow we’re in the third, and almost a year later, I’m uploading this onto my Tumblr from my Wattpad. And yes, before everyone says it, I am fully aware that the Holland’s and Haz were isolating in two different houses and haven’t been living together for months, but this makes it more amusing, and as I say, it was written a while ago. I do not know Harrison, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - cursing, smut, detailed sex, cockwarming, oral, kinky names, mentions of sleeping around... you know the drill by now.

Summary - Quarantine with a bunch of sex deprived twenty-odd year old boys isn’t your idea of fun, especially not when the only one you want refuses to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Taking measures into your own hands is only simple until you get caught.

YOU AREN’T SURE HOW, but in some strange twist of fate, you’ve ended up in self isolation with the Holland’s. But it doesn’t end there, no, not just the Holland’s, but Harrison and Tuwaine too.

You have a bed in the attic, the other side of Harrison’s room, but you’re hardly sleeping in it. Seeing as you’re the only girl among an entire collection of (ahem, horny) and barely adult boys, you were most certainly on their beckon call. You didn’t mind being called to Sam, Harry’s, even Tom’s rooms late at night; you simply wished that you'd be asked to sleep with the one you actually wanted. Harrison.

You and he had been friends as long as you could remember, neighbours from age 4 and friends ever since. Even through uni when you studied a double major and you had zero free time, he was still constant in your life. You’d met Tom and the boys, the twins being closer to your age, and gotten on with them all as well. It just so happened that you ended up on a job with Mr Holland, and that’s what brought all of you closer together with you being in their house often to work on this project it also just so happened that you’d been hanging around with them all when lockdown was announced, leaving you to be in trouble if you drove halfway across London to your own home, so they invited you to stay and had any and all necessary items mailed to you by your roommate. You were only trusted to stay with Harrison after your history together and nothing ever having come of you two, though Mrs Holland did not trust the other boys enough with you and therefore did a bed check every night and every morning to make sure you were alone, though it was always a deceitful check on everyone’s behalf. 

You didn’t thank Tom, Sam or Harry post-sex since you’d always have to return to your own cold bed, next to a sleeping Harrison, a sleeping Harrison who wouldn’t dare use you as a booty call like the other three did. It was safe to say that Harrison also had no idea of your truancies since he slept like a light and no one would discuss your actions at the dinner table to save your dignity, and their own necks.

Tonight though, you have other plans. Harrison has some papers to look through and will therefore be sitting at his desk, procrastinating before his computer for hours, only to be left to flick through the contract at an utterly ungodly hour, and he’d proceed to sleep tomorrow, all throughout the day. You were going to help him relax: maybe a massage, a cuddle, a blunt. Or you’d sit on his lap, watch to see whether he’d tense or relax beneath your bare legs, or whether he’d pick up on whose shirt you were to wear. That was the only tell: you’d steal a shirt from each brother to wear as a mark the next day, but you’d simply claim they were more comfortable than your own tight fitting button downs and crop tops. Harrison hadn’t noticed, not yet though as far as you knew, but each brother wore a slight smirk every day that you wore their shirt.

It hurt that Harrison wouldn’t be able to tell with his usual obliviousness, but you’d shower before seeing to him tonight, and wear one of his shirts so that when he got it back it might smell like you, a scent he claimed to enjoy.

As soon as dinner finishes, you leap away from the three boys all vying for your attention.

“I have work to do, and a shower to have. Plus, I’m tired.” You respond to all three on your journey up the stairs, hearing Harrison groan very loudly from the attic, followed by his head hitting the keyboard of his laptop. You smile sadly to yourself, a mix of nervous anticipation and excitement expelling from your body while the water lashes at your skin, soothing any pain or fear you may be feeling. You increase the heat, allowing the steam to fill your pores as you lean your head forwards to keep your hair dry, held in a messy bun.

You imagine his touch all over your bare body, his finger tracing your jaw, but a knock on the door and a yell to hurry up snaps you from your trance, making you turn off the water and wrap a soft towel (that you know to be Harrison’s) around yourself. You scowl at Harry on your way out, in response to which he sticks his tongue out childishly. 

You end up mostly dry after taking a longer than usual walk up the steps to the attic, lingering on each one until the balls of your feet become sore. You peek your head around the door, only to see Harrison in a hoodie and boxers, a grimace on his lips while attacking his keyboard with a ferocity that you’ve scarcely seen. His anger causes you to furrow your brows, silently wishing that you succeed in calming him instead of making him feel worse. 

You slip into a pair of panties and grab your favourite of his shirts off one of the hangers. You pull out your phone under a guise if he spots you, absentmindedly scrolling through your feed while eyeing Harrison. He slows his typing and begins clicking his mouse at the screen slowly, intently reading the reams of white on his laptop. 

It’s time, you tell yourself, standing up from the bed and walking behind him. You place your hands on his shoulders, splaying your fingers and digging your thumbs in. Harrison’s body goes lax, his hands falling from the laptop to the desk, laying his hands flat on the wood. He lets out a groan and rolls his head back, falling right onto the pillow of your chest. You continue to rub his shoulders, enjoying the way he’s slowly relaxing under your therapeutic touch, that is until he swats you away with a small, sad smile. You sigh, having none of it, and crawl your hands down to the hem of his hoodie.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his tone dripping with boredom. “I have this contract to read, you know I do.”

“Exactly.” You reply after thinking for a moment. You want to say the right thing, you want this to go seamlessly, so every word has to be perfect, not to mention every action.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t battle against your bid to remove his hoodie, and obligingly lifts his arms up over his head so that you can pull his jumper off. You toss it to the side and hear something fall to the floor, but that’s somehow the least of your concerns. You reward Harrison with a kiss to the soft, unblemished skin of his neck - but it won’t stay that way, not for much longer. 

You thread your fingers into his beautiful brown locks and tug a little, just to let him know that you mean business. His lips part as though intending to let out a groan of some kind, but it doesn’t come, so with disappointment you continue to play with his hair the way you love to. He doesn’t stop you, so that’s something, right?

When he hasn’t given you attention for too long, albeit about five minutes, you walk around in front of him. His eyes are forced to retrain from his screen to where your breasts show in his top. Apparently, going braless in one of his tops has its perks, not talking about your nipples.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs. He pushes his chair out and gestures for you to drape yourself over his legs and lap, which you do more than willingly while wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging at the wonderfully soft curls at the nape.

“I know this isn’t ideal, you need to do proper work and be having contact with your girls, but I’ll get you out soon, I know the boys are a lot.”

You simply hum in acknowledgement, adjusting your seat on his bare legs. Skin on skin, electrifying in every sense of the word. 

“That is why you’re doing this, right?” He asks, nervously almost, and you instantly feel as though you’re molesting him, until he wraps his strong arms around your back. You could moan at the contact, his muscles tensing all around you, the feel of Harrison and his smell radiating around you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

You move your hands to his shoulders and begin to massage again, just from the front this time, a feeble attempt to procrastinate against your goal. Harrison’s gone back to reading his screen, so while he’s still gathering what he’s reading, it’s your only shot.

You twist on his lap until you’re completely straddling him, your forehead pressed to his. The beautiful blue-green of his eyes sends you into a trance, melting your insides. You can swear that you see him nod a little, so you begin to move your hips. You grind and swirl on his lap, undulating your hips in a perfect figure of eight when you feel him harden beneath you.

With your ministrations paused momentarily, you take a sharp intake of breath and say, “This was never about attention because I’ve been stuck with the boys, this is because I want you.”

Harrison’s face instantly melts into an expression of relief, a goofy smile on his (what you hope to be) soft lips.

“I thought you didn’t want me because you were sleeping with the others,” he says, and you shake your head, tears of relief and happiness almost spilling from your eyes. You feel warm and fuzzy despite the guilt, shame and anger bubbling from your truancies with the Holland boys. 

“You knew then?”

“How couldn’t I?” He remarks, “you’re all they talk about when there’s no adults and no Paddy in the room. What they did to you, how many times they made you cry out their names, the marks they tried to leave on you until your own dominant side came out. Every conversation I had to excuse myself out of mainly respect from you, because what they said upset me but I just couldn’t say so, but then I just came up here and imagined what you’d be doing to me.” Your heart hitches in your throat, butterflies filling your stomach and travelling into your every limb, making your skin tingle. Your stomach rises in goosebumps, as does the skin of your thighs, and you notice that it’s because Harrison has his hands underneath your (his) shirt, and he’s skimming over your waist and legs, holding you and savouring the feel of your skin beneath him. He kisses your neck, once, twice, and it’s gone.

He turns back to his computer and continues his work, looking over your shoulder and letting his eyes train every tiny black line of script on his screen. Your neediness is at an all time high, one hand resting absently on your hip, just above your bum while his other hand clicks at his keyboard and mouse like it’s second nature. The speed of his fingers makes you even needier, craving for him to be inside you already, so you climb onto his bare thigh and trap it between your own. 

You dig your hips down into his leg, grinding and aching for friction, and you already know that you’re dripping onto his skin. The fine hair on his thighs gives a delicious amount of friction - not too much but not too little. As you go further, your mouth parts a little more, allowing you to let out a strangled whimper. Your thigh brushes Harrison’s cock through his boxers, and you feel his hand grip your waist tighter, almost painfully.

Your pussy starts throbbing, aching for more of him, while your hands rake his back, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Your head falls to the crook of Harrison’s neck as you approach your high, moving your hips more fervently and letting out moans is anticipation. You wonder if Harrison is even able to pay attention to his contract anymore with what you’re doing to him, but that thought is set to rest when you’re right on the edge, but both of his hands grip your hips and move you off his thigh, the skin glistening with your essence. 

For a minute, you think he’ll be angry, make you clean it up, but instead he just kisses you. His lips catch yours more desperately than you could’ve dreamt, immediately biting down on your lower lip, trapped inside his mouth. You let out the loudest moan you could in the moment, but Harrison finds it heavenly, delving his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss while his hands grip your ass. He pulls away, looking at you with those puppy eyes that he knows you can’t resist. 

“Sit on my cock? Just ‘til I finish this section, then I’ll take you as hard as you want.” 

You look sceptical, and Harrison can tell, you know because he kissed you again and moves his hands from your bum to wrap his arms around your whole body and keep you close to him. His lips pressed against your own is enough convincing, so you move your panties aside and accommodate while Harrison takes his boxers off.

When he does, you’re surprised at how big he is, bigger than any of the lads you’ve been with before. Long and substantial, you want to drool just looking at his dick standing proud against his stomach. Nervously, you slide down on him. His girth stretches your every wall and his tip hits new spots until finally you’re balls deep. He groans and exhales, eyes closed while trying to gather his bearings. 

“Fuck.” He says. “Your cunt bottomed out on my cock, keeping me warm and hard, you’re an angel.”

His words drive you crazy, making you moan and involuntarily clench around him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You wrap yourself around him like a koala bear, craving to have as much skin to skin contact as is possible. Your head lays on his chest to stay out of his way, and he seems thankful to be able to see the screen but also feel you. 

You stay seated on Harrison for no more than ten minutes as he taps away at his keyboard and scrolls through the pages. Occasionally he moves, stimulating you enough for you to gasp or tighten around him, and in those instances he kisses behind your ear. 

You listen to his heart, slowing or increasing its speed depending on your movements. The steady heave of his chest moving with his breathing is strangely calming, making you feel closer to him, more stimulated and comforted, something like love.

Suddenly, his laptop slams shut and he thrusts up into you. You yelp a little and snap your head up, nose nudging with his and your lips grazing. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy, and you’ve done it on purpose. Were you sleeping with the others to get my attention? Am I better than them already? Bigger?” You whimper, his words building a fire inside you. “You don’t have to answer, love, I can already tell by your body.”

You cling to him even tighter than before as he clears everything off his desk, breaking a pencil pot while he’s at it, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You choose a desk to fuck me on when we have two beds up here, both of which will make a lot less noise?” 

He looks downcast and releases a giggle. “Yeah, didn’t think of that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, cupping his jaw and caressing his stubbled cheek, “you can fuck me harder on this and let the boys know who I belong to tonight.”

He places you down beneath him on the desk, still hard inside you, but instead of attacking you again in a ferocious kiss, he looks down at you and marvels in your beauty just for a moment, his scrutiny surprisingly doesn’t phase you, it only makes you feel treasured, so as your eyes follow the movements of his rippling muscles, he smiles faintly and kisses you softly. 

“Fuck me Haz,” you whisper, those simple words being all the motivation needed, because he pulls out, leaving you whining at the emptiness of only his twitching tip inside your core, but within seconds he pushes all the way back in. 

He feels heavenly, your eyes rolling back into your head and a surprised moan leaving your lips. He smiles down at you before pulling out and thrusting back inside you, setting a steady pace. Every move feels like paradise, every jolt of his hips swindling shockwaves of pleasure through your craving body, having been desperate for him for a good while.

He feels heavenly inside you, his tip grazing that special spot inside you. “Harrison!” You cry, as quietly as you can. He leans down and pulls the neck of your (his) shirt down so that he can get access to your breast, immediately latching his lips onto your nipple, biting at it viciously while pressing his hands onto your spread thighs. You feel yourself approaching an edge, a timed coil curling inside your stomach as his ministrations continue. 

He’s so much better than the others - not that they weren’t good, they have a basic idea of what to do with you and how to use you, and they’re decently sized, but they can’t make you feel the way Harrison can. 

“I’m close...” you whisper between incoherent murmurs. He’s not too noisy, which may or may not be a blessing paired with the slamming and squeaking of the desk beneath your bodies, it’s mostly just breathy grunts and occasional curses.

“Me too, beautiful.” He dances his forefinger up your thigh and rubs circles around your wetness, allowing you to let go.

The coil within springs open, and you feel your body fall loose, vision blurring with stars in your eyes and core clenching around Harrison - it feels like heaven. Feeling this, he climaxes soon after you and to save from screaming, kisses you in a messy fight of teeth and tongues, half muffling the pornographic moans that would otherwise be bound to spill.

Harrison falls down onto you, chest heaving and breathless, but nonetheless he still places open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“I’ll wait for you to get your breath, shall I?” You tease while running your finger up and down his spine. He chuckles and climbs fully on top of you, cuddling you into his chest. “Well, now I can see why you don’t have a girlfriend yet. Can’t even go for one round without ending up flustered. Lucky that I’ll have you no matter.”

He hums into you, holding you and savouring the silence filled with only your breathing and a few sounds from downstairs, but soon the wood becomes too uncomfortable.

Harrison slips an arm beneath you and carries you across the room to his unmade bed, as opposed to your neatly tucked in one with your entire collection of clothes and makeup on top of the sheets, but his bed is probably comfier since he’s always in it. 

“Round two?”

Your heart rate increases, a burning blush rising to the tips of your ears as well as a shy smile snaking its way across your lips, still swollen from Harrison’s attack, not to mention the swollen parts of your skin where he paid a little more attention, leaving marks and memories for days to come.

“I’d like to see you try.” You tease, keeping your cool resolve despite feeling anxious straddling him, his eyes flitting between your chest, eyes and lips, unsure of what to do or how to use his mouth, a definite rarity for someone like him.

He seems desperate, putting his hands on your hips and thirstily jolting his hips upwards - if you’d been a few inches further down, he would’ve been straight back inside you, and maybe that’s what he was hoping for.

“Any hole’s a goal, isn’t that what Tom says?” 

He loves it when you tease him, that much you’re learnt over the years. Every girl he’s been with you’ve found a way to tease him about it, anything he says, anything he does, and he loves it since it usually ends in a play fight and him surrendering control of the tv remote to you. This time however, it ends in something far different.

He tugs the shirt up further and pulls you roughly so that your calves are either side of his neck, your once again dripping core hovering above his face and awaiting tongue. 

“Only if it’s yours.” He says, his breath sending shockwaves through your body straight from your core.

His tongue deftly finds its way through your folds and inside your tensing cavern, and it feels heavenly. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue laps up all around you, his lips working in tandem while his tongue dances inside you. The moans leaving your mouth are otherworldly noises that you’ve never quite made before, maybe because you’ve never sat on anyone’s face, never mind someone as experienced as Harrison, something that you’re now learning is far from a bad thing. 

“Harrison!” You cry when he delves a little deeper. His eyes remain between your own and the way your boobs bounce inside his shirt while you squirm on top of him. Every noise the pair of you make masks the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to the attic, and muffle the sound of knocking on the door.

Harrison’s mouth continues its assault on your needy heat, your one hand weaving into his hair while the other massages your breast through your shirt, bringing stimulation to your nipple and bringing your climax closer and closer...

“Haz, we get that you hate work but you really don’t have to make so much noise- OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

You freeze, your recently shut eyes shooting open and darting over to the door, ajar with Tom standing just over the threshold, staring right at the two of you with a face of horror and disgust. Harrison however, bites down on your sensitive nub in his state of shock, and your second orgasm washes over you in such a state of unexpected euphoria that you lose all your bearings. 

You cry out Harrison’s name like a prayer, chanting it while he cleans you up, and it’s not for a solid minute after your climax ends that you realise Tom is still in the room with you, rendered speechless, mouth agape and dumbfounded. 

When you clock what’s happening, you grasp Harrison’s duvet and yank it up to cover you both while you climb off Harrison’s face, his lips still glistening with your cum. He seems lost for words, too, blanching more and more with every passing second. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. No one moves, except for Harrison’s cock twitching under the duvet.

“It’s not what it looks like...” you say, your words getting lost in the thick tension of the room, like a rubber band pulled so tightly that it could snap at any given moment.

“Really? Because it looks like Harrison was just eating you out!”

You can’t fault Tom's logic, it is exactly what it looks like, so you just blush and pull the duvet up to your chin while wishing for a black hole to swallow you up. 

You can’t help but notice how beautiful Harrison looks though, plump lips and that wonderful glint in his eyes, messy hair and no top. 

“Ok, so it’s exactly what it looks like, surprise?” You can’t figure out what to say to him in the current situation, but instantly feel relaxed when Harrison begins to rub his palm up and down your thigh beneath the duvet .

“What- oh, this is why you called?” Sam now makes an appearance, folding his arms and standing next to a resolute Tom. You can’t decipher if he’s angry, amused or something else. “Our plan worked!” He suddenly shouts, and within seconds, Harry arrives beside the pair, a smirk on his lips.

“Really? So shagging Y/N and talking about it in front of me was all a ploy to get us together? And if so, why does Mr Fancy Pants here look so angry?” Harrison asks, and you can feel him willing his boner to wilt while in the presence of the brothers.

“Yes!” Comes paddy’s voice from the doorway, swiftly standing in front of Tom. 

You smirk, but Harrison scowls, unable to accommodate this situation within his mind.

“He’s probably shocked because he walked in on you two... you know. But yeah, it was all a plan, sorry by the way.” Harry says, you just wave it off but Harrison’s grip on your leg tightens.

“Don’t be angry, it worked didn’t it?” Sam chimes in, patting Paddy on the back before making his way out.

Tom has to have the last word, you can see it on the settling lines on his forehead, so you brace yourself closer to Haz. “And don’t I bloody know that it worked!”

Maybe the drama was worth it for the laugh out of Tom’s reaction, though Harrison would argue with you there.

#harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #tom holland #tom holland imagine #haz osterfield smut #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield smut #Simon and mark #Tom and haz #holland boys

[lunaverseimagine]

Escape

Prompt:  I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with from @masterofthedarkness‘ 300 follower writing challenge! Congratulations again Val, I hope you like it <3

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You’re having a bad day and your crush seems to notice

Warnings: Mention of injury (not your own), mention of alcohol

Word count: 2k

A/n: So I had a complete brain flop writing this and forgot that Snape was not, in fact, teaching potions in the Marauders era. However, I’ve written the fic now and don’t have the energy to change it, so consider this an AU of sorts? (Putting in bold bc I keep getting comments about it)

Fic:

It started the moment you woke up. You couldn’t explain why but all you wanted to do was crawl back into bed, wrap the duvet round you, and hide from the world. It was as though your energy had been sucked out of you, leaving a shell that felt too heavy. And yet you were a good student, you couldn’t stand missing lessons, plus you didn’t want anyone worrying about you. Which is why, in spite of your body’s groaning protests, you heaved yourself out of your dorm and down to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

Your friends were talking animatedly around you, occasionally trying to get you to join in the conversation, but all you offered in response were weak smiles and one word replies. As a last resort your best fried Beth tried bringing up your crush, Sirius. The topic normally excited you, but today it was just a reminder that nothing would happen between you, and you became even more withdrawn. Luckily your friends understood - you wanted to be near them but weren’t up to their early morning gossip - so they stayed with you but didn’t try to get you to speak anymore.

As always, halfway through your meal the owls swooped into the hall, bringing newspapers, letters, and the occasional parcel. Mild surprise filled you at the sight of your own family’s owl Lolly settling in front of you. You stroked her head before gently untying the small, crumpled letter attached to her leg, and she nipped your finger affectionately. Your parents didn’t send you letters very often, and you were stumped as to what could be written inside. You took a deep breath. Only one way to find out.

Unfolding the parchment carefully revealed your mum’s scrawled handwriting. Odd. Normally your dad would write the letters; he found it calming to sit with his parchment and special quill after a long day as an auror, pondering his words for a while to make his messages as concise as possible. He said the process was therapeutic. But when you read the words inside it made sense, and you felt your stomach drop.

“Y/n, I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you should know. Dad was injured at work. The healers say it’s treatable but he’ll be in St Mungo’s for a while. Hope school is going ok. Love Mum xx”

Swallowing your tears down, you let the letter fall from your hands and settle on the table. You forced your eyes to look up, away from the words, and you could’ve sworn you caught Sirius watching you from across the hall. As soon as you’d thought it, he’d already turned back to his friends, and you shook your head at yourself. So desperate that you were imagining interactions with your crush. Pathetic. You lay your hand in Lolly’s warm fur, focussing on how soft she felt between your fingers, trying to push the rest of your thoughts to the back of your mind. Breaking down in the middle of the Great Hall was the last thing you wanted to do.

Your lessons did nothing to help your mood. In transfiguration you were supposed to be turning rats into clocks. By the end of the class most students had done it perfectly, but your clock had a tail instead of an hour hand, and instead of ticking it squeaked with every passing second. You felt so deflated, the only thought that kept you going was getting back to your dorm at the end of the day and hiding in your bed. Maybe finding some firewhiskey too to dull the aching you felt when your thoughts drifted to your dad in a hospital bed. In fact, what you really wanted, the one thing that might bring you peace, was to have someone hold you. Not just someone. Sirius. But you knew as well as anyone that he wouldn’t be interested in the likes of you. You couldn’t event transfigure a rat, you’d never be good enough.

You had mixed feelings as you made your way to your last lesson of the day. After this you were free for the evening, but first you had to endure an hour of Snape’s teaching, and his judgement of you. Potions was your worst subject and Snape made a point of noticing every little thing you did wrong. Begrudgingly you approached the dungeons, the echo of your footsteps was all that filled the empty corridors. Most of the time Hogwarts felt familiar, but in times like these it felt cold and unforgiving, emphasising the loneliness that was building in your chest. Wait- why was no one else in the corridors? With a jolt you realised that you’d spent so long lost in your thoughts between lessons that you were late. Your steps sped into a run, and when you finally burst through the door to Snape’s dungeon, he stopped mid sentence to scowl at you. Everyone else turned towards you too, so many pairs of eyes drilling into you. You willed the stone floor to swallow you whole.

“I will not tolerate students showing up late to my class.” You gulped, trying to suppress your heavy-breathing as you awaited your punishment. “I’d have thought you of all people would want to be present for the whole lesson. Then you might finally brew a decent potion. Alas…” he trailed off, a thoughtful expression on his face. You felt your cheeks burn, your head hung low. “Detention. After class you will scrub everyone’s cauldrons clean. No magic allowed.” It was all you could do to nod. You felt so defeated as you stood at the table beside Beth that you almost didn’t notice the small explosion a few tables behind you. You whipped your head around, and- no, you definitely weren’t imagining it this time- Sirius winked at you as Snape stalked between the desks towards the commotion. He glared down at Sirius.

“Looks like Y/L/N won’t be alone in detention.” He sneered, and weaved his way to the front of the class without another word. Your jaw was slack and Beth nudged you with her elbow. 

“He did that on purpose!” She whisper-yelled. Your jaw was slack, not quite sure if you believed her.

“Well- well maybe it was an accident? Or he did it for fun?” Your excuses were weak even to your own ears. But why would he want to be in detention with you?

Seconds stretched into minutes as you willed the time away. Thankfully Beth was good at potions so she did most of the work, telling you which ingredients to chop and when to add them to the cauldron. Snape still found things to fault but you just tuned his voice out, feeling like you were watching the scene through a window instead of being in it yourself.

Eventually the class was dismissed, and Beth gave you a sympathetic smile and mouthed “good luck” as she left the room. When it was just you, Sirius and Snape left, he held a hand out to each of you.

“Wands.” Reluctantly you and Sirius both placed your wands in his hands, not quite meeting his eye as you did so. “I want the equipment spotless.” With that he left the room. Despite feeling as bad as you did, you couldn’t help your heartbeat quickening at the thought of being alone with Sirius.

Avoiding his eye, you crossed the room to the cupboard full of cleaning supplies, dirty cauldrons being the only thing that stood in the way of you and the relative peace of your dorm. You felt his gaze on the back of your head.

“What?” You kept your focus on the cupboard, rummaging through the supplies to find what you needed.

“Are you ok?” After a moment, you turned to face him, throwing a sponge which he caught effortlessly, without breaking eye-contact.

“I’ve been better.” You didn’t elaborate, instead getting to work scrubbing the grime off the cauldron closest to you. Sirius abandoned his sponge, coming to stand on the opposite side of your table, watching your determined face as you tried to get one particularly tough spot of dragon-bogey off the side of the cauldron. He found himself admiring the way you furrowed your brows as you concentrated, the way your tongue poked out slightly from between your lips. Those lips. You, on the other hand, were thinking about how it would take double the time to clean if Sirius didn’t do his half. Subconsciously you squeezed your sponge tighter until your knuckles turned white.

“I bet I could make you feel better.” You huffed. Sure you had feelings for Sirius, but he could still be infuriating.

“I bet you could.”

His eyes twinkled, surprised that you’d joined in with his flirting. “Oh yeah, how’s that?” His hopes were soon shattered as you replied.

“By helping me clean so we can leave this bloody dungeon.” Sirius was taken aback. You never normally snapped at people, and he was just trying to be nice. Godric, he’d got himself a detention just so you wouldn’t be alone.

“You know what? Fine.” He stormed back over to his sponge and started cleaning the cauldron furthest away from you. The two of you scrubbed in silence for a while, making decent progress on the cauldrons, but you felt guilt creeping in at the way you’d treated him. The guilt, the tiredness, the worry about your dad, all of it swirled through your thoughts in a perpetual loop until you couldn’t help it anymore. You let out a small sob, trying your best to be quiet, but in the otherwise silent room Sirius heard it perfectly. He abandoned his cauldron, rushing over to embrace you in a hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back. He had no clue what to say, but the silence didn’t bother you. It gave you a chance to work through your feelings. 

After a while you pulled away, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your robes. “Oh Merlin, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for darling.” He rested his hand on your arm for a moment, waiting to see if you wanted to say anything else. When you just smiled, he returned the smile, before going back to cleaning the cauldrons. This time the silence that filled the room was comfortable, both of you lost in thought. Finally, arms aching, the two of you finished your last cauldrons, and Sirius went to Snape’s office to collect your wands. You sat on the floor outside the classroom waiting for him, picking at a loose thread on your robe. When Sirius returned he handed you your wand, and slid down the wall so he was sitting next to you. You rested your head on his shoulder, whispering into the corridor.

“Thank you.” 

Sirius wrapped an arm round your shoulders. “What for?”

“I know you got that detention on purpose. Just- thank you for being there.”

“Not a problem darling.” His fingers traced tender circles on your shoulder, and you felt yourself melting in to him. Being so close to him you thought you’d be nervous, but instead you felt peaceful. Safe. 

Sirius broke the silence. “What’s going on?” It was almost a whisper, as though he wasn’t sure whether he should’ve asked, but he couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering on your own. He needed you to know that he was there to listen.

“It’s just- it’s a bit of everything, y’know? I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” You laughed at how stupid that sounded, but Sirius took your hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“I’ve got some firewhisky in my room?” It came out as a question.

You turned so you were face-to-face.

“And the cuddles?”

“I’m sure I’ve got some of those to spare too.” He lifted your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on each knuckle in turn. You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation. Then he stood up, helping you off the floor after him, and your hands stayed connected the whole walk back to his common room.

End

A/N: I hope you liked it (regardless of the Snape/Sirius timeline error oopsies)! If you did feel free to give feedback or check out my other stuff, and also give Val (@masterofthedarkness) a follow if you haven’t already! <3

#vals300challenge #sirius black #sirius imagine #sirius #sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius fluff #sirius x y/n #sirius fanfic #sirius oneshot #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #marauders #marauders era #marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #marauders fluff #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fanfic

[softcallofdutyimagines]

What kind of pet(s) do you think the Cold War crew would have and what kind do you think they'd be allergic to? (I'm extremely allergic to cats 😔, but I still love them)

Sure! I feel that though, I'm allergic to hay but I love horses!!! It's ok though I suppose, I just turned into a car girl instead since I never got my pony growing up lmaooo

Anyway, I digress. Enjoy and thanks for the ask!! 💖

Adler

This feels kind of random, but I strongly headcannon that he'd have horses????

There's just something about the idea of Adler doing some of that good old "honest work" back home that feels right

His day job is just so messed up and crazy in general, so it feels good to come home to a completely different life

Besides, horses require a strong but gentle hand to train and care for and I'd say that's right up his alley

Not to mention horses are quite therapeutic, especially when you're out for a ride

He takes rides often, just to truly escape for a little while

Adler is allergic dogs

This works out fine though, considering dogs scare his horses

Bell

Bell definitely owns something exotic

Or maybe more like "exotic" idk haha

Anyway, Bell owns a snake

A big one

Other people are really freaked out, but Bell's snake is actually a sweetie

You will hardly ever find the snake kept in it's habit, as Bell likes to let the big guy explore and slither around

This includes letting the snake crawl on and around Bell

Honestly, I'm not sure there's any super deep connection though

Bell would just be that person to own something that most people would be too scared to even go near lol

Coincidentally, Bell would also be that person to have a weird allergy

They are allergic to anything with fur, so cats, dogs, horses, ect

Hudson

If Hudson were to own any pet at all, it would be something like ULTRA low maintenance

So probably either fish or a lizard, as long as it's not a creepy crawly one lol

If it's fish, he has exactly one goldfish chilling out in a tank in his bedroom

If it's a lizard, it's something big like a komodo dragon

I could see him bonding better with the lizard though

In a strange and perhaps not exactly flattering way, they're more similar then you'd think

Chill, unbothered, tough skin, cold blooded

Also hairless, as Woods and Mason like to remind him

Hudson would ALSO have a weird allergy lmao

He's allergic to birds

Lazar

Oh you KNOW Lazar owns cats

He's basically just a big cat himself, so it makes sense

Have you ever taken a nap in a patch of sunlight?

If not, you totally should bc it's awesome

Usually his cats will sleep on top of him to get their slice of sunlight too

Lazar owns at least one piece of merch that says something along the lines of #1 Cat Dad

He is highly allergic to dogs

It's almost funny, as it just adds more to the theory that he is actually just a cat in human form

Mason

Mason, very specifically, owns a pair of malamutes

They may look scary, and if you threaten their owners/property they can be!!

BUT!! 99% of the time they're just two big floofy boys who love playing and being petted

Alex takes them sledding once in a while, just because otherwise the dogs get antsy for something high energy

Mason is allergic to horses, which sucks for him because he'd love to ride

Park

Much to the annoyance of her neighbors, Helen owns some budgies

They're a bit loud, but she doesn't mind at all

She lets them out fairly often, even though they have a very spacious cage, and they love her lots

While she's at home, she is almost never without a bird on her shoulder

They also know how to do some basic tricks!

It was sort of an accident, as she was just trying to play with them, but it's pretty cool nonetheless

She loves to sing to them too and it's extra special when they twitter along back

Helen is allergic to rabbits

This is an absolute tragedy to her, considering she'd 1000% own at least two if she wasn't

Sims

Sims also owns a dog, but his is far more scrappy looking then Mason's

It's some sort of mutt, maybe a pitt bull mix

But she is the sweetest thing

He rescued her from a junkyard while he was out salvaging supplies for the team and they've been inseparable since

Due to her previous abandonment, she gets depressed quickly when she's alone, so Sims brings her to the bunker often

Despite her rather intimidating appearance, she has a cute name: Dolly

Plus, she's even learned how to fetch certain tools for him, so despite Adler and Hudson's protests, there's really no reason for her to not stay

He is allergic to cats

It's ok though, considering Dolly gets nervous around them

Woods

Frank also has a rescue dog!

Are any of you familiar with the pixie and brutus comic series by pet_foolery on instagram?

Because I could only see Woods owning a dog like brutus lol

A roughed up, retired military dog

He still has plenty of spirit left in him, but that doesn't mean he's all that hyper or anything

Woods loves him because they're just so similar in personality

Also, although he'd never say this... It sort of feels like he and the dog have a connection of sorts, you know?

Like even though they can't really speak to each other, he feels like the dog understands him completely

It's very soothing for when he has to unload some baggage he's seen out in the field

Particularly to have the old guy around once Woods himself retires

Frank is also allergic to cats

This doesn't really impact him too much, considering he doesn't have the patience to own one

#black ops cold war #call of duty #frank woods #russell adler #helen park #jason hudson #eleazar azoulay #alex mason #lawrence sims #cold war bell #call of duty headcannons

[sepialunaris]

Theorizing Amelia and One's backstory based on implicit storytelling

Hmmm infinity train possibly not getting a continuation got me thinking more about Amelia and One-One's implicit story throughout the books. Since the train in Book 4 still works on One's "in a literal sense [the passengers] are numbers to him" and "if they dont sort their problems they'll die here" ideal and not post-Tulip "every passenger's wellbeing and progress is important," the state of the train prior to Ryan and Min is a big mystery, and what specifically happens after to Amelia and One One is another mystery.

I saw @suppuration 's post (which unfortunately can't link since, mobile) about how Book 1 of Infinity Train is about One One experiencing and learning to act as a denizen for Tulip, and while he was mindwiped it must have a big impact to how he does his role as the conductor now and before, when he was just one entity.

Long analysis ahead

One = Simon

Book 4 One reminds me of... Simon. Simon "but you are not a person" Laurent. One is colder and more aloof towards passengers, and seeing them as just "numbers," which is similar to Simon's views at nulls and lack of respect of agency. While he got amnesia and his experience with Tulip made One-One realize his inactiveness has also hindered the purpose of the train as well as a sense of guilt on things that were not his fault (Amelia's cars in the train), he does strive to change, but Amelia still remembers and internalizes what she knows One was in the past, hence she still refers to his old name and had to read his instruction card to remind herself of his new ideals.

Moreover, Book 4 shows Stewards being in charge in train maintenance in the past. Reddit AMA said that in the present the Stewards are almost all destroyed in the coup besides the one Amelia outfitted with weaponry and One One used as transport in Book 2. Book 3 saw One One using humans like Amelia for maintenance, which shows that he is more willing to give agency to the passengers rather than lock them up in place while the Stewards do their jobs. So unlike Simon, there is growth.

Amelia = Hazel, but not really

One conforming to rigid power structure and not really considering anyone's agency like Simon and Pre-Hazel Grace makes Amelia seem like Hazel in this metaphor, which is appropriate that she is her 'clone' or imaginary child. And like Amelia entered One's and life resulting in his mysterious split, Hazel entered Simon and Grace's lives to split them (even if One One dont go separate ways like them, and stayed together) after she experience a personal loss that they caused or 'denied to unreverse' (in Amelia's case). Hazel made them both the chance to question, rethink, and restart their ideals but Simon didn't take it, while Amelia at first tried to give constructive feedback to One before executing the coup and also fell into One's problem of not recognizing others' agencies by 1) throwing away One One and possibly removing his memory 2) forcibly taking away the support system for the passengers to navigate their problems like Ryan and Min-Gi thinking its giving them agency to "individuate" and be on their own, when in the case of Ryan and Min it just reiterated their trauma.

Also her contradictory way of thinking is why in the end Amelia's belief of the other passenger's agency ends up being fallible and destroyed as she becomes more violating and just altogether doesn't want passengers to leave their cars. And I'm highkey convinced that the reason the Ghoms exist (but not in Book 4) is that she created them to prevent people from moving around freely, as there is no therapeutic reason for them to exist (that said the hand monster exists, but it is only in 1 car while Ghoms are numerous and everywhere in the wasteland, so this monster may explain One's aloofness to their wellbeing even further). She does have Ghom orb and used it in Atticus, so its really reasonable to think so. Plus it would be a logical thing that would add up to her numbers a lot and make Samantha the Cat dread her, yet still not make her numbers reach the top like Simon after directly trying to murder his friend.

Amelia's Loss

Though we're not sure because of how little screentime we have of them in Book 4, I do think Ryan and Min-Gi's attempt of staying together is a big foil too for Amelia's experience of abandonment, loss, yearning for the past, and loneliness. Therefore the Steward's first appearance was to reonnect the boys to their past by giving back their stuff, despite Amelia saying that she did that to "individuate" them (this may be directed for all the passengers but in this book's context it is about Min and Ryan's commitment to each other), and the second appearance Amelia specifically says "[they] are on their own." By the lens of Ryan and Min, Amelia is portrayed as a force that desires to separate them, not in a malicious nor personal manner, but maybe a projection of her own trauma of codependency with Alrick and not wanting the same to befall to Ryan and Min (it may also be jealousy but she hasn't shown any displeasure of that sort so it seems more like bad faith analysis) and the pther passengers. And in the end she releases everyone in the train from their 'dependency' by decomissioning the Stewards. Her actions, especially the former does have understandable motives and she isn't intending to harm anyone, but it happens anyway because in the end she disrespects their agency and pulled the whole train from under the rug.

Amelia = Lake & others

And the story of agency is central in Book 2, and how Lake fights for their recognition as a person and getting off from the train, to the point they have to confront One-One about it. It was the first time One One's imperfection is shown and how even now his standards for denizens has gotten better but not the best. Though he does end up respecting their agency and puts thought to it too. And a minor detail is that he mentions Atticus too in Book 2, meaning that he remembers him personally due to his experience as a denizen instead of just an instrument like in Book 4 (eg: Denizens like Kez being frozen kept of the blue during Steward visits), and he appreciates Alan Dracula too. So he did grow, even if its not perfect and his cold tendency and lesser view on denizens is still there. Yet One and Amelia's ideals of hierarchal superiority and the concept that denizens are worth nothing bleeds down to the Apex, who follows Amelia's footsteps after she has decided to refuse her former ideal to "individuate" passengers (as she has already used her outfit when finding Grace and if we think Amelia made the Ghoms then yeah it tracks), as well as Grace and Simon's own coping mechanisms of dealing with traumatic abandonment and loneliness being parallels to Amelia, through manipulating others and intruding on people's agencies respectively.

However, what I find interesting is that, like Lake, Amelia also got to the engine room and got to ask for favors from him. While the context is not clear as well as her lack of companions, if we parallel it to Lake's story and also considering Amelia's fallible interest to humanize the passengers to One, something similar might've happened.

Her story parallels with Ryan too, that wants to subvert expectations within his life even recklessly so at times that ends up hurting people (just like how she took over the train and hurt One and the other passengers), yet he deals with life better even after abandonment by Min. She also parallels heavily with Morgan, who was dependent on Jeremy and tried to isolate herself from her friend, Kez. And the big thing that Amelia lacks in this scenario, unlike Lake and Ryan, is that as said before, the distinct lack of companions she has. No one like Jesse or Min-Gi to ground and provide her company besides her desire for Alrick to come back, and doesn't show interest in forging new relationships and instead focused on her own stuff, just like Morgan grieved when Jeremy was gone. Amelia was both isolated and isolated herself further when she couped the train, and in the end like Morgan she turns from a caring person to someone that revokes agency. Though Morgan, in the end does decide to grieve herself and opens a window for her to reconnect with Kez, unlike Amelia who lost that opportunity and fell further to the dark due to cruel circumstance and her own actions.

And as for the reason why One One was split is mysterious and currently unexplained, Idk if this is an appropriate idea to connect to, but I feel like there's a possibility that he could've split himself or gave himself amnesia, as a way for him to deal with self isolation and or trauma from betrayal. Maybe he was even inspired by seeing Ryan and Min's commitment to each other? But again it is farfetched to judge as something tracks as of now.

Soo... tl;dr what i think happened.

During this era One only interacts with the passengers by maintaining the trains through the Stewards, without consideration of their well being or agency, hence the hand monster/Docent exists

Amelia enters the train and fights her way into the engine room to meet One, possibly asking her stuff back too

One decides to receive input from Amelia, who intends to humanize the passengers to him by giving them back their stuff, while akso taking interest to cultivate independence on the other passengers to avoid codependency like her

Amelia falls back to her dependency and asks One to bring Alrick back, he refuses, and she hijacks the train

As a way to give them freedom, Amelia releases all the passengers the rules the train binds them to and destroys all the Stewards that acted as maintenance before

One is sent to the snow car for 33 years. He is either split or mindwiped by Amelia or he performs this action himself

Amelia's idealism wavers over time and she gets obsessed in find orbs to create Alrick. Becomes more militaristic and creates her Conductor persona, outfitted the last Steward with guns, and created the Ghoms with her cannon

In order to make sure no passengers try any funny stuff and let her focus on her quest, she uses the Ghoms to make sure they are within order, and prefers passengers to no longer leave their cars. She ultimately has no control over that though therefore she can only minimize the problem

Book 1 happens, Amelia is ousted and decides to work under One One as a human steward and to fix her mistakes to repent

Feel free to add on or critique things because I might've missed/misintrepreted a lot

#infinity train #infinity train spoilers #it spoilers #amelia hughes #one one #one one infinity train #infinity train book 4 #hazel infinity train #simon laurent #grace monroe #tulip olsen #lake infinity train #jesse cosay #ryan akagi #min gi park #min-gi park #kez infinity train #atticus infinity train #steward infinity train #alan dracula infinity train #alrick timmens #samantha the cat

[mediocre--writing]

Will sees Billy kind of like a father/ another parental figure (bcoz fuck lonnie). He has Jonathan of course (and Hopper and Steve), but Billy is the one who teaches him how to play basketball, change a tire, throw a punch, etc. a lot of stuff fathers in the 80’s would generally teach their kids

will has a hard time adjusting to changes in his life.

when his father first left, even though he was a piece of shit, it was weird to lose him. he got so used to the occasional affection that he grew to miss that fatherly figure.

jonathan was still a kid, too. he was dealing with their dad leaving as well, and he didn’t need the responsibility of acting like a dad to will.

joyce was amazing, but she’s a helicopter mom. she’s tactical and confident, but in a mom way, and there’s just some things a woman can’t teach her son as well as a man can (the puberty talk was scarring, to say the least)

bob was kind, bob gave will a chance and didn’t look at him any differently, and will thought that maybe, just maybe he could get a father figure out of him, but we all know what happened with that.

then steve came into their small group, but when and dustin had a very close relationship and steve didn’t care to interact with the other kids.

hopper was kind and amazing, but he didn’t have a super close connection with will. he just wasn’t openly warm and fuzzy and they just didn’t connect.

it shouldn’t have been anyone but lonnie’s responsibility to be will’s dad, but he still wanted someone to fill that hole in his heart, left shattered after the first time lonnie called him gay for crying.

and will wasn’t expecting jack shit out of billy. he was loud and obnoxious and crude and selfish and will wanted nothing to do with the californian.

until the day their av club ran late and, as all the boys were picked up, max and will were the only ones left standing on the steps.

billy’s car was sitting in the high school parking lot, among others, who were staying after for basketball practice or other extra curriuculars.

but jonathan’s car wasn’t there and his mom had the late shift and will wasn’t allowed to ride his bike to school anymore, a stern rule from his mom.

max was waiting on the steps of the middle school since billys practice went until 5:00 and there was still a good ten minutes, plus she didn’t want to leave will alone

when billy eventually came strutting out of the school to his car, 10 minutes later than usual, will was still waiting with max.

“do you need a ride? i can force billy to take you home,” max gave a sheepish smile

“do you think he’ll get mad?”

max shrugged her shoulders in a careless manner before starting to walk down the sidewalk to billy

will followed a step behind and overthought this whole situation. he wasn’t all to sure he wanted to be in a car with the guy who almost ran the party over.

but he had to get home somehow.

“billy, will needs a ride home,” max said, as if there was no room for questioning.

“doesn’t your group ride bikes?”

“i got driven to school today,” wills said, almost inaudibly

billy sighed and took a drag of his cigarette before giving max a glare, then getting into his car, meaning max won the argument.

billy was mean but he’s been left at school because of a careless parent one too many times before getting his liscence.

billy asked only twice which way to go, because he’d only ever driven there from the wheelers, not the school (which was in the opposite direction from the wheelers, but just a mile or two farther than the hargrove-mayfield home)

billy flinched at each rock hit the side of his car as he drove down the bumpy dirt road that led to the byers, cursing at the work he would have to do to clean his car later.

will, who was patiently sat in the back, unbuckled before the car fully stopped an max was getting out, leaning the seat foreward, and letting will go into his house.

billy rolled down the window before will walked in, “hey kid!”

will turned to look at billy cautiously, raising his eyebrows in question

“if you ever need another ride home, i’m expecting you to wash my car after!”

will looked at the car, seeing how muddy the wheels and bottom few inches of the car had gotten compared to the pristine condition of the rest of his car

he nodded and billy rolled up his window, waiting until will got inside before driving away.

max snickered from the passenger seat, “you’re such a softie,”

“am not,”

“i doubt will’s ever washed a car in his life,”

“seriously?” billy raised an eyebrow, glancing over to max

she shrugged, “don’t know,”

two or so months later, billy has developed a routine of driving will home every other tuesday, when joyce and jon are too busy to pick him up.

this one particular tuesday, however, max is home sick, so it’s just going to be the two of them

billy doesn’t see it as being so bad. the av club ends about half an hour before basketball practice does, so will and max usually wait by the car, and when billy walks out, will is looking down at one of his tires

as he gets closer, billy sees that his tire was slashed and completely flat by now, he puffed out a breath angrily as he got closer, and will flinched as he heard billy

“i didn’t do it, i swear, billy—“

“yeah, i know you didn’t do it, kid,”

billy takes a moment to push his anger to that little dark spot in his mind before unlocking his trunk, where he kept a spare tire and car jack

“what’s that?” will asked, referring to the car jack

“what? you’ve never changed a tire before?”

will shook his head no.

billy instructed him to put his bag in the car, then showed will how to position the car jack, then get the car up, then remove and replace the tire.

will’s eyes lit up as he helped billy out the new tire on, never having had a person show him classic-guy things like this. jon just would have called a service or something.

it didn’t end there, though. will started to really enjoy billys company.

he was rough and tough around the edges but very patient with will and understood that he didn’t have much experience in normal life things.

billy even offered to teach will how to shoot a basketball one day when practice was running behind.

it’s not until winter falls into spring that billy teaches will another fantastic life skill.

will comes trudging to the car with max one day in march, head bowed and hoodie covering his face.

billy and max have a silent conversation of ‘what’s up with will’ and ‘don’t ask’

billy doesn’t see it until he’s driving down the road to will’s house and looks in his rear view mirror. there’s a big, blue/red/purple mark on his cheek.

it takes every ounce of power in billy’s body to not track down and kill an 8th grader. but he’s better than that.

as wills getting out of the car to go to his house, billy gets out too, tells max to stay in the car.

“what happened?”

will sighed in defeat, he knew he couldn’t hide it forever, “troy, he’s a dick in my grade and just, hit me today, its not a big deal,”

will looked so dejected at the recap of his day that billy almost hugged him. almost. he had a reputation to upkeep, you know.

“so did you hit him back?”

“i probably would have hurt my hand more than his face if i tried,”

“you don’t know how to punch?”

“do you really think my mom would have taught me how?”

“good point,” billy nodded, taking a moment of silence to think, “are you doing anything this sunday?”

will’s face scrunched up, but he shook his head no. billy had a wicked grin growing on his face.

“perfect. i’m going to teach you how to hit that piece of shit back. i’ll pick you up sunday at one, sound good?”

before will could get a word in, billy was turned around and walking back to the car.

the saturday meet-up wasn’t as bad as wills thought it was gonna be.

billy had picked him up, one on the dot, and driven them out to the old junkyard, bringing a pillow and his toolbox out with him.

he held a pillow to his chest and looked at will. “hit me,”

“what?”

“you wont hurt me, but i brought the pillow so now you especially can’t hurt me, so do it. hit me!”

will gave a weak punch and billy corrected him from there. moved his thumb so he wouldn’t hurt himself, changed the approach, and showed him how to get more power into his hits.

will was a pro by the end of the hour.

“so what’s the toolbox for?” will asked as they were sitting on the hood of a rusty, old car, taking a break

“ahh, the fun part of the afternoon, you mean,”

will raised an eyebrow and watched as billy pulled out a crowbar from the box, handing it to will

“what am i doing with this?”

“hit the car,” billy looked way too excited for this.

when will didn’t move, billy’s shoulders sagged.

“look, it’s therapeutic and these are all dump cars anyway, just start hittin’ it!”

will did, he hit a junky, old, red car as hard as he could and was elated by the huge dent that was pushed in as a result.

“there you go! do it again!” billy encouraged

will did. he hit the car over and over and over.

billy was right, it was therapeutic. every time he had an angry thought, be it about his dad or his bullies, he hit the car and a string that kept him all tied up snapped.

will didn’t even realize he was slowing down until his muscles stopped moving and he had his arms hanging to his sides, crowbar still grasped tightly in his hand.

“feel good?” billy asked, walking closer and taking the crowbar, putting it in the toolbox and locking it, then picking up it and the pillow.

“feels good,” will nodded

billy motioned for will to start walking to where he’d parked the car, only a bit away, so they could go home.

“thank you,” will said as they were driving down the road, music quieter than billy usually played it and a peaceful silence between the two

“what for?”

“doing this... like, manly stuff, i guess. i never knew how to punch or change a tire or play sports before, and it’s been cool hanging out with you,”

will has his whole body turned towards billy (who was peaking glances at him while keeping his eyes on the road).

“i’m glad i can help you out kid. i used to get pushed around a lot, believe it or not, and i wish someone had helped me out and i didn’t have to go it alone, ya know?”

will nodded, glancing out the window and seeing that they were pulling onto his street.

“i’m glad i get to help you out, kid.” billy reached the end of the driveway and parked the car, “let me know if you ever... need a ride to the arcade or something, ok? never be afraid to ask.”

will thanked him again and pushed the door open, going into his house, listening to the camaro’s engine rev after he’d shut the door.

he hadn’t ever had a stable father figure, and he knew billy was too young to be his dad in any sense, but doing things like this made the gap in his heart grow smaller and smaller every day.

because who needs a dad when you’ve got billy hargrove?

#stranger things #billy hargrove #will and bill(y) #will and billy #mediocre—writing #will byers #harringrove